Bella's POV

I stand in front of the door for exactly thirty seconds. Why? Because that's the amount of time before my dad yells at me to hurry up and open the damn door already. He had to threaten Damon to keep me safe.

So I open the door.

And the first thing I say:

"Hello, stranger." I haven't called him that in a while. Besides, it fits the occasion perfectly. Damon—wearing a tux—looked like a stranger. An incredibly handsome, fun, sarcastic, vampire stranger.

"Hello, Just-a-Girl," Damon says back. His eyes roam all over, never stopping in one spot for too long. And it's making my body burn—in a good way.

Edward never made me feel like this.

"There you are, Damon," my dad's voice says. "Before you two leave, I need to talk to you for a second. Privately."

Damon's eyebrows lift.

I shake my head vigorously. No need for Damon to get Charlie's overprotective, fatherly speech.

"I would love to, Chief," Damon says smoothly, "But… we're running behind, and being late to these things… well, our lovely Mayor's wife wouldn't be too happy. So how about we talk after the party?"

Charlie stares at Damon in shock. Hell, I'm staring at Damon in shock. I was not expecting that. Not at all.

"Umm," my father mutters, "ok, I guess I'll see you two later." I think he's still in shock.

There are the usual goodbyes and promises to be safe. One kiss on my father's cheek, and the next thing I know, I'm being shoved out the door and into Damon's car's leather interior.

It smells nice in his car.

Leather, mint, and what could only be described as Damon.

Part man, part… well, I don't know. All I know is that it smelled good.

Damon rushes from my side of the car to his. I know he could be there in a second, but Charlie is still watching, so he has to act human. Something I doubt he likes.

Inside the car, Damon looks at me. He looks at me for a very long time.

"What?" I finally ask.

"I have something else for you," he whispers softly. He looks slightly nervous, running his hands through his hair and biting his bottom lip.

"Damon," I complain because I do not like people buying me things, "The dress and the shoes were enough. You don't have to get me… Holy Shit!"

In front of me sits a necklace. A beautiful, I can't believe it's real, necklace. It's an intricate design of three gold rings woven together to look almost like vines. Around it, placed perfectly, are diamonds. Really big diamonds. The necklace looks old but brand new. Just like everything else Damon seemed to own.

"I got it a long time ago," Damon said softly, "Actually, I stole it a long time ago."

I should care about that little statement. Why don't I?

"Damon, it's beautiful."

"I thought it would go well with the dress." This time his hands are running through my hair, lightly so he doesn't mess up my curls. "Please wear it."

I can't really respond to that.

He's left me breathless yet again.

So I simply shake my head. It tells him: Yes, yes, I would love to wear it.

Lockwood mansion is—big.

Like really big.

With pillars, perfectly manicured trees, a mile-long paved driveway, and what looked like a balcony coming from the second or third floor. I really couldn't tell. This house was that huge.

Who knew Tyler was loaded.

"Mr. Salvatore," a man dressed in a tux said. He bowed slightly and extended his hand out, palm up. Damon put a large envelope in the palm. The man smiled and tucked the envelope away, "And how shall I announce you."

Announce us. This was not a party at all; this was a ball.

"Mr. and Mrs. Salvatore," I hit him, "Fine… Damon and Bella Salvatore," I hit him again.

"Announce us as Damon Salvatore and Isabella Swan." I say to the man. He smiles at us, amusement shining through his eyes.

"Right this way." The man turns towards the door, and Damon and I follow. Arms linked, him smiling, me rolling my eyes at him.

The man, whose name is Alfred, announces us to the large number of people in the ballroom. Yeah, the house actually has one of those. Everyone looks our way, raises their glasses, cheers, and then continues what they were doing before.

Forks never had parties like these.

"BELLA!" I hear a sharp scream. I don't need to turn to know who it is. I would know that fun, high-pitched voice anywhere. Caroline.

"Great, it's Barbie. She can talk us to death," Damon mutters. I hit him in the chest.

"Be nice," I hiss back.

"Bella, I'm so happy you're feeling better," Caroline wraps me in a hug and squeezes tightly. I'm surprised I come out of it alive. "When you weren't at school, I was so worried. I called your cell, but you wouldn't pick up, so I called Charlie and he told me that you had the case of the twenty-four-hour flu. So I knew I had to help any way I could because I had that last year and it was sooo bad…" Caroline kept talking, but I wasn't really listening anymore. I was too busy watching as two people made their way slowly towards Damon and me.

Stefan and Elena.

I tightened my grip on Damon's arm.

"…and I'm just so glad you're feeling better," Caroline finished in a flourish.

"So am I," Elena voices as they approach. I'm still staring at her. My eyes void of any emotion, "When Stefan told me you had the flu, I was so worried." By the way she says flu, I know she knows the truth. Stefan probably told her as soon as Damon and I were gone.

What an ass.

Elena's brown eyes plead with me to let her in. They tell me she understands what I'm going through, that we can relate to each other. That we can be friends.

I don't want to be her friend.

From the corner of my eye, I see Caroline watching the exchange with interest.

"I feel like dancing," I really don't.

"What a coincidence," Damon is staring daggers at Stefan. Again. "So do I. Bella, would you like to dance with me?"

"I would love to, Damon." I really, really don't want to dance. But if dancing will get me away from Elena Gilbert, then I'll take it.

So I let Damon whisk me away. Away from Stefan and Elena, and into a new form of torture—dancing. And to make matters worse, I'm still wearing the damn heels.