Damon Salvatore:
Monday, May 13, 2013

As I pull into Hartsfield-Jackson's drop-off zone, Elena faces the motley crew of family members squished into the backseat of my Camaro. "Are you sure you have everything?" she asks – for the third time in the twenty-eight minutes it's taken me to chauffer everyone from the boarding house to the airport.

"Yes, Elena." I can practically hear Stefan and Jeremy roll their eyes at her. Then they snicker and give each other a fist bump. Dicks.

Elena scowls at them before slumping back into the passenger seat. "Whose idea was it to introduce our families to each other?" she gripes. "All they've done is pick on me this entire weekend."

"Hey, Peppe and I didn't do anything!" Aunt Jenna protests.

I make eye contact with Dad in the review mirror. "Peppe?" I mouth. He gives me that patented Salvatore smirk before getting out of the car and strutting to open Aunt Jenna's door.

As Stefan and Jeremy unload everyone's bags from the trunk, Elena and I stare at each other with twin looks of horror.

"Peppe?" she repeats, her voice an octave higher than usual.

"It's a nickname for Giuseppe. And I'm pretty sure he called your aunt 'Bella Jennifer' at the party last night." When Elena's dismay grows, I thread my fingers through hers. "Cheer up, buttercup. At least we're not going to join the ranks of Romeo and Juliet and die because our families are a bunch of feuding wackos. Our families actually get along. That's a good thing."

"Maybe too much of a good thing," she mutters as we watch Dad and Aunt Jenna program their numbers into each other's phones. Not gonna lie, my Dad's still got game. Or maybe we Salvatores are just suckers for women from the Sommers gene pool. Probably both.

I wrap my arm around Elena's shoulders. "Come on. The sooner we send everyone on their merry way, the sooner I get you alone." I discreetly nip her ear. "It's been too long since we've been alone…"

"We were alone in your office yesterday before the ceremony," she reminds me with a come-hither grin.

"Yes, and if I'd known how turned on you'd get at the sight of me in my academic robes, I'd have donned them a lot sooner."

Seriously, I'm the luckiest bastard in the world. What other professor's girlfriend would throw him to his office floor and give him the ride of his life – in her cap and gown, nonetheless, because it's twenty minutes before her graduation ceremony's supposed to start – at the sight of him in academic regalia? Then again, I'm just as turned on by Elena's brilliance. The night she read an excerpt from her novel for her Senior Showcase, I dragged her back to my office caveman-style and fucked her silly against my bookshelves, desk, and couch. We spent the night there because we were too exhausted to put on our clothes.

My dick stiffens at the memories of the hours of loving my office has seen this semester. It deflates when a pair of knuckles rap on my window.

I glare at Stefan and Jeremy. "What do you want, Wonder Twins?"

They cross their arms and try (and fail) to look menacing. "Could you not molest my sister in the middle of an airport drop-off zone?" Jeremy demands. "There are children around!"

"Yeah, like this guy." Stefan elbows Jeremy in the ribs. "You're stealing his innocence!"

"Oh no, that's been gone for a while," Aunt Jenna cuts in. Dad laughs as Jeremy rolls his eyes, and Elena and I share an amused glance before we step out of the car to say goodbye to our families.

As I hug Aunt Jenna and watch Elena giggle at something Dad tells her, I marvel that I, perpetual lone-man Damon Salvatore, now feel like I'm part of not one but two families. It's Elena's fault. When I watched her board her bus on Christmas Eve, I felt like someone ripped my heart from my chest and packed it in her suitcase. And as that bus pulled away and took my heart and my Elena with it, clarity crashed on my head like an anvil in one of those Looney Tunes cartoons: I had to go after her. I had to be with Elena on Christmas. I couldn't wait until she returned to Atlanta in three weeks to tell her about the policy change or learn about her holiday or feel my stomach flip whenever she turns those doe eyes my way. Call it a gut instinct, but the second that bus left my sight, I moved on autopilot. I sped to the boarding house, tossed some clothes and the hot-off-the-press policy handbook in a bag, and zipped onto the highway with my GPS set for Mystic Falls.

Those eight hours of driving through Bumfuck, Nowhere? Of groveling to Donovan so he would help me team up with Elena's aunt and brother to surprise Elena that night? Of swallowing my pride and having separate phone conversations with Stefan and Dad to explain that I wouldn't be joining them for Christmas because I had to follow my heart to a tiny town in the middle of Virginia and be with the woman I loved more than life itself? All worth it to see the shock on Elena's face when she saw me standing outside her house. All worth it to watch her read the handbook, realize that we could be a public couple next semester, and let me kiss her on her front porch. But the cherry on top of the really big sundae that was my Christmas Eve (and yes, I know I'm going to sound like a total sap when I say this)? Being invited into a house swarming with people who genuinely wanted to spend the holidays with each other and who wanted me to spend the holidays with them. Elena's Mystic Falls family didn't care that I was crashing their Christmas Eve on a moment's notice. Well, Aunt Jenna commented over dinner that I should give her a twelve-hour warning next year before I show up on her porch. She also pulled me aside when Elena was in the shower to interrogate me about "my intentions" with her niece.

She crossed her arms. "You're Elena's professor."

"Now-former professor."

"And you're seven years older than her."

"Yes."

"Can I be honest with you, Damon?"

I nodded.

"You've had a lot more life experience than Elena. You've had more time than she has to become sure of who you are and what you want. You're settled into your life while she's still trying to decide what she wants hers to be." She shifted in her seat. "I'm sure you're a great guy, but I'd be lying if I said that I was completely okay with the two of you together. You and Elena are at very different places in your lives. I don't want her to feel pressured into settling for a life she's not ready for if she keeps seeing you."

"I don't want to pressure Elena into settling for anything. I want her to get everything she wants from life now and five, ten, twenty years from now. But I'm also learning more about myself every day, just as I'm sure you keep discovering things about yourself." I angled my body towards hers. "I'm very particular about who I spend my time with, so I take the select friendships I have very seriously. I wouldn't drive eight hours on Christmas Eve to be with your niece if I thought we didn't have lasting power. I want us to grow together. I want her in my life for as long as possible, and that's something about myself I know in my gut won't change."

Aunt Jenna studied my face. "I want to like you," she finally said. "Don't give me a reason not to."

"I won't."

"And Damon?" She offered me a smile that eased the tension from my body. "I haven't seen Elena this happy since her parents were alive. If you continue to make her this happy, you can stay as long as you want."

And I did. In Elena's room, to be precise. I'd fully expected to get booted to the couch for propriety's sake, but I quickly learned that propriety is hardly an issue in the Gilbert house after Elena, Little Gilbert, Little Gilbert's Girlfriend, and I were treated to the sight of a boozy Aunt Jenna showing us the moves she and her girlfriends learned in a pole-dancing class. Anyways, I fell asleep and woke up with Elena in my arms every day that Christmas week. It's crazy how something as simple as feeling her cozied up to me made my chest feel all light and butterfly-y.

Another highlight of my time in Mystic Falls? Browsing the Gilbert family photo albums and listening to Elena explain the context of every picture. She was a cute kid with her big eyes, long pigtails, and missing teeth. My favorite picture was of her and Donovan dressed as Leia and Luke from Star Wars for their eighth Halloween. And cute kid Elena definitely developed into star-of-wet-dreams teen Elena. The shots I saw of her in her slip of a cheerleading uniform? It's no wonder Donovan felt protective of her – there's no way Elena didn't have to use a bat to beat back her would-be suitors. Hell, I found myself getting a little jealous of all the barely-pubescent boys who got to watch Elena walk around every game day wearing that swishy skirt.

I nudged her. "Do you still have your uniform?"

She shrugged. "I think it's buried in the back of my closet. Why?"

"Bring it to Atlanta."

I spent the rest of the week playing video games with Little Gilbert, touring the Fell Mansion with Aunt Jenna, and walking around downtown Mystic Falls with Elena, Donovan, and some of her other high school friends-turned-acquaintances. We spent most of our nights schmoozing with people at a place called The Grill – Mystic Falls' only restaurant, according to Elena. I didn't complain. I was just happy to be with her. She introduced me to everyone she knew as "her Damon", which was a nice change from Katherine ignoring my existence around the people she always ditched me for. Just another example I could add to my very long lists of Why Elena Is the Best and Why Katherine Can Rot in a Fiery Pit of Hell.

And after spending a week with Elena and her family, my internal list dedicated to Elena's greatness had grown pretty long. But when she told me that she wanted to cancel her return flight and road trip with me to Atlanta so we could spend New Years Eve and Day with Dad and Stefan? Her goodness broke my list the way the Grinch's heart broke the handheld X-Ray machine because it was so above and beyond what I thought I deserved from someone. I mean, this woman was choosing to walk with me into the lion's den because she knew I was reluctant to do it alone. If an award existed for the most selfless person on the planet, Elena would win it in a heartbeat just for being with me on New Year's Eve.

The trip back to Atlanta started easy enough. I kept my left hand on the steering wheel as my right fingers curled around Elena's. She stuck her sock-clad feet on the dashboard and controlled the radio, which ended up being background noise anyway since we talked the entire first half of the drive. But the closer we got to Atlanta, the more the Ghosts of Family Encounters Past invaded my head.

"When was the last time you saw your father and Stefan?" Elena asked.

The Georgia welcome sign passed by in a blur of blue. "Two, maybe three years ago?" I frowned as I tried to remember. "Stefan's then-orchestra played a gig in Charlottesville. I was on my way to the library to do some research for my doctoral thesis when I ran into them exiting the concert hall."

"Did they tell you they'd be in town?"

"Nope."

We both stared out the window at the leafless sycamore trees. I don't know what Elena was thinking, but I remembered the indifferent look on both of their faces when they saw me on the street...the way I forced my expression to match their apathetic ones when all I wanted to do was hit something.

After a bout of silence, Elena squeezed my hand.

"Things will be better this time," she said.

And even though I was reluctant to believe her after twenty-four years of family estrangement, Elena and I beat the odds together once again.

Dad and Stefan actually warmed to Elena's presence in the boarding house faster than they did mine. Within seconds of our arrival, she'd already introduced herself, settled the two of us in the loveseat next to the fireplace, and engaged them in a conversation about why she preferred to play Ravel's Gaspard de la Nuit over Ligeti's Itudes por piano. Dad and Stefan were skeptical. Apparently those two pieces of music are ridiculously difficult to play. But then Elena strolled over to the piano in the corner of the room and breezed through one of those pieces as if it was no more difficult than playing "Chopsticks". Stefan's mouth fell so far to the floor, he could've shoved his big feet in there and still had room for dessert. Then Elena asked him to duet with her on Faure's Violin Sonato No. 1, and it sounded flawless, and Stefan was putty in her hands from that moment on.

Dad? Not so much. As Elena and Stefan encouraged each other through Faure, Dad's mouth stayed firmly pressed in a thin line of disapproval.

He spoke in a voice that dripped with condescension. "Is she even legal?"

"She's twenty-four, Father," I said through clenched teeth. "And she's going to earn her MFA this spring."

"It's not the most fruitful pursuit, but I presume she's with you to make the most of her academic connections," he said. I balled my hands into fists to keep from ripping out his larynx. Implying that Elena's some kind of intellectual prestige gold-digger who can't accomplish things on her own? Not acceptable.

Discordant notes clanged from the piano as Elena's fingers slammed down on the keys. She whirled around and fixed Dad with a glare. "Pardon the interruption, Mr. Salvatore," she said in a voice cold enough to freeze hell, "But you should know that I prefer to leave my clothes on when I make the most of my academic connections."

I took a sip of bourbon to keep from sniggering at the stunned looks on Dad and Stefan's faces. I bet Mom was the last woman to dare speak so frankly to Dad.

"And," she continued, "I'm with Damon because I'm in love with him. He's generous and thoughtful and boosts my confidence that I've got the capability to do anything if I set my mind to it. He's someone I want in my life for as long as he'll have me because he makes me want to be a better person. He has so many redeeming qualities, it would take an eternity for me to name all of them."

Her voice softened. "I know the three of you haven't had the easiest relationship, but none of you would be here if you weren't searching for reconciliation. And because I'm invested in Damon – and the two of you by proxy – I hope you can call a ceasefire and find common ground with each other. Don't waste this rare time with each other. You want things to be better? Make them better."

And then, as if the three of us weren't staring at her with a mixture of shock, awe, and pride, she turned back to Stefan and continued playing the piano as if her speech wasn't more motivational than William Wallace yelling to his men about freedom.

Looking back, it's plain to see that the three of us took Elena's words to heart. Stefan and I started acting like brothers on that same night when he came to Bree's Bar with me and Elena to watch the ball drop. Elena was a great buffer for the first half of the night, but when she took a bathroom break, Stefan and I awkwardly twiddled our thumbs at the bar.

"So..."

"So..." I echoed.

Cue the chirping crickets.

"I like her," Stefan finally said. "Elena. She reminds me of Lexi."

"Lexi?"

"My girlfriend."

"Oh." Talking about Stefan's girlfriend seemed like as good a conversation starter as any. "How did you meet?"

Conversations about Stefan's Bon Jovi-roadie girlfriend prompted me to talk about Donovan's Band and their rivalry with The Originals, which led to a story about how Stefan's current group was asked by the TLC channel to star in a new television show named Orchestra Wars about rivalries within and between the world's top orchestras (they turned down the offer), which then launched us into a discussion about competition in the music and academic fields. And then I started talking about Elena's novel and how it was about two brothers who competed with each other because they fell in love with the same girl, so it only seemed natural that the next words out of my mouth were an apology to Stefan for acting like a super-dick when all he did was inherit Mom's musical talent. And he said for the longest time he didn't know what he did to make me hate him so much, and I told him that it was Father I hated, not him, and he said that he was sorry for not encouraging Father to be fairer with me. And then some of the weight lifted from my chest, and we shared a lot of embarrassing bro-hugs and joked about submitting a video to The Amazing Race. Elena came back from wherever because it was an hour after she left for the bathroom and there's no way she took that long to take a piss. She grinned at me and the ball dropped and I kissed her at midnight and my winter vacation kept getting better and better.

The three of us quickly became a package deal during the rest of break. We explored the woods in our backyard and practiced balancing on the felled trees. Stefan and I taught Elena how to throw a football and she gave us swing lessons. We alternated our nights between stargazing, playing pool, and flipping through the Salvatore family photo albums, where Elena gushed at the sight of three-year-old me dressed as a Confederate soldier for Halloween. Dad joined us on occasion, having succumbed to Elena's charms, but those times were more uncomfortable because he and I had yet to have the balls-to-the-wall conversation about our relationship that Stefan and I had on New Year's Eve.

Elena was ready to tear her hair out from her frustration with us. She started conversations with Dad by bragging about my accomplishments, and she asked me at least once a day if she wanted her and Stefan to leave so Dad and I could have some alone time. He and I didn't take her bait. We were both too stubborn to be the first to admit that we were wrong, but Elena refused to be deterred. One day, while Stefan and I tossed the ball out back, I looked at the house and saw Elena and Dad in a heated conversation through the window. She gave him her "fix your shit" eyebrow, and he shook his head, and she pointed in my direction without taking her eyes off him, and I'm not a lip reader but I think she yelled something like "he's your son, Mr. Salvatore!" Then she hugged him and damn if the look on his face wasn't etched with conflict. He looked over her shoulder and through the window at me, and my eyes didn't waiver from his until Elena broke their hug, patted his shoulder, and walked away.

That night, I savored a tumbler of bourbon in front of the fireplace by myself. Elena was at her apartment and Stefan was practicing a trumpet solo in his bedroom. Heavy footsteps sounded behind me before Dad sat on the loveseat adjacent from mine with a full brandy snifter in his hand. We didn't say anything at first, just sat and listened to the crackles of the fire.

"You have your mother's eyes," he said. "You also have her hair and mouth, but your eyes are exactly like hers. Every time I looked at you, I saw a miniature version of her. She was my light, and I didn't know how to sustain that light when she died. I felt lost without her. Every time I saw you, I saw her, and I was reminded that she was gone and never coming back."

"I felt just as lost as you did." My chest felt like it was about to split from the years of pent-up hurt that was clawing its way to my surface. "I missed Mom. I knew what'd happened but I didn't know how to make sense of it. You were too busy with Stefan to give me the time of day. Every time I tried to get your attention, you looked at me as if I killed Mom, and I couldn't understand why you didn't look at Stefan that way."

Dad stared at the flames. "Your brother never had the opportunity to know your mother. If he couldn't know her love, I was going to be sure that he felt mine."

"So you took your love from me and gave it to Stefan. Great plan, Father," I scowled. "I lost both of my parents the day Mom died."

"I wasn't much of a parent to you before your mother died, Damon. Your mother took care of you and I footed the bill. I didn't know a thing about raising a seven-year-old boy."

"Because raising a baby was so much easier," I retorted.

Dad frowned. "I thought I could atone for being an inadequate parent to you by being an exemplary one to your brother. I didn't think you needed my guidance. You always approached your mother about such things."

"Well, I couldn't do that anymore, could I?"

Dad looked down at his glass. "No…I suppose not."

"You shouldn't have abandoned me when she died."

I stared at the fire. There was so much more I could say, but all the hurt, frustration, disappointment, and bitterness I'd held towards Dad for the past twenty-four years was expressed in those last eight words. I couldn't keep choking on the bitter pill lodged in my throat this entire time.

"I'm sorry."

My eyebrows raced to my hairline. I blinked. I thought I misheard him. "What?"

Dad looked at me, his face slouched with regret. "I was wrong…and I'm sorry, son."

I could have asked him "For what?" or made him work for my forgiveness, but I didn't. I couldn't. Enough was enough. Dad's got a ton of pride, so the fact that he manned up and apologized was huge. And if he could be brave enough to admit that he was wrong, then maybe I could be brave enough to let go of the past that I'd dragged with me for so long.

"I'm sorry, too…Dad."

Not gonna lie, calling Dad Dad instead of Father for the first time felt weird. Really weird. But after his eyes flashed with hope, and especially after Elena's eyes teared up when I drove to her place later that night and told her what'd happened, I decided that saying "Father" was so 1864 and that maybe I'd try to stick with this "Dad" thing. Maybe it'd feel right after a while.

It did.

As Elena chats with her family and Stefan, I extend my hand to Dad. "Thanks for coming to Elena's graduation," I say. "It meant a lot to her. To us."

He takes my hand – an older replica of his – and shakes it. "She's a fine girl, your Elena. It takes hard work to graduate a Master's program with Honors. I couldn't be prouder of her for all she's accomplished."

"She's amazing," I agree. "I'm glad you and Stefan were able to celebrate with us."

"The least your brother and I could do was support Elena on her special day. She's done a lot for our family," he says, no doubt referring to the way she kicked all of our asses over winter break. He leans close. "And if you ask her to become an official part of the Salvatore family, you have my blessing," he adds in a lowered voice. He winks at me before rejoining the rest of our families. I loiter by myself for a brief moment, not because I'm reeling from what Dad insinuated but because I don't want to explain to everyone why I'm grinning like a loon. Because what Dad implied about Elena joining the Salvatore family? She and I've talked about it. It's going to happen. Not for another two to three years – Elena wants to find a job and make a name for herself there, and I want to establish my reputation as a prominent Civil War scholar at U of A – but Elena will most definitely be a Salvatore by the end of the decade.

Or a Gilbert-Salvatore. Or she can keep her maiden name. Don't get me wrong, I'm going to make a strong case for Elena Salvatore, but she can take on whatever name she wants when we get hitched – I don't need her to change her name to know that she's mine and I'm hers.

When I rejoin the group, Elena's busy telling everyone to text us when they land. We exchange final hugs with everyone.

"See you soon!" Elena calls at the retreating figures of our brothers and parental figures as they disappear into the airport. We get into my Camaro and I pull away from the curb.

Elena's quiet as I ease us onto the highway. I squeeze her hand. "You okay?"

She nods. "It was nice seeing everyone this weekend."

"It was."

"Thanks for letting Aunt Jenna and Jeremy stay at the boarding house." She props her feet on the dashboard. "I think they would have stayed longer if your family wasn't leaving as well."

"Yeah, we'll have to keep an eye on our brothers' budding bromance. And whatever the hell's going on between your aunt and my Dad."

Elena makes a face. "I so don't want to think about that."

"You and I both."

"I don't want to think about anything, actually," she says. "I feel like I've done nothing but think for the past six years I've been in school. If I try to cram any more information into my brain, it's going to explode and leave brain goo all over your car."

I laugh. "This car is a brain goo-free zone, Elena. If any part of you is going to explode in my car, I'd rather it be this." My fingers skim under the hem of her shorts.

She rolls her eyes at my waggling eyebrows but smiles all the same. "Perv."

"Yeah, but you love me."

She exaggeratedly sighs. "Yeah, I do."

"Love you too."

We slip into comfortable silence as I continue driving towards Elena's apartment. Her brain may be temporarily turned off, but now that the school year's officially over, I can't help but think about how crazy it's been for us – as individuals and as a couple. We knew it would be challenging, what with the unknown ramifications of the policy change we'd have to deal with being added on top of our other responsibilities. My tactical instincts kicked in after Dad and Stefan left Atlanta after winter break, and Elena and I bunkered down in my tub to strategize how to approach the semester together.

First things first: our class. Elena and I decided that we'd probably receive a lot of negative attention if she re-signed up to TA Music Through History since the entire university was about to find out that we were in a relationship, so I'd officially instruct the class on my own. I still didn't feel confident in my ability to adequately teach the music section of the course, so Elena agreed to drop in on class twice a month as a guest lecturer. Her lessons were exceptional. Elena could be a Music History professor as easily as a Creative Writing one. She always made a ten-page outline for each of her guest-sessions, but she stuck to it for maybe about five minutes before she went off-script and recited over an hour's worth of music history from memory. I learned a ton from her lessons, especially the ones on the role on music in American wars. Did you know that World War II was the first time that classical music was mobilized as a weapon of war? I didn't, but Elena did. She's a born teacher, my Elena.

Unfortunately, the English department offered Elena's writing workshop leadership job to another student, so she emailed all of her professors to ask if they needed extra help or knew of any last-minute writing job openings in the Atlanta region. One of them responded the day before the semester began to say that the graduate student originally contracted to teach English 101G had to bow out due to "unforeseen circumstances" and asked Elena if she could fill in. Elena immediately accepted the offer, grateful to still be able to add a teaching job to her resume, and planned a class around the theme of Writing in Music – which, according to the anonymous reviews she received at the end of the semester, was "cooler than taking a boring English class about boring books" because "Miss Gilbert knew her shit" and "made [me] want to learn more".

Academics aside, Elena and I also used that bathtub strategy session to address how the changed policy would affect us as a couple.

"You know that we're going to be fish in a city-wide fishbowl, right?" I asked as I traced circles on Elena's wet stomach. "All eyes are going to be on us. We're going to have no privacy whenever people see us together."

Elena twisted to face me. "Are you okay with that? I know how much you like your privacy."

I kissed her forehead. "Sacrificing my privacy is a small price to pay to be with you in public, Elena."

"I was hoping you'd say that." The water sloshed as she slumped into my chest. "No more sneaking around, right?"

"No more," I agreed. "We should meet with Dean Shane as soon as possible to let him know about us. We've got nothing to hide."

(We didn't. But that didn't stop all of the faculty members who were against the policy change from acting like assholes and telling Elena and I to our face what they thought of our relationship. I was called a "disgusting predator" who "abused professorial authority" by "manipulating a student's emotions". Elena was branded either as an innocent caught in my lothario schemes or a slut who would sleep with any professor in exchange for academic favors. Both of us were told by numerous people who didn't have a fucking clue that we were wrong to want to be together. Thank God for Ric. Whenever anyone made a snide comment about my and Elena's relationship in front of him, he promptly told them where they could shove their bigoted opinions about people they didn't know.)

I nudged Elena when she didn't respond. "What's wrong?"

She hesitated. "What happens when Dr. Pierce shows up and wants you back?"

My heart clenched at the way Elena's voice waivered at the mention of Katherine. "First of all, Katherine's not allowed to come within a thousand feet of campus. Word on the street is she was fired when the department looked into her spending history and discovered that she was using more than her share of departmental funds to pay for her personal expenses. If I see her, I'm calling Campus Security and asking them to escort her off university property. And I don't care if she wants me back. You're the one I want to be with, Elena. I'm not going to waste another second of my time on that vamp when I can spend it with you."

Elena's resulting smile shone brighter than the sun. "You always know how to make me feel better," she murmured. "How is that?"

"Don't know, but I'll try to keep doing it." I wrapped my arms around her. "I'll probably screw up more times than I can count, but I promise that I'll always try to do right by you."

"We'll both screw up," she admitted. "But we'll figure things out together."

I smirk as I glance over at a now-sleeping Elena in the passenger seat. She and I've definitely had our rougher moments as a couple. She accidentally forced me into bullshitting through her lecture on protest music when she forgot about class and decided to go to yoga with Caroline. We both had minor jealousy issues whenever someone mistakenly hit on us at Donovan's, and sometimes we just sucked at communication. Our biggest fight happened at my place just before Valentine's Day when Elena browsed through my cell phone and stumbled upon a weekly event in my calendar (that I poorly) titled "Jenny – Secret".

"Who's Jenny, and why are you meeting with her every Tuesday at seven?" she demanded.

I knew that my meetings with Jenny were nothing bad, so I didn't look up from the book I was reading. "I can't tell you."

Her eyes narrowed. "Why not?"

"Because that's for me to know and you to dot dot dot."

(Probably wouldn't have responded that way had I known how much Elena was bugging out about this discovery.)

Her hands flew to her hips. "If you're going to cheat on me, you shouldn't be so obvious about it," she spat before storming outside. Her accusation stung, but I forced myself to take a deep breath and mark my page in my book before calmly following her out to the boarding house awning.

"Do you really think I'd cheat on you?" I asked. "Have I messed up so badly that you think I'd actually be capable of it?"

Elena sniffled and shook her head. The tears on her cheeks shone when they caught the moonlight. "No."

I sat next to her. "You've been jumpy all day." It was more a question than a statement. I knew it wasn't her time of the month. I had that week entered in my phone calendar as Be Extra Nice to Elena week. Something else had to be wrong.

"I know. I'm sorry." She sighed. "I found out today that three of my classmates received job offers. They're with great organizations, too: The Atlantic and Random House Publishing and Dark Horse Comics. Any MFA candidate would dream of securing jobs at those companies."

"Are you jealous that you didn't get the offer?" I asked. "I don't remember you applying to those places."

"I didn't," she confirmed. "Between my three classes – four if you count teaching English 101, Donovan's Band, waiting for literary agents to get back to me about my novel, and spending time with you, I haven't had time to apply anywhere. And I don't want to give any of those things up, but I'm nervous that by the time I get around to applying to jobs, all of the good ones will be gone and I'll have to settle. I think I'm too young to settle, but I know that the job market is really difficult for writers so I'm trying to brace myself to not be picky and accept anything I'm offered."

"That's a lot to have on your mind, pretty girl."

Elena sighed. "I know, and I know I've been awful to you today. I'm so sorry I accused you of cheating on me. I know you would never do that, but I've been a little crazy ever since I found out about those job offers, and come on, couldn't you have found a less scandalizing name for whatever you're doing than 'Jenny – Secret'?"

"Probably, but then we wouldn't be having this fun venting session." I tossed my arm over her shoulders. "What can I do to help?"

"It's too early in our relationship for me to ask you this—"

"Elena, nothing about our relationship has been conventional. Try me."

She exhaled. "How long are you planning to stay at the University of Atlanta?"

"Assuming they don't fire me? At least until they promote me to Associate Professor, so probably another four-five years," I said. "History professorships are really difficult to come by these days, especially at such a strong program like U of A. I'd be an idiot to give mine up for anything other than a really, really, really good reason."

"Understandable."

"But," I brushed a strand of hair from Elena's face, "if you get a job offer in a city that's not Atlanta, I'll bombard every history department in that state with my CV. Especially if your offer is for Hawaii."

Elena giggled for the first time all day. "Hawaii would be nice."

"You in a bikini would be nice," I corrected. "If you want to wear one now, I'd be more than happy to turn up the heat in the boarding house."

"How generous of you," she teased.

"I'm a generous guy." I grinned at her. "But seriously, Elena? Apply to places where you'll be excited to go to work each day. Don't settle for a crappy job in Atlanta just because it'd be better for my career if you centered your job search here. Whatever you're offered, I promise that we'll make it work."

Elena crushed her mouth to mine. "I love you so much," she whispered against my lips. "And for the record, I'll have Bonnie cut off your balls with the sharpest knife Matt owns if you ever cheat on me."

I shuddered. "Noted."

(The mystery of "Jenny – Secret" was resolved on Valentine's Day when I took Elena to a swanky jazz club and showed her some of the moves that my swing instructor Jenny taught me during our weekly dance lessons. Elena forgave me for the calendar mishap once the jig was up.)

After her meltdown, Elena made it a priority to apply to a minimum of two jobs a week, the majority of them for editorial positions at various literary reviews, magazines, and publishing companies. She claims she doesn't have a preference between any of the thirty-plus places she's applied, but she's spent more time on The Chattahoochee Review and the Kennesaw Review's websites than any other this semester. I'm secretly rooting for both of those places to come through because they're Atlanta-based publications. Elena said that her professors put in a good word for her with the people they know at those reviews, but no one's contacted her yet as far as I know. I keep telling her that someone's going to call her any day and beg her to work for them, but my reassurance is only a temporary fix to the anxiety that clouds her eyes. When the clouds get too heavy, I keep her busy with back massages, weekend getaways to my family's lake cabin, and sex.

Lots and lots of sex. Elena and I can't keep our hands off each other. There's something insanely primal about my constant need for her. And the fact that she wants me as often as I want her? So. Fucking. Hot. I'm pretty sure we've defiled every horizontal and vertical surface in my office, my family's lake cabin, her apartment, and the boarding house. For the record, sex in the dungeon? Mind. Blowing. Sometimes we fuck to music, but I've also taught Elena that the "music" of our bodies is just as sexy of a soundtrack.

Anyways, Elena also spent a ton of time with her Donovan's Band friends this semester, which was cool with me because I understood the sanctity of girls' nights and band time. Caroline and Bennett wanted to kidnap Elena for a sleepover? Fine by me; I had guy's night with Ric and our colleagues at a bar. Sometimes Tyler and Donovan joined us. Donovan gradually warmed to me after my grand gesture on Christmas Eve. He and I shared an unspoken understanding that we had to be civil to one another because we were two of the three most important men in Elena's life. It also made Elena happy to see us acting like pals and swapping the occasional recipe, so I didn't mind playing nice with Donovan even though I liked her three other bandmates better. Caroline, Tyler, and Bennett always went out of their way to invite me to their group get-togethers like concerts, brewery tours, another No Show Karaoke night (I stumbled my way through Billy Joel's 'We Didn't Start the Fire' with Elena because it was about history), and simply shooting the shit at one of their places for hours at a time. Bennett likes to say that I'm the "sixth fucking member of the motherfucking band," which is only true if they're granting band membership based on how much time I've spent with them. They even came with me and Elena to my lake cabin for Spring Break. Christ, there were a lot of campfire sing-along's that week. Tyler and Donovan brought their guitars and Bennett brought a decidedly non-metal pair of bongos (she told me that bongos were "fucking hardcore" when I asked), and the five of them serenaded the woodland critters with their favorite songs underneath a starlit sky.

The majority of Donovan's Band group activities revolved around their gigs at the bar. They kicked ass every weekend, but my favorite shows of theirs were the themed nights. Caroline had the crazy idea to host a luau in the middle of January and convinced Donovan to dump a ton of sand on the bar floor, offer specials on island-themed cocktails, and crank up the heat so everyone could strip to their bathing suits and rock out to the band's summer-themed playlist. The band also played a set at Bree's Bar, and Bennett led a killer St. Patrick's Day gig filled with songs by The Dubliners, Dropkick Murphys, and Flogging Molly, but my favorite of their specialty shows was definitely the one where Elena and Elijah Mikealson shoved their instruments together and had a classy Dueling Pianos competition.

Holy hell, Elena has a voice that can stop a man at ten paces and bring him to his knees in five. She's still self-conscious about singing in public, but she obviously doesn't have a clue about her effect on her listeners. When she kicked off the Dueling Pianos night with Devil Doll's 'Bourbon in Your Eyes'? Even the unflappable Elijah's fingers waivered on his piano keys. Every person in that bar was bewitched by her honeyed bourbon vocals. Norah Jones? The White Stripes? Nirvana? Elena owned all of their music.

The other members of The Originals offered Elena various forms of compliments after the show. For Finn and Klaus, it was a head nod of approval. Kol gave her a wink, a kiss on the cheek that came too close to her mouth for my liking, and an invitation to come to his apartment so the two of them could "make beautiful music together".

Rebekah took a different approach.

"You sounded bloody congested during your pitiful attempts to sing Norah Jones," she sniffed, "but I suppose your other vocals were average."

Elena choked on her beer. "Wow, average? Thanks, Rebekah."

"Don't mention it." She flipped her blonde hair and strutted towards Donovan with a glint in her eye.

Elena, Elijah, and I watched her walk away with amused expressions. Elijah sighed. "I apologize for my sister's way with words, Elena. She can come across as harsh sometimes, but she means well."

Elena brushed him off with a wave of her beer bottle. "No worries, Elijah. Rebekah's always insisted that my skills are abysmal, so I'm proud to be considered average."

"You and your band are quite capable, Elena," Elijah countered. "It was a pleasure to play with you for the first and last time."

"The last time?" Elena repeated. "Why the last time?"

His lips quirked into a smile. "Tatia and I have decided that it would be in both of our best interests if I opened another practice in your nation's capital. I'm moving into her home at the end of the month."

"Congratulations!" Elena gushed. "That's so exciting! And so soon!"

"This move has been in the works for quite some time," Elijah said. "Rebekah and Niklaus aren't too happy with me at the moment, but I anticipate that they'll support my decision in due time."

"You're their brother. They'll come around," I said.

"Perhaps, but I'm sure you can perceive that Niklaus and Rebekah are very capable of holding grudges for petty reasons."

Elena turned to me. "Don't let me hold grudges against Caroline, Tyler, and Bonnie, okay?" She turned back to Elijah. "Bonnie's moving to Moscow this summer to be the Head Lab Technician at the Russian branch of her current job."

"How exciting," Elijah said. "I'm sure Tatia knows plenty of people your friend can contact. I'll ask her to pass along some names and email addresses. And Caroline and Tyler?"

"Caroline just accepted a position as the evening anchor at a small news station in St. Paul, Minnesota, and Tyler's going to move there with her," Elena explained. "They're leaving two days after graduation. Caroline's going to tell Klaus tonight."

Elijah sighed. "And this evening was going so well."

Sure enough, a loud "WHAT" sounded from the other side of the bar. The three of us saw Klaus standing in front of Caroline with a desperate look on his face. We couldn't hear a word of their conversation, but from the looks of it he insisted that she reconsider and she said no. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it, took a deep breath, and gave Caroline a hug hard enough to pop out her organs before he trudged out of Donovan's with defeat etched on his face.

"Between you and Caroline leaving, your brother's going to have crazy abandonment issues," I commented. Elena smacked me in the arm and told me to be nice because it hurts to be left behind, and she and I shared a look that was just as much about Klaus's hurt as it was about her friends moving on as it was about the way both of us felt abandoned after our families died or gave up on us. And yeah, part of me felt for Klaus because I used to be that guy who felt abandoned by the world. I knew how much it sucked. But I would gladly endure those hurt feelings all over again if I knew that Elena would be the shimmering light at the end of my tunnel.

I park in Elena's apartment parking lot and kiss her sleeping face. "We're here."

She stirs. "But we just left the airport."

I chuckle at how rumpled she looks. "Come on, Sleepy. Let's go inside."

We hike to her apartment where Donovan's sitting in front of the TV with a plate of homemade taquitos. I plop next to him and watch whatever crime investigation show he's watching as Elena brings her laptop to the living room. She signs into her email.

"Anything?" I ask. Between Caroline and Tyler's move tomorrow and Bonnie starting to pack for Moscow, Elena's been freaking out about her lack of job and publishing deal. After she turned in her final portfolio, she bumped up her job applications from two a week to two a day. If she's not following up with the places she already applied to, she's on the prowl for other jobs she thinks she'd like or publishing companies she wants to submit her novel.

"Anything?" I ask.

The despondent look on her face is the only answer Donovan and I need. He offers his plate to her. "Taquito?"

"Yes." Elena snatches one.

"Where's my offer?" I demand. Donovan rolls his eyes.

"Get your own food, old man."

Elena's all too quiet between the two of us. I sling my arm over her shoulders. "You're going to get an amazing job offer any day now. Don't worry."

"I can't help it," she grumbles. "Am I really that sucky of an applicant that no one wants me to work for them?"

"Shut up, you know you're amazing," Donovan retorts.

"Swedish Chef's right," I say, earning me another Donovan eye roll. "Knowing your luck, you're going to get a killer job the day a publisher begs to publish your novel. Then you're going to make more money than you know what to do with and I'll be able to abandon this professor thing for my new, full-time job as Elena Gilbert's kept man." I lower my voice. "I promise I'll work really hard to earn my keep."

Donovan scowls. "Dude, not while I'm eating."

"Just letting Elena know that she'll be taken care of, dude."

"Cut it out or I'll destroy both of you tonight," Elena cuts in. "You're going to receive a patented brand of Ripley whoop-ass."

Donovan laughs. "Is that a threat? Because I was going to team up with you and Rambo to give McManus #2 and The Bride a farewell they'll never forget, but I can add you to my list of enemies if you want."

As the two of them bicker back and forth, I steal Elena's laptop and open her Excel file that lists all of the places she's applied. I also open her separate spreadsheet that lists the publishing companies where she has or wants to submit her novel. Apparently she can only submit her novel to one company at a time, so she's already been rejected by Picador, Back Bay Books, and HarperCollins. She sent her novel to Simon & Schuester a little over a month ago, so I've got my fingers crossed that these people are going to be the ones who aren't idiots and will give Elena a chance to show the world how crazy-talented she is.

The three of us sit around and do our own thing for the next couple of hours. Donovan spends most of the time in his room making calls about the bar while Elena applies to a copyediting position at Avon Romance and I make progress on a book she recommended to me about the West Coast recording studio scene in the 1960s: The Wrecking Crew: The Inside Story About Rock and Roll's Best-Kept Secret. Music Through History was such a success that the department asked me to teach it again in the fall, so I'm trying to brush up on my music history knowledge.

After Elena receives texts from both her aunt and brother that they arrived safely at their destinations, she stands. "I'm going to get ready for tonight," she says. "We're leaving in thirty minutes, right?"

"Sounds good," Donovan calls through his door.

I'm confused. "What the hell do you need to get ready for?"

She smirks at me. "It's everyone for him or herself out there tonight, Damon. Gotta look sharp to play sharp."

"You're not going easy on me because it's my first time playing with everyone?" I pout. She shakes her head, gives me a deceptively coy look that turns my dick to stone, and saunters to her bedroom.

Well, now I can't concentrate on my book.

I read the same page for the next ten minutes when Elena's shriek fills the air. I bolt to her room. I force myself to be a good boyfriend and overlook the fact that she's wearing nothing but a tight black shirt and a matching pair of panties. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Tears well in her eyes as she points to her open laptop screen. I sit at her desk and look at the computer, expecting to learn that her favorite band's touring this summer or that a famous writer died. But no, her screen's open to her Gmail account...and to an email from Simon & Schuester.

From:
To: Elena Gilbert
Sent: Mon 05/13/2013 5:13PM
Subject: Gray

Dear Ms. Gilbert,

I recently reviewed a copy of your manuscript Gray and was impressed by the strength of your characters, your devotion to realistic historical detail, and your expressive tone of voice. On behalf of Simon & Schuester, I invite you to publish your novel through our company.

I have attached a publishing contract to this email. Please contact me if you have any questions.

Best,

Alma Alghasi
Associate Editor
Simon & Schuester

I look at Elena, who's shaking like a leaf. "I did it," she whispers.

My grin's about to split my face. "You did it!"

"I did it," Elena repeats, louder this time.

I scoop her in my arms and spin us around her room. "You're going to be a published writer!"

"I'm going to be a published writer!" she yells, and by that time Donovan's in the room and he reads the email and he's whooping and spinning around with the rest of us and I can overlook that Donovan's seeing Elena in her underwear because Elena's beaming and crying and I'm beaming and I'm so happy and proud and in awe of her that I could cry, but I don't because this is her moment and I'm determined to keep my waterworks in check so she can bask in her glory.

"I have so much to do!" she exclaims as she catches her breath. "I have to call Aunt Jenna and Jeremy, and I have to email my professors, and do you think they'd be willing to review my contract to tell me if I'm getting a good offer? Oh, and I need to talk to my agent because she knows the ins and outs of the business better than I do, and—"

"Elena." I grip her shoulders to steady her. "You just found out that one of the top publishing companies in the world wants your book. Put on some pants and get ready to celebrate tonight with your four favorite people...and Donovan."

He flips me the bird.

Elena's eyes dart between mine and the computer. "Are you sure? I don't want to leave a bad impression because I took too long to respond—"

"That contract's not going anywhere, Lena."

"Yep. No take-backs. It's your book contract." I crushed her in another hug. "Don't worry, I know you're having a moment so I'll take it easy on you tonight."

"Easy? Are you kidding?" Elena pushes out of my arms, sass blazing in her eyes. "Bring it on, Salvatore."

Donovan retreats to his room. Elena rummages through her drawers for a pair of pants, but I'm so high from her success that my hands and mouth can't get enough of her and I'm so close to coaxing her out of her clothes when Donovan bangs on her door and hollers that we've got to leave if we don't want Caroline's wrath to rain upon us. The three of us grin like a couple of clowns as we hop into my car; we're still grinning twenty minutes later when we walk into Laser City and see Caroline, Tyler, and a war paint-wearing Bennett waiting for us. Elena shares her good news, and there are squeals and hugs all around as we pay for our hour – yes, sixty minutes – of freaking laser tag.

As the others head into the holding area, Elena grabs my hand to stop me. I look at her. "What's up?"

"I know things have been crazy lately between graduation, everyone's moves, and my never-ending job and publisher search. But before things get even crazier in there," she gestures to the holding cell, "I need to thank you for everything you've done for me this year."

It's amazing how Elena can make Laser City feel like the most romantic place on Earth. "I hardly did anything," I protest. "You're the brains behind this operation, dearest."

"If I'm the brains, you're the bones," she says. "You're my biggest support. Every time I'm on the verge of freaking out and convincing myself that I can't do something or that I'm not good enough to be a writer, you're always there to pull me back from the edge and make me feel like I'm a superhero at life. And it's so rare to find people who make you feel bulletproof just by being in the same room as them."

The neon arcade lights accentuate the sudden blush on her cheeks. "And that was a really cheesy and inappropriately sentimental speech. Sorry."

"Hey." I kiss her hard in the middle of the room. So what if a ton of snot-nosed kids are pointing at us? "I like cheesy and inappropriately sentimental from you."

She grins. "Yeah?"

"To stick with the theme of cheesy and appropriately sentimental, you are, by far, the best thing that has and will ever happen to me. And no matter what happens with your job, book, or anything else you want from life, you've got me as long as you want me."

"Forever," she whispers.

"Forever," I echo. And then she throws her arms around my neck and kisses me so hard, I'm gasping for breath when she pulls away to a mixture of gasps from the kiddos and scoffs from the disgusted housewives and a really loud whistle from Randy from his front-row view to our show.

"I love you," I blurt.

"I love you, too."

She links her arm with mine. "Indiana Jones and I are ready, Randy."

I look at her as Randy unlocks the holding room doors. "I get a laser tag code name?" I can barely keep the delight from my voice.

"You're a part of the group, Dr. Jones." Her smile is blinding as she pretends to cock her laser gun. "Now, I don't know about you, but I'm ready to keep this date that you promised me five months ago. Shall we?"

There's nothing else I'd rather do.

Dearest Friends,

It's been a pleasure to share Bourbon in Your Eyes with you. Your encouraging words have nurtured me as a writer and as a person over the past sixteen months. I'm humbled to be part of such a supportive and passionate fandom.

Until next time,

Amy