"What are you doing?" I asked apprehensively, closing the front door behind me.
"Elena has requested a 'normal evening' , and Stefan being, well, Stefan, he's giving her what she wants," Damon shrugged, rolling his eyes as he carried a stack of plates into the kitchen. "However, Stefan's going a bit overboard."
"What's new?" I called after him. "Need a hand?"
"We could do without your help," Elena scolded, appearing out of nowhere. She approached me with long strides, her fists clenched by her sides. "Jeremy just phoned me, distraught. Said you'd been round to see him. I hate to be harsh, and I don't know what happened while you were over there, but just stay away from my brother."
I let out a long sigh, wishing that there was some way of forgetting the incident at the Gilbert house. I put on the fakest of smiles and let the lie escape from my lips; the lips Jeremy had touched only moments ago. "It was nothing, Elena. We just had a very deep conversation - a personal one, at that. I guess what we spoke about kind of hit home for him. I didn't intend to do him any harm, Elena. I promise. I'd never want to do him any harm. He's a good kid."
"I know he is," Elena nodded. "And I don't want to see him get hurt. I appreciate it that you were trying to help him with this 'deep conversation' , but, please, just help him through it all afterwards. He's been through a lot, Lizzie. More than he can handle. It's difficult for him. I mean, I'm not making the wisest of choices at the moment, but it's all for the best. You'll all realise that. Klaus is one to stick to his word. You've just got to make sure that there are no loopholes in the deal you make with him. I've already checked through everything I said, and everything that I'm going to say to him. There's no way he can play me on this one."
It sounded like Elena was reassuring herself of these details more than she was notifying me of the details of making a deal with Klaus. In a way I was glad that Elena dared to share such thoughts, as it showed that maybe, some day soon, she'd be able to trust me. Wait. What am I thinking? That's just not possible. I'll always hate Elena, and she'll always hate me. It's just how it's supposed to be, period. Nothing can ever change.
I spun on my heel and walked off, leaving Elena to ponder her thoughts. Damon and Stefan were in the kitchen. While Damon was crouched on the floor, leaning into a cupboard filled with fragile glass, Stefan was stood on his toes, stretching up and trying to grab something from the top of one of the highest cupboards. I leaned against the door frame and folded my arms across my chest.
"And what do we have here then?" I inquired, cocking an eyebrow at the brothers as they turned to face me. Though I came across looking at Damon, I was actually eyeing up Stefan's muscles under his tight grey shirt. I smirked to myself before standing up straight and stepping forward with dramatic footfalls.
"Stefan cooking dinner," Damon exclaimed, purring across just the right amount of sarcasm to make the situation funny.
"Big shocker," I teased, gasping. "I'd have never of thought someone with your breathtaking looks would actually know how to cook. You muscly guys almost have as bad a reputation as the blonds. It's not good for your ego, you know. Being muscly, I mean. You could suddenly get too cocky and then everyone will turn on you. I've seen it in movies."
"Now your talking shit," Damon smiled, turning back into the cupboard. "Say something interesting, blondie. I'm bored here. Saint Stefan has me on the 'find the vintage crystal glasses' mission. I need to be audibly entertained."
"Sorry," I sighed. "I can't help you there. I'm too blonde to come up with something witty to say to you. Anything else I can do? Pour some blood into one of those fancy crystal glasses you possess? I'm sure you vamps are hungry. I know that I haven't eaten in a day or two. Surely you two haven't kept yourselves fed."
"Actually, we had a bite to eat earlier," Damon muttered, winking at me. Stefan just shook his head, a smile threatening on his lips.
"Don't smile, Stefan," I taunted. "You might pull a muscle. What a shame that would be, huh? We don't want to ruin your pretty little face."
Stefan just stayed silent. I couldn't decide if he was ignoring me, or if he just didn't have anything worth saying. I much preferred the second excuse - I really do hate it when people decide to ignore me when I could be saying something deadly crucial. I mean, this could be a life or death statement, and he wouldn't have heard a word I'd said. Next thing you know, Klaus could be driving a sharpened stake through Stefan's heart, and he wouldn't have listened to my warning beforehand. This is why you should always listen to me, even if I am talking crap. That crap might be useful one day (in the distant future).
Anyway, I was the one to break the awkward silence - again. It seemed everyone else in the household enjoyed the peace, whereas I was a fan of noise and chaos. It's nothing unusual, just the way I've been raised.
"So, what are we actually up to this evening?" I asked, giving up with the sarcasm. "Because all I've heard is that Stefan's pushed the boundaries. Again."
"No, I'm not pushing the boundaries," Stefan protested. "I just think we should all get together and have a good time. We need to forget about Klaus for now and focus on the present."
"So a fancy dinner party is the way to do it?" I grimaced.
"A fancy dinner party with alcohol," Damon interjected.
"Okay, so there will be alcohol," I grinned. "But, that aside, don't you think that a dinner party is a bit extreme? I mean, it's a bit posh for a bunch of supernatural freaks, isn't it?"
"It's a chance for you and I to get pissed and embarass Stefan and Elena." Damon winked at me again. Stefan scowled at him. I looked between the pair of them, deciding whose side to take. I rested on sitting on the fence.
"Well, I'll be off upstairs," I announced. "Might see what crap's on the TV. I just hope there won't be another shitty repeat of a shitty Glee episode."
I turned around and legged it up the stairs. As I burst into the spare bedroom and flopped back onto the bed, Damon followed me in.
"Can I help you?" I inquired.
"I got you this," he said, stepping forward and handing me a tiny black rectangular thing.
"What is it?"
"One of those iPod things," he said awkwardly. "Kind of crap, really, but I figured your crappy MP3 is getting worn out. Elena recommended that I get you an iPod. I've already stocked it up with music, though most of it is the music I listen to. You know, suicidal crap about lost souls who've lost there girl and start to suffer from a tragic emo phase, causing them to slit their pretty little wrists and get drunk. I'd better go and see if there's anything else I can help out with downstairs. I can almost hear Saint Stefan calling me. See ya."
"See ya," I whispered, turning the iPod over in my hands. I'd never actually come this close to one of these things, as my good old MP3 had always sufficed. I didn't even know how to turn on the blood piece of techno-crap, though I figured it out eventually.
I scrolled through the music, not knowing half of the songs on there. I came across a few familiar ones, that Damon must have put on there for my sake, like Running Up That Hill by Placebo, and Skinny Love by Birdy, but they weren't my favourites. Then there was one that I really did recognise, and it happened to be one of my favourite songs, like, ever.
I plugged the little earphones into my ears and began listening to A Drop In The Oceanby Ron Pope. I'd heard the song on TV once, and instantly fell in love with it. Of course, listening to it generally resulted in me uncontrollably sobbing, but I felt like taking that risk.
A drop in the ocean. A change in the weather.
I was praying that you and me might end up together.
It's like wishing for rain as I stand in the desert.
But I'm holding you closer that most, 'cause you are my heaven.
The chords were a little weak, and the guy singing it sounded slightly like a woman, but, apart from that, it was an amazing song. I mean, you don't get many songs as epic as this one.
It ended as quickly as it had started, and on came another song. It was seriously crap.
To be frank, I was glad when Stefan knocked on my door and told me dinner was going to be ready soon. I immediately got my arse downstairs and began swigging from a neat bottle of vodka. Damon mirrored my actions, consciously swigging from his own bottle.
"Guys," Stefan sighed. "Please, save the alcohol until later. We haven't even had dinner yet."
"That'sexactlywhywearedrinkingnowStefan," I slurred, transforming the simple sentence into one, long word. "Godyoureallyaresostupid."
There was a knock on the door, and I rushed off to answer it. Alaric Saltzman was stood with his left leg supporting all of his weight, one hand in his pocket while the other was by his side, holding a bottle of Scotch.
"Oh, more alcohol," I smirked, implying maximum effort when trying to separate my words. "Good evening, Mr Saltzman. It's good to see you again. I've missed your history lessons."
"Evening, Lizzie," he replied politely, his blue eyes almost completely hidden by his mousy hair. "May I come in?"
"Sure," I said considerably, stepping aside to let him in.
"Thank you," he muttered, nodding at me before hugging Elena.
"Where's Jeremy?" Elena asked. I shivered at the sound of his name. Jeremy. Jeremy Gilbert. The unstable guy I'd snogged after an emotional chat. I'm such a massive whore. I'll be after Tyler Lockwood next - just you wait. He'll be the next person I fuck. Unless I fuck Damon later, which is probable, seeing as both of us are already off our heads.
"He's on his way," Alaric said, pulling back from the hug. "He's picking up Bonnie on his way here."
Elena distinctly looked at me over Alaric's shoulder, her eyes giving me a warning that happened to be so much stronger than words. I raised an eyebrow before turning away and searching for Damon.
I found him in the study, slouched across the sofa with his empty vodka bottle smashed across the floor. His eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell with heavy, unconscious breaths, but it was almost impossible that he was asleep.
I slowly strided over to the sofa and sat down on top of his chest. He didn't stir, so I ran my fingers along his jawbone, and as they made his way down his neck and across his chest, he shuddered.
"I see you're still conscious," I breathed, leaning down so that I was whispering directly into his ear. "Saint Stefan needs you in the kitchen. Dinner's almost ready, and I'm not in the mood to help anyone this evening. You're the deputy host. Go do what you're told."
"I'll do what I'm told now if you do what you're told later," he murmured mischievously.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I was truly clueless.
"I'll explain later." He pushed me off of him and stood up, brushing tiny shards of glass from the creases in his shirt. "Though I'm sure you'll figure out what I mean by then."
He left me in the room by myself, and I was so bored that I felt the desperate need to clean up the broken glass. What was I thinking? Damon had make the fucking mess. He could clean it up. I may be his girlfriend, but that doesn't mean that he has the right to make me do his dirty work. Nuh uh. No way. I'd had controlling boyfriends in the past, and I wasn't going to endure another pathetic twat taking control of me.
"Lizzie," Stefan called. "Can you get the door?"
"Sure," I yelled back, knowing that a confrontation with Jeremy was only seconds away.
As I opened the door, I could feel Elena watching me, realising how cautious I was as I greeted Jeremy.
The moment he saw me, his apprehensively took me into his arms.
"We need to talk," he murmured in my ear.
"I know," I whimpered, then smiled at Bonnie.
Damn, this was going to be an awkward evening.