Chapter 15: Bella's POV
He's in my house.
He's talking to my dad, and they're acting like old friends.
It's not what I expected to come home to after school today. Not at all.
I envisioned returning to an empty house, the usual routine of making dinner for myself and Charlie. But today, things were different.
Firstly, Charlie was home. Normally, I'd be close to finishing dinner by the time he arrived.
Secondly, the scent of cooking filled the air. Charlie never cooked. Ever. So why start now?
And finally, Damon. He lounged on our sofa, beer in hand, wearing a lazy smile. My father seemed completely at ease, a rarity for him. He wasn't this relaxed even after Thanksgiving dinner and a slice of pie.
But now, with Damon here, everything felt oddly calm.
I'm frozen in place, staring until my dad notices me.
"Bella," he greets cheerfully, "You're home."
"I guess I am," I reply, still fixated on Damon. Charlie seems to pick up on it because he's quickly on his feet, making introductions.
I don't mention that Damon and I don't need introductions. Neither does he.
"Bella, this is Damon Salvatore. He's on the council with me. He's...helping me with some things," Charlie says, his words skirting around the subject. I nod in understanding.
I'll figure it out later. Preferably when Damon is gone.
"And Damon," Charlie continues, "This is my beautiful daughter, Bella."
"Hello, Bella," Damon's voice is smooth, sending shivers down my spine. I can't decide if I should be scared or drawn to him. "It's so very nice to meet you."
A smile tugs at my lips, and a soft laugh escapes me. Both Damon and Charlie raise an eyebrow at my reaction.
"It's nice to meet you too...Damon."
"Do I smell chicken?" I plop down onto the sofa next to Damon. "I think I smell chicken." Damon shakes his head, obviously amused by me.
"Damon's cooking," Charlie chimes in with a smile. "His family's from Italy. He says he can make a mean chicken parmesan. I thought it would be nice for you to have the day off, Bells."
"You cook?" Damon sounds genuinely surprised. I feel a pang of offense.
"Yes, I cook."
"She's more than a cook," Charlie interjects proudly. "She creates dishes that are pure bliss."
I feel the heat rise in my cheeks at my dad's compliment. Damon looks genuinely interested.
"I guess you'll have to cook for me sometime then," Damon suggests.
"I guess I will."
"Yes, yes," Charlie adds, "You know you're welcome here anytime, Damon." Damon's smile changes, morphing into something akin to arrogant happiness. If that's even a thing. But that's exactly how Damon looks right now.
Arrogantly happy.
"I'll remember that, Charlie."
There's a lull in the conversation, and I catch Damon's eye, silently urging him to speak with me alone.
He doesn't ignore me.
"Sooo..." I break the silence, "What were you guys talking about?"
"Stuff," my dad replies evasively.
I give him a pointed look, silently conveying that the conversation isn't over. Damon seems amused by our interaction.
"Don't you have chicken to cook?" I interject flatly, "Wouldn't want our dinner to burn."
"Bella, that's—"
"It's alright, Chief Swan," Damon interrupts, "She's right. You enjoy the game. Bella can help me in the kitchen."
He's giving us a chance to talk alone.
Maybe he didn't ignore me after all.
"I'd love to," I say, following Damon into the kitchen. By the time I enter, Damon's already at the stove, adding a mysterious spice to the sauce.
"The key is to stir counterclockwise," Damon instructs without looking at me. "It gives the sauce the right amount of..."
"Damon, I don't care about the sauce."
"Then what do you care about, Just-a-Girl?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his tone, as if he already knows the answer. I hate when people do that.
But I tell him anyway.
"What are you doing here, Damon?"
He smiles down at the sauce, leaving me hanging.
