Chapter 3
First Meeting
September 9th, 2009 (Wednesday)
When Blair came downstairs for breakfast the next morning, Elena was just walking through the front door. She was still in yesterday's clothes and smelling faintly of hospital antiseptic, with dark circles under her eyes and her hair pulled into a messy ponytail, but she was smiling.
"Hey," Blair greeted her. "How's Bonnie? Care said she's going to pull through."
"Yeah, she's going to be fine." Elena set her bag down on the hallway table, her relieved smile softening the exhaustion on her face. "Though she lost a lot of blood so they had to do a transfusion. They're keeping her under observation for another day. She should be discharged tomorrow."
Blair smiled back. "That's great."
"Are you going to visit her at the hospital?" Elena asked. "I'm sure she'd love to see you."
"Yeah, I'll go with Caroline right after cheer tryouts. "
"Good." Elena hesitated, shifting her weight. "Do you need me to be there? For tryouts, I mean."
You didn't show up once for summer practice, why start now?
Blair swallowed the unkind thought, not wanting to start a fight. "No, don't worry about it. As long as you're there Friday for the first real practice of the season, you're good."
"Okay. Well, I have to get ready for school. See you later?"
"Yeah."
Elena headed upstairs and Blair toward the kitchen. Halfway through pouring her tea, she realized this was the first normal conversation she and Elena had since before their parents died. No barbs, no loaded silences, no passive-aggressiveness, no Elena wearing that concerned, dime-store therapist expression Blair wanted to slap off her face. Elena could be a real pain in the ass—all judgement and smothering worry, with a Mother Teresa complex a mile wide—but she was still her sister. They would return to bickering soon enough, but for now, Blair allowed herself to enjoy the ceasefire.
"Lots of girls signed up for tryouts this year," Caroline said, her blue eyes focused on her reflection. She smeared bright pink lip gloss on her lips, smacked her lips once, gave her glossy blonde hair three decisive strokes of the brush, and slammed the locker shut.
"Good." Blair leaned against her own locker, arms crossed. "Hopefully one or two will be tolerable."
Her gaze drifted—against her better judgment—toward the opposite wall. Tyler stood with one foot propped against it, Vicki Donovan suctioned to his side like an octopus that had mistaken him for a rock.
The instant he caught Blair looking, his mouth curled into that infuriating smirk she used to find attractive. He grabbed Vicki's ass with both hands and kissed her—if you could call it kissing. It looked less like passion and more like he was trying to consume her face. Someone down the hall shouted 'get a room', someone else snickered; neither of them came up for air.
Blair grimaced and turned her back on the spectacle. He couldn't have been more obvious in his attempt to make her jealous if he'd hired a skywriter. She told herself it wasn't working.
She focused back on Caroline, who was still talking. Fuck Tyler. She had more important things to worry about.
Blair arrived early for Tanner's class—not unusual for her, but today she had an agenda.
Yesterday, she'd prepared a short outline for her history project, which she planned to show him. That was the excuse. Her real objective was information on the Salvatore family.
After discovering that Stefan Salvatore was a vampire, curiosity had sunk its teeth into her and wouldn't let go. Everything she knew about the Salvatores amounted to this: they were one of the Founding Families of Mystic Falls. In the 1860s, the head of the family had been Giuseppe Salvatore who had signed his name in the Registry, along with all the other patriarchs. Giuseppe had two sons: Stefan and Damon who, according to Jonathan Gilbert's journals, had been turned into vampires by a woman named Katherine Pierce, who had perished in a fire in 1864.
After that? Nothing. No mention of either brother past 1865. And no explanation for how Stefan could walk in the sun. Vampires burned in the sun, as far as she knew. What was his secret?
She needed the Salvatore journals. She obviously couldn't ask Stefan—not after yesterday. Hence, Mr. Tanner.
"Good morning, Mr. Tanner," Blair said, stepping into the empty classroom. "Do you have a few minutes?"
"For you, always, Blair." He smiled—that eager, slightly too-warm smile he reserved just for her.
Blair smiled back, though she hadn't forgotten the way he'd humiliated Elena the day before. She wondered how she could punish him; perhaps with a Basic Instinct move. She always sat front row; it would be easy enough. She smirked at the mental image of the always-composed, perpetually stern Mr. Tanner getting visibly aroused in the middle of his own lecture. How deliciously humiliating that would be for him.
Then she thought better of it. He'd probably interpret it as an invitation. There was a difference between letting a man look and making him think he could touch.
She approached his desk, his gaze a physical touch on her skin—her legs first, climbing to her hips, her belly, then on her chest and lingering there. He had a real fixation with her breasts.
"I finished a preliminary outline yesterday," she said, stopping at the edge of his desk. "I was hoping you could give me some pointers." She retrieved the printed pages from her bag and leaned forward to hand them over, knowing the angle gave him an excellent view of her cleavage.
Pathetic as it was, watching him practically drool over her was the balm for her bruised ego she needed. Stefan's rejection still stung, and Tyler's little performance in the hallway—not to mention his ongoing campaign to make her feel replaceable—hadn't helped. A man's helpless desire—even this man's—was precisely the ego boost she needed.
"As an initial outline, this is already well thought-out," Tanner said, his eyes reluctantly migrating from her tits to the printed sheets. "Quite detailed."
"Yeah?" Blair walked around the desk to stand beside him, one hand on the back of his chair for support, her body angled toward his so that her boobs were practically in his face. She pointed to a specific passage. "Because I'm not sure about this section here."
"Y-yes, some parts need refinement." He swallowed hard and reached up to adjust his cravat—a self-soothing gesture that seemed to restore a fraction of his composure. "But the specifics can be ironed out once you've gathered more source material. Have you decided what sources you'll be using?" He made a concerted effort to hold eye contact instead of letting his eyes wander back to her chest.
Blair pretended to consider the question. "There are the historical archives, of course. But that's all standard information that you'd find in every textbook. I want to create something more personal. Something with a unique perspective. So I was thinking of using the archives mainly as a general framework."
Tanner nodded. "What about the Founding Families' private journals? I know you possess some of them."
Blair bit her lower lip, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear—the picture of hesitant earnestness. "I've thought about it. The Gilbert journals shouldn't be a problem. Most of them were my father's. Some are at the Lake House, but they're retrievable. Uncle John has a few—he's out of town, but I could explain what they're for.
"For the Fells, there's Logan Fell who used to date my aunt; I've known him since I was little. I could probably talk him into lend me his.
"For the Forbes journals, Liz has them since Bill didn't take them when he left. And the Lockwoods—well, that could be awkward, but Carol adores me. I'm sure she could persuade her husband."
She paused and let her expression fall, just a touch. "The real problem is the Salvatore journals. I don't really know Zach Salvatore. There's Stefan, but I've only known him a few days. I could ask him to put in a word with his uncle, but honestly? I don't think I'll have much luck." Her lips formed a disappointed pout. "I'm afraid I'll have to go without one Founding family's perspective entirely. It's a shame, though."
"Absolutely not!" Tanner looked personally affronted at the idea of an incomplete project. "That won't do. I will speak to Stefan Salvatore myself. Leave it to me."
"Thank you so much, Mr. Tanner," Blair said, her voice sweet enough to rot teeth.
The bell rang and she turned to retrieve her bag from the floor beside his desk, her back to him. She bent at the waist, fully aware that her already-short skirt would ride up further and that, from his seated position, he'd be treated to a very clear view of her ass and the slender black line of her thong.
Not quite the Basic Instinct move, but the strangled sound that escaped his throat was reward enough.
She walked to her seat as students began flooding in, catching Caroline's wave across the room. Elena walked in, then Donovan—making puppy eyes at Elena who ignored him—and finally Stefan.
Blair watched him enter the room without trying to catch his attention. Stefan, for his part, kept his gaze trained forward as though she were part of the wall. He didn't look at her once. She suppressed an eye-roll and instead bent to pull her textbook, notebook, and pen from her bag—a convenient excuse to hide the smirk tugging at her mouth while Tanner remained firmly planted behind his desk, visibly flushed. There, it seemed, he intended to stay for the foreseeable future.
Once every seat was occupied, Tanner cleared his throat and launched into his lecture. Blair tried to pay attention. She really did. But within minutes, she noticed Elena and Stefan exchanging looks and shy smiles, the kind of silent flirtation that wasn't even attempting subtlety.
"Are we boring you, Mr. Salvatore? Ms. Gilbert?" Tanner's voice cut through the room.
Blair's fists clenched under the desk. She knew she shouldn't feel this irritated. She knew it was irrational. But Stefan choosing Elena over her—after Blair had offered herself to him and he'd walked away—stung in a place she didn't want to examine too closely. He'd wanted her, she'd felt it. And yet he'd gone crawling back to Elena like his desire for Blair was something to be ashamed of.
She also knew she should be grateful he'd stopped. She might have easily become vampire food. But her fascination with vampires hadn't decreased at all after yesterday, it only grew.
If she didn't care about hurting Elena—and, honestly, herself—she'd tell her sister every detail of her encounter with Stefan. That would wipe the shy smiles off both their faces. Let him pretend she didn't exist after that.
And Tyler… Ew! How could he still be with Vicki Donovan? She couldn't be that great a fuck, right? (Then again, practice makes perfect, and Vicki had certainly clocked her hours.) And what was worse, people were whispering. The whole town thought Blair Gilbert had been cheated on and dumped for Vicki Donovan. The humiliation of it curdled in her stomach.
At least no one knew about Stefan. How much worse would it be if they did? The girl who was second choice—not once, but twice. Blair Gilbert, who was always the first choice. Always.
She needed a new boyfriend. Or at the very least a convincing fuckboy. Something to fix the narrative before it calcified into her reputation.
The bell rang, and Blair was dismayed to realize she'd missed the entire lecture. She couldn't recall a single word Tanner had said. What the hell was happening to her?
Get a grip, Blair. You cannot let boys, of all things, distract you from what actually matters. Harvard, remember?
She gathered her things and left the classroom without looking at anyone—not even Caroline. She needed a few minutes alone to reset.
Stefan and Elena left Tanner's classroom together. He hadn't gotten to spend nearly enough time with her yet—not as much as he wanted to anyway—and he intended to fix that. He'd stayed in Mystic Falls for Elena Gilbert after all. She was the only reason he was risking exposure, putting himself in danger. For her.
Whatever that thing with Blair had been—that moment of weakness, that lapse in judgment—it was a mistake and it wouldn't be repeated. He had compelled her, wiped it clean, and aside from Damon, who would weaponize the knowledge for his own amusement but never actually reveal it, no one would ever know. That was something, at least.
The problem was that the compulsion hadn't done a damn thing to him. He might have erased Blair's memory of that night, but he couldn't erase his own. It didn't stop the way his body responded to Blair's presence. It didn't erase the feel of her skin under his hands, the way she'd tasted, the sound she'd made when—
Stop.
He fixed his eyes on Elena. Elena, who was kind and gentle and good. Elena, who looked like Katherine but was nothing like her. Elena, who didn't make his blood burn the way Blair did, but who made him feel calm and at peace. Elena, who could quiet the thoughts in his head, who didn't make him lose control and turn into a ravenous monster the way her sister did.
Better to keep his distance from Blair for now. Later, once things with Elena were more established, he could get to know her as Elena's sister and only as that. He couldn't ignore her entirely, after all. If he wanted to remain part of Elena's life, he had to build bridges with the people she loved.
Which was why he asked about Bonnie—even though every mention of the attack was a reminder of Damon's violence.
"They're keeping her overnight to make sure there's no infection," Elena said. "But she should be able to come home tomorrow."
"That's good news."
Elena tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sent him that shy smile he was already beginning to cherish. "Yeah."
"Did she say what kind of animal was that attacked her?"
"She said it was a vampire." Elena laughed nervously, as though embarrassed by her own words.
Stefan went still. "What?"
"Yeah. She woke up last night and muttered 'vampire,' then passed out again." Elena shrugged, but there was more confusion than dismissal in her expression. Was she suspicious?
"That's a little weird, isn't it?" Stefan managed, hoping he sounded merely curious.
"I know, right? She was probably just high on painkillers, though."
"Right. That must be it." He masked his relief with a nod. "Well, send Bonnie my best when you see her."
Elena smiled again, her brown eyes warm. "I will. Thank you, Stefan. I'm sure she'll appreciate it."
Stefan nodded, already calculating how quickly he could get to the hospital. He felt a pang of guilt for what he was about to do; he hated the idea of compelling Bonnie but he had no choice. He couldn't let her walk around telling people a vampire had attacked her.
Stefan sat alone at a wooden table in the school courtyard during lunch period, weighing whether he could slip away unnoticed, when Blair's voice reached him from behind.
"Hey, Stefan. I need to ask you something."
He closed his eyes briefly. In a place this public, he couldn't simply pretend she didn't exist. He turned around. "Now's not a good time, Blair."
And then, despite every resolution he'd made, he looked at her, his gaze traveling up the length of her involuntarily, cataloguing details he had no business noticing.
She wore a green crop top that left her midriff bare, showing the taut lines of her stomach, the flare of her waist, the generous curve of her chest. A short black skirt and heels elongated her already long, sculpted legs. The sunlight caught in her dark hair, giving it an almost burgundy sheen and her skin looked so soft and smooth, it almost glowed. He tried not to focus too much on the blood he could see moving through the veins of her neck but it was difficult because he couldn't just see it, he could smell it, could practically taste its warmth on the air, rich and sweet and heady and utterly distracting.
Yet it wasn't just her curves or her blood that tempted him so. It was her eyes that held him. In full daylight they were so vividly green they looked like emeralds, keenly observant, intelligent and full of life. She was magnetic—an allure that had more to do with the confidence in her bearing than with external beauty alone.
He forced himself out of the trance Blair had unintentionally put him through. It took more effort than it should have.
"It'll only take a minute," Blair said, completely undeterred.
"Listen." Stefan opted for bluntness. Girls like Blair weren't accustomed to rejection; best not to leave room for ambiguity. "I'm flattered by the attention, but I've already told you—I'm not interested. I like Elena."
Blair stared at him for a beat. Then she laughed—a real, full-throated laugh, like he'd just told the funniest joke she'd heard all week; a laugh that turned heads from nearby tables and that made him feel, against all reason, slightly offended.
"Relax, Stefan. I'm not trying to hit on you. Ego, much?" She shook her head, still grinning. "You like Elena. I got the message the first time. I'm not a stalker. I just wanted to ask you something. You see, I'm doing a project on Mystic Falls during the Civil War, and since you're one of the Founding Families, I figured you—or your uncle, at least—might have the Salvatore journals. I'd like to borrow them. And fair warning: even if you say no, Mr. Tanner will probably force the issue, so we might as well skip to the part where you say yes."
Stefan's panic pivoted instantly from one axis to another. The Salvatore journals. His father's journals, the ones that detailed how Giuseppe Salvatore had killed his own sons. If Blair read those, if she connected the dates, the names...
"I'm sorry, Blair, but I don't think my uncle would be comfortable lending them out."
Blair smiled sweetly at him. "I figured you'd say that but I'm still going to try. I'll swing by the Boarding House this afternoon to talk to him myself. I just wanted to give you a heads-up. You know, for courtesy's sake. Bye, Stefan!" She actually waved at him before she turned around and walked away.
"No—Blair, wait—"
She didn't look back. Stefan cursed under his breath. Another problem, piling onto the growing heap. He might have to compel her again—and Tanner too, if the man proved as persistent as Blair expected.
When Blair and Caroline arrived at the hospital, they found Elena already there, settled in the chair beside the bed. Bonnie was awake, sitting propped against a bank of pillows and eating fruit jelly, chatting with an energy that seemed remarkable given the circumstances.
Her complexion was ashen, deep shadows carved beneath her eyes, and a white bandage covered the wound on her neck—stark against her dark skin—but she was alive and lucid; she was going to recover and that was what mattered.
Still, every time Blair looked at that bandage, her stomach turned. This could have been her. She could have been the one bleeding out in the woods—prey for Stefan or for whatever vampire had torn into Bonnie. The thought left her feeling helpless and powerless in a way she despised. She needed to find some kind of protective spell, something that could give her a fighting chance against vampires. She might not have the power of a normal witch, but she wasn't completely defenseless either.
Caroline waved a hand in the air—the one not holding a plastic spoon dripping with red jelly. "So. You and Stefan. Have you done it yet? Have you even kissed?"
Elena shook her head. "No, and no. I met him three days ago, Caroline. It's too soon."
"Too soon for what?" Blair asked. "If you like him, why wait? It's not like you're a virgin. I would've done it already. And if he doesn't want to, he's a eunuch."
Elena rolled her eyes. "I know you would've. But for some of us, sex is a big deal."
Blair's smirk didn't falter. "Hey, careful with the slut-shaming. Sex is a big deal for me too, you know. If I'm not getting orgasms, I'm out the door. Better to find out early, that's what I always say."
They all laughed, even Elena.
Caroline wasn't letting it go though. "Seriously, what's with the blockage? Just jump his bones already! Ok? it's easy! Boy likes girl, girl likes boy, sex!"
"Profound," Elena deadpanned.
"No, Caroline's right," Blair said. "I think you're not desperate to jump his bones because you don't actually know what you're missing. Matt wasn't exactly rocking your world, was he? You can tell me."
Elena blushed to the roots of her hair. "Shut up. It was fine. I enjoyed it. There just wasn't any... spark. But that wasn't his fault. With Stefan, I want to make sure it's right."
Blair held up her hands. "Fine, I won't pressure you. But I still think you don't know what you're missing. Hopefully Stefan will show you. Don't wait too long, though. Stefan might be a nice guy, but even nice guys want sex. Don't give him time to get bored and go look for someone else."
Elena bristled. "Stefan's not like that."
"Every man is like that, Elena. They want sex. All of them—well, unless they're asexual, but that's a different conversation entirely. Even the sweet, brooding ones like Stefan. Trust me. "
Elena huffed but her expression turned thoughtful. A moment later, she sprang out of her chair.
"Where are you going?" Bonnie asked.
"Caroline's right. Blair's right. It is easy. If I sit here long enough, I'll end up talking myself out of it instead of doing what I started the day saying I was going to do."
"So you're going to him now?" Caroline asked, eyes wide.
"Yes."
Blair stood too. "Alright, then I'll drive you. I need to talk to Zach Salvatore about my history project anyway."
Elena hesitated, then nodded. Blair turned to Bonnie. "Get well soon, Bon." Then to Caroline: "See you later, Care."
"Bye!" Caroline waved with her characteristic enthusiasm.
Elena said her goodbyes as well, and then they were in the car, heading toward the Salvatore Boarding House.
Blair parked in the driveway and she and Elena got out of the car, momentarily stunned into silence.
The Salvatore Boarding House was massive, much larger than she had imagined. A red-brick, two-story mansion sprawling across ten thousand square feet, hemmed in on all sides by dense woodland. It looked like something out of a Gothic novel.
Blair had lived in Mystic Falls her entire life and had never set foot on this property. Zach Salvatore was practically a recluse. She must have exchanged two words at most with the man in eighteen years—'good morning' and 'goodbye' the one time she'd bumped into him at the supermarket. That was it.
Elena walked to the front door and knocked, but it swung inward at her touch, already open.
They exchanged a look. Blair shrugged and went in first. Elena followed.
"Stefan? Stefan?" Elena called out. No answer.
The foyer was all dark wood paneling and antique furniture, with a sweeping wooden staircase leading to the upper floor. Beautiful, in a forbidding way.
A crow burst from somewhere inside the house, streaking toward the open door with a violent rustle of black wings. Both Blair and Elena ducked.
Really? Another crow? Blair thought. Why are there so many crows around lately?
They'd turned to follow the bird's path, so when they spun back around, there was a man in front of them, standing in the hallway as though he'd materialized from the shadows. Elena nearly collided with him.
Blair recognized him immediately. The man from last night at the Grill. The one who'd known her name before she'd given it. The one she suspected was Damon Salvatore, Stefan's older brother and a vampire.
"I—I'm sorry for barging in," Elena stammered. "The door was… open." She turned to point at it, as if to prove the fact, but the door was now closed. Neither of them had touched it.
The man didn't seem remotely surprised by any of it—not the door, not their presence.
"You must be Elena," he said, his voice smooth and pleasant with a smile to match. "I'm Damon. Stefan's brother."
Shit.He really is Stefan's brother from 1864. (They look nothing alike though.) Blair's thoughts raced. They were standing in a house with a vampire who had, one, almost certainly attacked Bonnie last night, and, two, was likely responsible for every "animal attack" in Mystic Falls of the last few days.
She wanted to grab Elena and run. But how would she explain it? And even if she could—even if Elena somehow believed her—Damon wouldn't let them leave alive. The safest play was to keep Elena oblivious. And to keep Damon's attention on her and away from her sister.
"He didn't tell me he had a brother," Elena said.
"Well, Stefan's not one to brag." Damon's tone was light, almost playful.
"Actually, he did," Blair cut in, before he could say more. "He said he had a sibling he didn't talk to."
Damon and Elena both turned to look at her.
And Damon looked. Not the way men usually looked at Blair—the widening eyes, the dumb smile, the predictable drop of the gaze to her chest. Damon's look was different. His eyes moved over her face like he was studying her, as though she were a interesting puzzle he'd just discovered and was intent on solving.
"Right," Elena murmured.
"Forgive me, I don't think we've been introduced. Miss...?" Damon said, one eyebrow raised in inquiry. As if he didn't already know exactly who she was.
"Blair Gilbert." She extended her hand with a polite smile, deciding to play along. "And the pleasure is all yours."
Damon smirked and took her hand, his touch cool against her skin. His eyes—startlingly blue and far too knowing—locked with hers. "You're right. Anyone lucky enough to meet you would feel the same way."
"Smooth talker." Blair arched an eyebrow. "You sure you're Stefan's brother?"
"What can I say? I inherited our mother's charm and good looks, and he inherited our father's broodiness."
"Might want to work on the charm a bit more. It's not as effective as you think it is."
A flicker of genuine amusement broke through Damon's polished performance, enough to crinkle the corners of his blue eyes. "I've never had any complaints. And if the charm fails, I can always fall back on my good looks."
"Then I'm afraid you're doomed."
"That sharp tongue of yours must get you into a lot of trouble."
Blair smirked and showed him the tongue in question, running it slowly across her lower lip. "I've never had any complaints. About my tongue or the way I use it."
Damon laughed—a real laugh, surprised out of him. "Oh, I like you." He pointed a finger in her direction like she was a rare find.
Blair was amused too, despite herself. It wasn't often someone could match her beat for beat. He was quick-witted, he was charming, and the face was, admittedly, excellent. She imagined he had no trouble luring prey without bothering with compulsion.
"Sorry to interrupt," Elena said, looking caught between embarrassment and impatience, "but I was hoping to see Stefan?"
Damon's gaze never left Blair's face even as he answers Elena's question. "Stefan is not here at the moment. But, please, come. Let's not just stand in the entrance hall. I'm sure Stefan will be along any second." Then he addressed Blair again. "So, Blair Gilbert, what brings you to the Salvatore boarding house? Curious about old architecture?"
"I'm the chauffeur." She nodded toward Elena. "Though, I have to admit, the house is impressive."
"I'd be happy to give you a private tour sometime." His voice dropped a register, the invitation unmistakable. "Did you know there are seven bedrooms in this house? Some haven't been opened in decades. All still fully furnished, though."
"All with original furniture from the 1900s? Fascinating."
"Down to the wardrobes and bed frames. Unfortunately, the mattresses are long gone. Only Stefan's, Uncle Zach's, and mine still have them."
"Pity. What's the point of a bed without a mattress? Not exactly functional."
"Precisely. So if you were ever to stay the night, you'd have to sleep in my bed."
"Or Stefan's."
"I don't think your sister would approve."
"There's always your uncle's."
"I wouldn't recommend it. His is notoriously old and saggy."
"Can't be older than a century and a half."
"Well, no. But how old you look matters more than how old you really are."
Blair grinned. Okay. This is fun. Who knew homicidal vampires could be so entertaining? Then again, psychopaths could be charming too. Why not vampires?
"Wow. This is your living room?" Elena's voice broke through their exchange, soft with awe, as they entered the parlor. Her eyes were wide, taking in the room—and she was right to be impressed. The room was enormous, nearly the size of the entire second floor of the Gilbert house. Antique furniture, a stone fireplace, and tall windows that flooded the space with light, a dramatic contrast to the dim hallway they'd left behind.
"Living room, parlor, Sotheby's auction," Damon replied. "It's a little kitschy for my taste."
"I disagree," Blair said. "This room has over a century of history in it. The whole building does. It was built in 1904, wasn't it? After the original Salvatore manor burned down."
Damon raised both eyebrows. "Beauty and brains. Lethal combination. Don't tell me you're here to see Stefan too. I didn't know my brother was so popular with girls."
"Wasn't he always?"
"Not really. Late bloomer, you see."
"You know what, that actually makes a weird kind of sense. He's giving former nerd who became suddenly popular because he got attractive during the summer. He's definitely the moody loner type—always walking around with that perpetually furrowed brow. And that hair… so Edward Cullen of him."
"Oh, yes." Damon chuckled. "He spends hours in his room writing in his diary—sorry, journal."
"Does he play the piano too?" Blair asked with a cheeky grin.
"He does." Damon sent her a wink, looking more amused by the second. "But, to be fair, that was our parents. They wanted Stefan and I to learn."
"A tried-and-true tradition for raising proper gentlemen since the 1800's, at least." Blair nodded with exaggerated solemnity. "Anyway—to answer your question—no, I'm not here for Stefan. Though I have an ulterior motive. I was hoping to speak with your uncle—Zach? Is he home?"
"Afraid not. But maybe I can help?"
Blair fluttered her eyelashes, voice dipped in honey. "I'm working on a history project about Mystic Falls during the Civil War. I was hoping to borrow the Salvatore journals from the 1860s. They'd be incredibly useful."
"The Salvatore journals, huh?" He sent her a suspicious glare. "Let me see what I can do." Then he turned his attention back to Elena, effectively dismissing her.
Blair didn't particularly mind. The banter had been fun in a deeply bizarre way, but she was glad it was over. He was strangely—or perhaps not so strangely—unnerving.
She drifted, letting her attention wander through the room while Damon spoke to Elena. She caught the tail end of something and tuned back in. "I see why my brother's so smitten," Damon was saying to Elena. "It's about time. For a while there, I never thought he'd get over the last one. Nearly destroyed him."
"The last one?" Elena's voice trembled.
"Yeah. Katherine, his girlfriend?" At Elena's blank look, Damon feigned surprise. "Oh, you two haven't had the awkward exes conversation yet."
"Nope," Elena answered, trying to sound unbothered and failing spectacularly.
"Oops. Well, I'm sure it'll come up now. " He appeared apologetic but it was clear he was anything but. "Or maybe he didn't want to tell you because he didn't want you to think he was on the rebound. We all know how those relationships end."
Blair watched the exchange with narrowed eyes. He was needling her, trying to undermine Elena's relationship with Stefan. Why? What could he possibly gain from it?
"You say it like every relationship is doomed to end," Elena said, a defensive edge creeping into her voice.
"Well, of course they are, Elena," Blair interjected, unable to help herself. "We're human. Everything in our lives has an expiration date. Why would love be any different? If you want eternal love, maybe you should date a vampire."
Elena scoffed. "Very funny, Blair."
"Yes, very funny, Blair. Everyone knows vampires don't exist. Hello, Stefan."
The words came all in the same breath, so that it took a full second for the last two to register. Blair and Elena turned. Stefan stood in the doorway—he hadn't made a sound entering the room, and Damon's back had been to the entrance the entire time. Damon wasn't trying very hard to hide what he was.
"Elena." Stefan's eyes went to her sister and only her, as though Blair were a piece of furniture. "I didn't know you were coming over." Blair raised her eyes to the ceiling. Could he be any more obvious?
"I know, I should have called, I just—"
"Oh, don't be silly," Damon cut in, visibly savoring the tension like it was vintage wine. "You're welcome any time. Isn't she, Stefan?" He didn't wait for an answer. "You know, I should break out the family photo albums or some home movies. But... I have to warn you. He wasn't always such a looker."
Elena offered a strained smile, the one Blair recognized as her this-is-awkward-but-I-have-to-be-be-polite smile.
"Thank you for stopping by, Elena. It was nice to see you." Stefan stood rigid as a statue, face blank.
Elena looked between the two brothers, clearly uncomfortable "Yeah, I should probably go. It was nice to meet you, Damon."
"Great meeting you too, Elena." Damon lifted her hand and kissed the back of it—an old-fashioned gesture that suited him a little too well.
"Stefan? Stefan?" Elena called out to Stefan, who was blocking her way. Stefan stepped aside to let Elena pass but kept his eyes fixed on Damon. Blair moved to follow—since both brothers seemed intent on pretending she was invisible—but Damon's voice stopped her.
"And Blair..." She turned. "Forgive my brother's rudeness. I'm afraid he still hasn't learned how to behave around women. Especially beautiful ones. You're welcome here any time as well. Isn't she, Stefan?"
Stefan glared at Damon and didn't bother to answer.
Blair grinned. "I'm not sure Stefan would agree. He doesn't seem to like me much. But I appreciate the offer, Damon."
"He doesn't like you?" Damon sounded scandalized at the very thought. Blair almost laughed again. He could be so theatrical. "That's news to me. In fact, I was under the impression he liked you a great deal." The innuendo was unmistakable. He knew. He had to have seen them. "But perhaps I was mistaken."
Blair kept her expression light. "Well, your brother's hard to read. Who knows what he really thinks." She turned toward the door. "Let me know about the journals."
"Will do." Damon caught her hand before she could walk away. But unlike with Elena, he didn't press his lips to the back of it. Instead, his mouth found the inside of her wrist, right over the pulse point. His lips were cool, his breath a whisper against her skin. Blair's breath caught and a shiver raced up her arm and down her spine—whether from fear or desire, she honestly couldn't tell. Perhaps both.
Beneath his mouth, her heart skipped a beat. She knew he heard it—had to have heard it—because his smirk deepened before he released her.
"I'll see you soon, Blair. I'm sure," he added as a farewell. The same words he'd used at the Grill last night. Were they a threat or an invitation?
She nodded once and walked out, not looking back.
Damon waited until the front door clicked shut before turning to Stefan. "Great gal, Elena. She's got spunk," he said, just to irritate his brother. "And Blair... huh." He drew the syllable out. "That girl is the whole package. Hot, witty, smart." And brave too, Damon added in his thoughts. Her heart had been pounding the entire time—a clear sign that she knew exactly what he really was, if her many quips hadn't made that clear already—but she never showed her fear openly. Instead she'd looked him in the eye for twenty minutes and flirted with him. And she was genuinely funny. She'd matched his rhythm without effort, parried every innuendo without blushing. "No wonder you're so conflicted. I'd be too." He could definitely understand Stefan's fascination now that he'd met Blair properly. It certainly explained Stefan's uncharacteristic behavior. That girl was something else. He would enjoy playing with her.
"I'm not conflicted," Stefan said through gritted teeth. He pronounced the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. He looked constipated, the poor guy. The animal diet didn't suit him in the least.
"Sure you are. It's okay to admit it, Stefan. It's just us." Damon peered at Stefan's face, noticing he looked even broodier than usual. "You look pooped, brother. What is it? Did you over-exert yourself? Found a bad batch of Bambi blood? Oh, no… let me guess… hospital."
Stefan's jaw tightened. "Someone had to clean up your mess."
Damon sent him a smirk. "Well, were you successful? Did the powers of persuasion work? Remember, if you don't feed properly, none of those little tricks work right."
Stefan ignored the question. "How long was Elena here?"
"Were you worried, Stefan? Scared we may be doomed to repeat the past?" Damon let his grin widen. "Though maybe this time might be different. I predict a love square in our future instead of the old, boring love triangle. Wouldn't that be something?"
Stefan glared. "I told you to leave Elena out of this. And, for the last time, I have no interest in Blair."
Damon shrugged, not believing Stefan for a second. "Right. Then you won't mind if I have her for myself. She might be a fun distraction. She seems like the kind of girl who knows how to show a man a good time. After all, if you can play the 'high-school human' game, perhaps I can too. Find myself a human girlfriend, as well."
"I'm not playing any games."
Damon scoffed at Stefan's predictable reply. His brother was buried so deep in denial, it would be funny if it weren't so pitiable. "Of course, you are. We both know the closest you'll ever get to humanity is when you rip it open and feed on it."
Stefan ignored everything Damon had just said—which was also predictable—and asked, instead, "what kind of game are you playing, Damon?"
Damon let the smirk return and shrugged again. "Guess you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?"