"Time to get up," Damon laughed, bursting into Stefan's room. I was close behind him, a glass of water held tightly in my hand. "Come on. You can't stay in bed all day. Up."
When Elena and Stefan didn't wake, Damon walked over to me silently and took the glass from my hand. I smirked mischievously at him. He walked back over to Stefan's bedside and tipped the glass up so that all of the freezing water spilled over Stefan's naked chest.
"Gah!" he screamed, pushing Elena off him and wiping himself in the sheets. "Damon!"
I put my hand over my mouth, nearly doubled over in a fit of giggles. Elena was stirring, and I was surprised that she still hadn't awakened. Damon was leaning up against the wall, doubled over and shaking with silent laughter.
"Damon, you bastard," Stefan growled, ruffling his hair. Drops of water splashed over the bed. I giggled to myself.
"Damon," Elena groaned, rubbing her eyes. "What did you do that for?"
"Because I felt like it," Damon chuckled. "I would say that's a reasonably plausible motive. Don't you, Lizzie?"
"Oh, yes," I nodded, straightening my facial expression. "I would say that's a very plausible motive. Couldn't be a better motive, is you ask me."
"Well, nobody did ask you," Elena spat.
"Technically, Damon did," I smiled. That shut up the little bitch.
"I'm bored," I sighed after an awkward silence. "I'm going to see what the blond bimbo's up to."
"Who?" Damon frowned. "Caroline?"
"That would be the one," I said before belting out of Stefan's bedroom and down the long staircase. After slipping on a pair of Stefan's old trainers, I rushed out of the door and opened the garage door. Inside was Stefan's vintage red Porsche, which I'd been dying to drive since the moment I laid eyes on it.
You see, I have a thing for Porsches. Since I was a little girl, back in England, I'd always admired them and their sleek structure. I mean, they're sports cars, for crying out loud! Who wouldn't wish for a sports car?
They'd been one of the only cars I'd taken interest in - other than Ferraris, of course. I couldn't really identify why I favoured them over other sports cars. I suppose it's just preference. They've always stood out more compared to Minis and Jaguars and Mercedes.
I had already taken Stefan's keys from the kitchen worktop and unlocked the car with ease. My hands were shaking, but I managed to twist the key and unlock the door. As I slid into the driver's seat, my body tingled with excitement. This car was vintage. I mean, how many vintage Porsches do you find in an amazing condition?
And then I was off. Out of the driveway and down the road. The car bounced over the speed bumps and was knocked by the occasional pebble, but otherwise it slid along the concrete perfectly. This car was much smoother than my Porsche, which was either rusting in the driveway of my old house, or was stolen by some twat who couldn't afford to buy their own car.
I wasn't sure where I was going. I had intended to visit Caroline, but I then realised that I had no idea where she actually lived in Mystic Falls. That left me with fewer options.
The plan was still that my current existence was to be kept a secret. According to Stefan, most students at school had assumed that I'd committed suicide after refusing to deal with my parents any longer. Other suggestions were that I had ran off to some other state, or that I'd been kidnapped. These guesses were pretty reasonable, though they were far from the truth.
No. The truth was that I'd been turned into a vampire by my vampire boyfriend and was now living a totally unvampiric lifestyle. Yes, this life was far from the one of Edward Cullen. At least his life was full of action. Mine included romantic shit shared between Stefan and Elena, Damon's constant pining after Elena, and general bitching between Caroline and I. Or Elena and I. Either combination applied.
I decided on paying Jeremy Gilbert a visit. After all, I did actually know where he lived, and I needed to talk to him about Elena, and what he was going to do about her imbecilic choices.
He was awake, thank God, though he was still in a baggy shirt and boxers, and his hair was hanging around his eyes in sweaty strands. To be frank, he looked kind of hot - nothing like the little Jeremy Gilbert I'd grown up with. Not like Elena Gilbert's depressed little brother. No. This Jeremy was different beyond belief.
As he opened the door, I faint smile lingered on his lips.
"Morning," he mumbled, stepping beside and letting me through the front door. "Can I get you a drink?"
"Sure," I grinned, slipping off my shoes and flopping down onto the sofa. "How are you doing?"
"Good, I suppose. Well, as good as I can be. My sister's made the choice of helping out that bastard again, and wants her boyfriend to turn her into a vampire. She'll be eternally dead and, to add to that, she'll be hooked on blood. That's hardly what I want for her."
"I'm so sorry. I didn't really think of it that way. I guess I've never had to deal with something like this. I've always been emotionally numb. When my Mum died, it was like I cried for an hour or two, but then I just couldn't feel a thing. I couldn't feel the pain burning up inside of me. That's what I loathe about myself - that I seem to have no emotions when it comes to family."
"Everyone feels that sometimes. Don't worry about it. You're just suffering from shock. You'll get over it eventually, but that takes time. For me I felt the pain immediately, but, with you, I guess that you're just delayed."
"It makes me feel like a freak," I muttered, reaching up and taking the mug of hot coffee from his hands. He sat down beside me, throwing one of his arms across the back of the sofa.
"You're not a freak," he laughed. "You're just normal, I guess. We both are. What is normal, anyway? There is no formal definition of normal. You are yourself, and nobody can change that. If you don't want to forever mourn your mother's death, than that's fine, as long as you're happy with that choice. Everyone recovers in different ways. When my parents died, I turned to drugs. Stupid decsision, I know, but it got me through life until vampire compulsion picked me back up again, and I could be bothered to deal with it in the first place. I mean, I was compelled and all, but that only worked for the pain I was going through after Vicki Donovan's death. The death of my parents was just something I had to cope with."
"I see your point. Though I really do want to care. I just feel like I'm betraying the memory of my mum by not even thinking of her everyday. And, when I do think abou her, it's how much I hated her, and how she made my life Hell."
"Look, Lizzie. If that's how you want to think about your mother, then that's up to you. You can't like everyone, and it turns out that you prefer to remember her as a bitch. If that's what makes you happy, then so be it."
"Thanks, Jeremy," I whispered, turning to face him and finding his warm brown eyes before mine.
"Wow, your eyes are gorgeous," I complimented before I could stop myself.
"Thanks," he chuckled. "I don't hear that much."
"I don't see why not. You're a very handsome young man, Jeremy. One day you'll make an amazing husband. Then you'll be an amazing father to however many children you have with your future wife."
"If you say so. I don't think I'm the paternal type. I scare kids off the minute they see me."
"That's hardly true. I know that Bonnie loves you, and would love to have kids with you. Possibly. I mean, we're all pretty messed up at the moment, but I'm sure she'd love to have your children."
"This conversation just got awkward."
"Too right it did."
"Sorry."
"What are you apologising for? I should be the one saying sorry. I was the one who started this conversation."
"But-"
Before Jeremy could say another word I leaned forward and kissed him. He was shocked, and, to be frank, so was I, but as I pressed my lips violently against his, every aspect of pain I'd ever been forced to endure was healed.
It wasn't long before Jeremy's tongue was twisting around mine, and his hands curved around the shape of my face. My fingers locked into his hair, and it was there we stayed for several minutes, connected by much more than similarities in family issues.
I was the one to break away.
"Oh, fuck," I gasped, catching my breath. "I shouldn't have done that. I really shouldn't have done that. God, Jer. I'm so sorry. I just..."
I stood up, put my feet back into my shoes and hurried from the Gilbert house. That was wrong. That was just so wrong on somany levels. I should never have snogged Jeremy. It's just not right. I'm with Damon. He's with Bonnie. He's my enemy's younger brother (well, cousin, if we're being technical). Jeremy was an ex-drug addict. I'll always be a psychopathic whore. We just don't belong together.
As I ran down the road as fast as lightening, completely abandoning Stefan's car, I realised that Jeremy Gilbert was my male equivalent.