A few weeks into November, Elena was invited to a gathering by a gentleman whose name she did not remember. He'd handed out invitations stamped on thick card stock like the whole thing was some big event. In reality, it was only a bunch of men in suits in a basement north of campus.

Elena hadn't changed out of her clothes from that day's classes, so she looked bland and a bit under-dressed. Not that she even had a suit. Jeremy owned one nice suit for events their father forced him to attend, and he'd taken it with him.

Elena wasn't much of a social person. Or maybe she was, she didn't have the experience to back it up. She couldn't say she hated parties and alcohol because she'd never tried them back home. An hour before the party started, she was certain she would stay home. But sitting in her cold dorm room reading had started to get lonely, and while her cohort were friendly at times, they weren't really her friends.

For most of the night, she sat in the corner of the room, with her eyes wandering and a glass clutched in her hand. Everyone milled about with drinks in their hands, chatting with one another about local goings-on and horse races and other topics she didn't care about. They definitely weren't interested in dissecting Greek mythology or talking about Dostoevsky.

Once the host pulled a few cigars from a glass case in the back of the room, Elena excused herself amid the headache-inducing smoke.

She was only outside for a minute before the twins spotted her. They had an uncanny ability to find her when she didn't want to be found. John had obviously been drinking, and James was helping him into a carriage when he met Elena's eyes.

"Gilbert!" James said, strolling over to her, leaving his drunk twin behind in the carriage. "What are you doing out here? Didn't take you as the partying type."

That definitely wasn't a compliment, right? Hey Gilbert! Hear you hate parties and people and companionship. Hey Gilbert! I hear you're not a fun person. She shook the thoughts clear from her head. Even if they did think that of her, it didn't matter. She didn't care what they thought. No, she did not.

Or maybe she did because she quickly followed up with, "Quite fond of parties actually. I was just stepping out to get a breath of fresh air."

"Oh, so you're headed back inside?" He asked. When she didn't immediately respond he draped an arm around her shoulders and moved her toward the carriage. "I think you should come to the country house with us instead. We're going to have some drinks and see how long it takes John to make someone cry."

Why did she have a feeling that it would be her who ended up in tears? "Well that sounds fun, but I—"

"But what, Gilbert? It's a Friday night and you're standing outside of a party by yourself. Come with us."

"Why?" She asked simply. It was so hard to wrap her head around what these people thought of her. They invited her, they made fun of her, they didn't speak to her for days, then again, an invitation. It was certainly strange.

"For god's sake, Gilbert. Just come to the house, would you? We don't bite."

"Okay, fine," Elena said.

She was already seated in the carriage across from a drunk John and a placating James when he said, "Don't worry—I told Salvatore to play nice."

Elena was fairly certain Damon wasn't even capable. But if she had to kill him with kindness to make it through the night, she wasn't opposed—just annoyed.

About fifteen minutes into the carriage ride, Elena was beginning to question her decisions. Why had she gotten into a carriage with people she barely knew, to go to the "country," wherever that was? The ride was silent, making Elena all the more anxious about the end destination. She was certain she'd heard tales of young women dying under similar conditions.

By the time they made it to the so-called country, it had been nearly an hour. The area was all rolling hills and fields, houses miles and miles apart. She'd like to see more of it in the daytime. The carriage followed a long, winding path and stopped in front of a brick building with an arch over the front door. Trees kept the house from view and also gave it a sort of haunted feeling like the darkness of the woods could consume anyone at any time.

The inside of the house (mansion) was just as spooky as the forest. Too high ceilings with candles that cast long, moving shadows. Off in the distance, someone played the piano. The place was grand, only made more so by the echoing notes.

James guided her down a hallway that emptied out into a large living area with plenty of plush seating, more candles, and, of course, books everywhere. James and John's apartment paled in comparison to this place. And while there were likely more books in Harmon's library, she was certain it would be easier to find a book on these shelves. She didn't need to ask to know that there was some kind of extensive system in place. She'd have to corner James and ask him about it later.

"Hello Gilbert," Damon greeted her. She'd been too enthralled by the shelving system that she'd dissolved out of reality, barely aware that that grand room she'd walked into contained both Damon and Marcus. Damon stood a few feet to her left, while Marcus lounged on a chaise. The twins settled as well, James dumped John onto one of the couches and went in search of food or booze or something, she hadn't been listening.

"Oh, Hi. Sorry. Really nice book collection they've got here," she said. There were multiple editions of each book in different languages from around the world. They were so beautiful she could scream.

"Thank you. Took a long time to build up," Damon said.

"They're yours?" Elena glanced from him to the books and back again.

"Well, this is my house so—yes."

She nodded, "Oh. The twins just called it 'the country house,' I figured it was theirs."

"They certainly like to invite whoever they want over."

Elena looked at him and their eyes locked for a brief moment.

"Ah, that's not what I meant—"

Was that an attempt to be nice? She wasn't sure what to do with it. Apparently, all she could think of was to continue staring at him like he was some wild creature who somehow made it inside.

"Listen, Gilbert—" he started, but never got to finish, as James returned from the kitchen holding five glasses and a bottle. He unloaded the glasses one by one and then circled around again to fill them. The liquor burned going down, but she drank it anyway. Whatever it was he was going to say clearly didn't matter, as he didn't interrupt when she walked away to grab a seat.

After a few rounds, James and John had begun reciting poetry and, eventually, performing Shakespeare. Marcus was still completely enthralled by whatever book he was reading, and Elena was sprawled out on the couch with her hat pulled a little lower over her eyes, watching the twins and snickering to herself every once and a while.

Though she couldn't see Damon, she could hear him suck in air like he was about to laugh more than a few times. Only once or twice did he actually chuckle. It was a nice sound. Warm, almost. But that was probably just the alcohol speaking.

There were other moments she remembered from that night, Damon playing the piano, the twins pretending to court imaginary beautiful ladies at a fancy ball. They were fun, these people. She found herself laughing, smiling, and conversing with them more than ever.

By the time the bottle was empty, Elena saw stars. When she moved her head from side to side, the room swirled around her. John stood up abruptly, and he would have toppled over if James hadn't been there to catch him. James offered a salute to the room and disappeared down the hall without another word, taking his unstable brother with him.

"And then there were three," Marcus said without raising his eyes from his book.

"How can you see straight enough to read?" Elena asked, raising a brow in his direction. "Everything feels like it's spinning, for me."

"We'll teach you to hold your liquor yet, Gilbert," Marcus said with a chuckle.

"Oh good. I long for the day when I can be functional the next morning," she said.

"Okay, well, let's not set our sights too high," he said. Then, he closed his book and set it down on the table next to him. "Bedtime for me as well, I think."

She watched him take the stairs up and disappear down another hallway. How many bedrooms did this place have? Once he was gone from view, it took a second before it clicked. She was alone with Damon Salvatore. The thought created a thick tension in the air. Did she alone feel it?

Neither of them spoke for a long time. Elena watched the stars from outside a nearby window, and Damon didn't stir. A minute passed, and then another. The silence was maddening.

It was never easy to let silence go on for too long. Sometimes it felt like she had to say something. This was one of those cases.

"You play the piano beautifully," she said. As soon as the words came out, she hoped they were low enough that he didn't hear them at all.

Thankfully, Salvatore was gracious enough to ignore them, if he had heard.

"Let's get you to a room, Gilbert. How about that?" He swung his legs off the couch and stood. When she tried to do the same, the room swirled around and she lurched to the side. Damon was there in an instant, his arm snaked around the middle of her back, under her arms.

"I've got you," he said, quiet.

They were closer than they had ever been and Elena's mind was absolutely not focused on her identity at that moment. Instead, all she could think about was the fact that he was holding her. Her skin felt aflame every place their bodies touched. It was hard to tell whether her legs were wobbly because of the liquor or him. In truth, it was a combination of both.

"Is this why you invited me? To get me drunk so I'd tell you all of my secrets? Well, I'm not going to tell you anything," Elena said, slurring a few of her words.

"Oh you have secrets, do you?" he asked, the corner of his lip turning up into a smirk. He led her toward the stairs and supported her as she climbed to the top. "Just down the hall this way."

She laughed nervously. "Nope, nope. No secrets. That would be unimaginable. Nothing interesting to know about me at all. I'm very boring, actually."

"Okay, Gilbert," he said. He turned a doorknob at the end of the hall and they stepped into a room that matched the extravagance of the rest of the house. How could this possibly be a guest room? The four-poster bed was huge, with a dark red canopy and a large window that gave her a beautiful view of the night sky.

He led her to the bed and she fell backwards onto it. She laid on top of the bedding with all of her clothes on and was asleep within a few seconds, not even long enough to hear the door close behind him.

The next morning arrived much too fast. She awoke early to the sound of multiple heavy footsteps in the hallway outside her borrowed room. It was dark, her head throbbed, and she still felt vaguely intoxicated. The steps on the hardwood were loud and echoing. Who could possibly be up and moving around already and at this hour?

She briefly thought about climbing out of bed and investigating the matter, but her hair was a half-unbraided mess and the room still spun around her. So, that wasn't an option.

After quite a few more hours of sleep and another interruption from the sun (was this going to be a pattern?), Elena was up and dressed. Though her head still throbbed, she made her way down the stairs and into the living room, only to find it empty.

There were blankets and pillows strewn across the room, books and empty glassware on the coffee table, and the piano stood open.

The last moments before bed came back to her with a groan. Maybe if she wanted to actually keep her secret, she would need to stop drinking so much.

"Who are you?" a feminine voice asked, suddenly breaking Elena's concentration on her own humiliation.

She whirled around to face a woman who looked to be about her age, maybe a little bit younger. She had pale skin with a warm pink tone and blonde (nearly golden) hair that cascaded over her shoulders.

"Uh, Jeremy. Jeremy Gilbert. Who are you? I didn't know there was anyone else here," Elena replied.

"Caroline. You may know Marcus. He's my older brother."

"Oh, yes, he's in my class. Speaking of, do you know where everyone went?"

"Outside, probably."

Well, that was certainly vague. "Nice to meet you, Caroline. I should probably get out there."

"Definitely," Caroline said while nodding. Elena started to walk toward the back door, but Caroline started again. "Your disguise isn't very good." She said it so casually like she hadn't just unraveled Elena's biggest secret within seconds of meeting her.

Elena stood there, agape.

"I mean, I'm sorry. It's fine." She strode across the room and started adjusting Elena's shirt and smoothing out her jacket. "It's not like anyone is actually going to notice. Marcus mentioned that you were a charming young fellow, so at least you've got him fooled."

Elena was still trying to form words. Her mouth moved, but nothing came out.

"Oh gosh, I've scared you silent! Please, don't worry. I'm not going to tell on you. I like this little scheme you're running actually. But—I do need you to do something for me in return."

"What's that?" Elena asked.

"Keep coming back and telling me all of the juicy details from Harmon. Marcus doesn't tell me anything, and I almost never get to leave this place."

"You live here?"

"Thought I mentioned! Yes, the Salvatore family has rented out the spare rooms of this place for years to family friends, and all kinds of people." Caroline paused for a second. "Well anyways, Jeremy," she said with a wink that was not even close to subtle, "It was nice to meet you. Hope to see you around more, it's always nice to have other women to talk to."

With that, Elena finally made it outside into the bright sunlight. The conversation had been mystical, and maybe it was her hangover but she barely felt like she'd been an active participant in it. Maybe Caroline was just… captivating. Either way, she prayed the girl would keep her secret.