by L. J. Smith
It had felt good to walk away from them for a while, even though it was heartbreaking and awful and terribly lonely, too. But, since then, Elena had felt a calm settle over her.
She wasn’t happy, exactly—it was like she was covered with bruises, and if she wasn’t careful, pain would flood over her as she remembered what she had done. But she also felt as if she had been holding her breath for weeks and now was able to exhale.
She knew that Stefan would be waiting for her when she was ready to face him again. Wasn’t that what the daisy meant?
She tucked the flower inside her bag and set off down the hal , her heels clicking firmly. Elena was going to go out with her friends, she was going to have fun, and she wasn’t going to think about Stefan, or Damon. Or even the disappearances, or Christopher’s death. Elena sighed under the weight of it al . For days, they had been mourning, and now Elena and her friends needed to embrace life again. They deserved an evening of freedom. They needed to remember what they were fighting for.
“There she is,” Elena heard Bonnie say as she entered the crowded bar. “Elena! Over here!”
Bonnie, Meredith, and a girl Elena didn’t know were sitting at a smal table near the dance floor. They had invited Matt to come out with them, but he’d said he had to study, his face politely closed off, and they knew he wasn’t ready yet and that he needed some time alone.
Meredith, graceful and relaxed, gave Elena a cool smile in greeting and introduced her friend Samantha. Samantha was lean, bright eyed, and alert. She seemed like she had energy to spare, shifting from side to side, chatting without stopping.
Bonnie, too, was clearly on tonight and started talking as soon as Elena reached the table. Bonnie was brave, Elena thought. Christopher’s death had shocked her, and she was as worried about Matt as any of them, but she would stick out her chin and smile and gossip and go on with life just as hard as she could, because they had decided that was what tonight would be about.
“I got you a Coke,” Bonnie said. “They carded me, so I couldn’t get anything else. Guess what?” She paused dramatical y. “I cal ed Zander, and he said he’d definitely try to make it here tonight. I can’t wait for you guys to meet him!” Bonnie was practical y bouncing out of her seat with excitement, red curls flipping everywhere.
“Who’s Zander?” asked Samantha innocently.
Meredith gave Elena a sly glance. “You know, I’m not sure,” she said with mock confusion. “Bonnie, tel us about him.”
“Yes,” Elena added, smirking. “I don’t think you’ve mentioned him at al , have you?”
“Shut up, you guys,” Bonnie said amiably, and, leaning over the table to Samantha, started to extol al of Zander’s virtues to her fresh audience. Elena let her mind wander.
She’d heard it al , night after night in their dorm lately: Zander’s eyes, Zander’s smile, Zander’s bashful charm, Zander’s very hot bod (Bonnie’s words). How Zander and Bonnie studied together in a tucked-away corner of the library and Zander brought Bonnie secret snacks even though it was totally against the library rules. The way they talked on the phone every night, the long velvety pauses when it seemed like Zander was on the verge of whispering something intimate, something no one but Bonnie could know, but then instead he would make a joke that made Bonnie laugh like crazy. There was something so sweet about Bonnie with a crush. Elena real y hoped this guy was worthy of her.
“He hasn’t kissed me yet,” Bonnie added, eyes wide.
“Soon, though. I hope.”
“The very first kiss,” Samantha said, and wiggled her eyebrows. “Maybe tonight?” Bonnie just giggled in response.
That ache was back in Elena’s chest, and she pressed her hand against her sternum. During her first kiss with Stefan, the world had fal en away and there had been just the two of them, lips and souls touching. Everything had seemed so clear then.
She took a deep breath and wil ed away tears. She wasn’t going to remember anything tonight; she was just going to have a good time with her friends.
Having Samantha there, Elena soon realized, was going to be a huge help with that. If it had been just Elena, Meredith, and Bonnie, they would have ended up discussing Christopher’s murder and the disappearances on campus, combing obsessively over the very few things they knew and theorizing about everything they didn’t. But with Samantha there, they had to keep the conversation light.
Somehow Bonnie got off the topic of wonderful Zander and on to palm reading. “Look,” she said to Samantha.
“See the line that crosses down your palm, across the other three lines? That’s a fate line, not everybody has that.”
“What does it mean?” Samantha said, gazing at her own palm with great interest.
“Wel ,” Bonnie said, her brow furrowing, “it changes direction a lot—see here? and here?—which means that your destiny is going to change because of outside forces influencing you.”
“Hmm,” Samantha said. “How about love? Wil I meet somebody amazing tonight?”
“No,” Bonnie said slowly, and her voice changed, taking on a flat, almost metal ic, tone. Elena glanced up quickly to see that Bonnie’s pupils were dilated, her eyes looking away from Samantha’s palm into the distance. “Not tonight.
But there’s someone waiting for you who wil change everything. You’l meet him soon.”
“Bonnie,” Meredith said sharply. “Are you okay?” Bonnie blinked, and her eyes snapped back into focus.
“Of course,” she said, sounding confused. “What do you mean?”
Elena and Meredith exchanged a glance—had Bonnie slipped into a vision? Before they could question her, a whole group of guys was suddenly at their table, laughing, shouting, swearing. Elena frowned up at them.
“Hey, gorgeous,” one said, staring down at Elena.
“Wanna dance?”
Elena started to shake her head, but another of the guys dropped into the seat next to Bonnie and threw his arm around her. “Hey,” he said. “Did you miss me?”
“Zander!” Bonnie exclaimed, her cheeks pink with delight.
So this was Zander, Elena thought, and watched him covertly as his three friends settled at the table, too, introducing themselves cheerful y, seeming to make the maximum amount of noise dragging chairs over and jockeying to sit next to the girls. Zander was cute, sure, she had to admit that. Pale blond hair and a gorgeous smile.
She didn’t real y like the way he was pul ing Bonnie close, turning her head toward him, his hands running restlessly over her shoulders even as he talked over her head to his friends. It seemed real y possessive for a guy who hadn’t even kissed her yet. Elena looked over at Meredith to see if she was thinking the same thing.
Meredith was listening, with an amused smile, to the guy next to her—Marcus, she thought his name was—Zander’s friend with the shaggy brown hair, explaining his weight-lifting routine.
“Shots,” another friend of Zander’s said succinctly, joining them with a tray ful of shot glasses. “Let’s play quarters.”
Bonnie giggled. “They’re not al owed to serve us here.
We’re underage.”
The guy grinned. “S’alright. I paid for them, not you.”
“Wanna dance?” Spencer, the one who had asked Elena a minute before, said again, asking Samantha this time.
“Sure!” she said, and jumped to her feet. The two were quickly lost in the crowd on the dance floor.
“God, I was so drunk last night,” the guy next to Elena, Jared, said, tipping his chair back on two legs and regarding her cheerful y. His friend on his other side gazed at him for a minute, then poured a shot into his lap.
“Hey!” In a moment, they were on their feet and shoving each other, the guy who had poured the drink laughing, Jared red-faced and angry.
“Knock it off, you guys,” Zander said. “I don’t want to get kicked out of here, too.”
Too? Elena raised her eyebrows. This guy and his friends were definitely too wild for innocent little B
onnie.
Elena looked at Meredith again for confirmation, but she was stil lost in jock world, now giving her opinion on the best weight training for martial arts.
Bonnie squealed with laughter and bounced a quarter directly into one of the shot glasses. Al the guys cheered.
“Now what?” she said breathlessly, her eyes bright.
“Now you choose someone to drink it,” the guy who had brought the drinks said.
“Zander, of course,” Bonnie said, and Zander gave her a long, slow smile that even Elena had to admit was devastating and drank, then winked at her as she laughed again.
Bonnie looked … real y happy. Elena couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her laughing like this.
It must have been at least a year ago, before things had gone crazy in Fel ’s Church.
Elena sighed and looked around the table. These guys were rowdy—tussling and shoving at one another—but they were friendly enough. And this was the kind of thing people did at col ege, wasn’t it? If it made Bonnie happy, Elena ought to at least try to get along with them.
Samantha and Spencer came back to the table, both laughing, and Samantha col apsed in her seat. “No more,” she said, raising her hands to fend him off. “I need a water break. You’re a madman, you know that?”
“Wil you come dance with me, then?” Spencer said pleadingly to Elena, widening big brown puppy-dog eyes at her.
“He’l try to pick you up,” Samantha warned. “And dip you. And spin you around. But don’t worry, I’l be back out on that floor in no time.”
“Pretty please?” Spencer said, making an even more pathetic face.
Bonnie laughed triumphantly as she bounced another quarter into the glass.
Dancing with a group of friends isn’t betraying anyone, Elena thought. Besides, she was single now. Sort of, anyway. She should try to enjoy col ege, to embrace life.
Wasn’t that the whole point of tonight? She shrugged.
“Sure, why not?”
16
When Stefan walked by Elena’s room again, the daisy was gone, and the subtle scent of her citrusy shampoo lingered in the hal way.
No doubt she was out with Meredith and Bonnie, and he could depend upon Meredith to protect her. He wondered if Damon was watching them, if he’d approach Elena. A bitter strand of envy curled in Stefan’s stomach. It was hard being the good one sometimes, the one who would abide by the rules, while Damon did whatever he wanted.
He leaned back against the door to Elena’s room.
There was a window across the hal , and as he watched the cold crescent of the moon sailing high in the sky, he thought of his silent room, of the books of economics and philosophy waiting for him.
No. He wasn’t going back there. He couldn’t be with Elena, but he didn’t have to be alone.
Outside, there was a chil in the air for the first time since school had started; the sultry heat of a Virginia summer was final y giving way to autumn. Stefan hunched his shoulders and tucked his hands into his jeans pockets.
Not real y knowing where he was going, Stefan headed off campus. Vague thoughts of hunting in the woods crossed his mind, but he wasn’t hungry, just restless, and he turned away from the trail that led that way. Instead he wandered the streets of the smal town around the col ege.
There wasn’t much to do. There were a few bars hopping with col ege kids and a couple of restaurants, already closed up. Stefan couldn’t imagine wanting to press into a hot and crowded bar right now. He wanted to be around people, maybe, but not too many, not too close, not close enough to sense the thrum of blood beneath their skins. When he was unhappy, like tonight, he could feel something hard and dangerous rising up inside him, and he knew he needed to be careful of the monster he carried within him.
He turned down another block, listening to the soft pad of his own steps against the sidewalk. Near the end of the street, a faint thud of music came from a dilapidated building whose buzzing neon sign read EDDIE’S BILLIARDS.
None of the few cars in the parking lot had a Dalcrest parking sticker. Clearly a townie spot, not a student one.
If Stefan hadn’t had this burning, angry loneliness inside him, he wouldn’t have gone in. He looked like a student—
he was a student—and this didn’t look like a place that welcomed students. But the ugly thing inside him stirred at the thought of maybe having a reason to throw a punch or two.
Inside, it was wel lit but dingy, the air thick and blue with smoke. An old rock song was playing on a jukebox in the corner. Six pool tables sat in the middle of the room, with smal round tables around the sides, and a bar at the far end. Two of the pool tables and a few of the round tables were occupied by locals, who let their eyes drift over him neutral y and then turned away.
At the bar, Stefan saw a familiar back, a sleek dark head. Even though he’d been sure Damon would be fol owing Elena, he wasn’t surprised to see him. Stefan had reined his Power in, concentrating on his own misery, but he’d always been able to sense his brother. If he had thought about it, he would have known Damon was there.
Damon, equal y unsurprised, turned and tipped his glass to Stefan with a wry little grin. Stefan went over to join him.
“Hel o, little brother,” Damon said softly when Stefan sat down. “Shouldn’t you be holed up somewhere, crying over your loss of the lovely Elena?”
Stefan sighed and slumped on the barstool. Propping his elbows on the bar, he rested his head on his hands.
Suddenly, he was terribly tired. “Let’s not talk about Elena,” he said. “I don’t want to fight with you, Damon.”
“Then don’t.” Patting him lightly on the shoulder, Damon was up and out of his seat. “Let’s play some pool.” One thing about living for hundreds of years, Stefan knew, was that you had time to get real y good at things.
Versions of bil iards had been around as long as he and Damon had, although he liked the modern version best—he liked the smel of the chalk and the squeak of the leather tip on the cue.
Damon’s thoughts seemed to be running on the same track. “Remember when we were kids and we used to play bil iart on the lawns of Father’s palazzo?” he asked as he racked up the bal s.
“Different game, though, back then,” Stefan said. “Go ahead and break.”
He could picture it clearly, the two of them fooling around when the adults were al inside, shoving the bal s across the grass toward their targets with the heavy-headed maces, in a game that was a cross between modern pool and croquet. Back in those days, Damon was wild, prone to fights with stable boys and nights prowling the streets, but not yet as angry as he would be by the time they grew into young men. Back then, he let his adoring, more timid younger brother trail after him and have a share in his adventures.
Elena was right about one thing, he admitted to himself.
He liked hanging out with Damon, being brothers again.
When he’d spotted Damon at the bar just now, he’d felt a little lightening of the loneliness he was carrying around with him. Damon was the only person who remembered him as a child, the only person who remembered him alive.
Maybe they could be friends, without Katherine or Elena between them for a while. Maybe something good could come out of this.
Bil iart, bil iards, or pool, Damon had always liked playing. He was better than Stefan, and, after hundreds of years of practice, Stefan was pretty good.
Which was why Stefan was so surprised when Damon’s break sent bal s spinning merrily al over the table, but none into the pockets.
“What’s up?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at Damon as he chalked his own cue.
I’ve been watching the locals, Damon said silently.
There are a couple of slick hustlers in here. I want to draw them over to us. Hustle them for a change.
Come on, Damon added quickly when Stefan hesitated. It’s not wrong to hustle hustlers. It’s like killing murderers, a public service.
Your moral compass is se
riously skewed, Stefan shot back at him, but he couldn’t keep himself from smiling.
What was the harm, real y? “Two bal in the corner pocket,” he added aloud. He made the shot and sank two more bal s before intentional y scratching and stepping back to let Damon take his turn.
They went on like that, playing pretty wel but not too wel , careful to look like a couple of cocky col ege kids who knew their way around a pool cue but would be no chal enge to a professional hustler. Damon’s pretense of frustration when he missed a shot amused Stefan. Stefan had forgotten, it was fun to be part of Damon’s schemes.
Stefan won by a couple of bal s, and Damon whipped out a wal et ful of money.
“You got me, man,” he said in a slightly drunken voice that didn’t sound quite like his own and held out a twenty.
Stefan blinked at him.
Take it, Damon thought at him. Something about the set of his jaw reminded Stefan again of the way Damon was when they were children, of the way he lied to their father about his misadventures, confident Stefan would back him up. Damon was trusting him without even thinking about it, Stefan realized.
Stefan smiled and slipped it into his back pocket. “Rack
’em up again?” he suggested, and realized he was also pitching his voice a little younger, a little drunker, than he normal y would.
They played another game, and Stefan handed the twenty back. “Another?” he asked.
Damon started to rack the bal s, and then his hands slowed. He flicked a glance up at Stefan and then back down at the bal s. “Listen,” he said, taking a deep breath,
“I’m sorry for what’s happening with Elena. If I—” He hesitated. “I can’t just stop feeling the way I do about her, but I didn’t mean to make things harder for you. Or for her.” Stefan stared at him. Damon never apologized. Was he serious? “I—thank you,” he said.
Damon looked past him and his mouth twitched into his sudden, bril iant smile. Bait taken, he said silently. So much for the heartfelt brother moment.