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Silence.
Elena there’s a Plan B I want to try with Stefan, but I don’t know if you’ll be mad.
I’ll forget about it right now if you’ll be mad.
Nothing. Bonnie tried to think other colors and forms in her mind, to “change channels.” Sometimes it worked.
Elena, if I don’t hear from you I’m going to try it. I can’t think of anyone else that it might hurt, and it might do Stefan some good.
Still no “presence” from Elena.
Bonnie’s heart sank suddenly. Are you leaving this entirely up to me? That would be just like you and Meredith. You would say it would help me grow up to know what I want.
Silence all around her. No one present except herself and Stefan—alone together, as they said.
All right, then. I’m taking you all on. This is my responsibility, and only mine.
Which was all part of being a woman.
Stefan was watching her. He had seemed startled by her eagerness from the beginning, but probably putting it down to wanting to get it over with.
But now, with the door shut and locked behind him, he was watching her, with distinctly worried eyes. As she walked around the room and ended up on the worn, creaky old couch, his aura was burning a puzzled yellow. She wondered whether to feign nervousness, and then decided she didn’t have to feign it. She looked up at him, with her stillwet, stillcornflowerblue eyes at their widest.
Plan B was what the girls called a blitzkrieg plan.
“I tangled the tie of my windbreaker before, and now I can’t see to untie it,” she said.
And that’s the absolute truth! she thought. Yes, if you don’t ask exactly when ‘before’ was.
He untangled it, necessarily standing close to her. All boys were tall compared to Bonnie, but Stefan was just the right height for leaning her head against his shoulder, and so straight and slim and somehow pliant—like a ninja or a panther or something that had to be ready to move in any direction at once. And he smelled wonderfully good. That was one of the most important things to the deepest Bonnie: smell. And another, which he also had, was voice. Stefan was a virtuous knight, faithful to the memory of his Elena—but he also had a voice that could melt butter right out of the refrigerator.
Yes, we have no problems here. I’m attracted to him. But—could he ever be attracted to me?
Bonnie slid off her windbreaker, and then, watching Stefan under her eyelashes, undid the one big button of her jade green sweater, and began to pull it over her head.
Stefan—as expected—made an incoherent noise of protest. That was one advantage she had. She was a gabbler. She could talk the hind leg off an elephant given the chance, and Stefan was a polite listener who didn’t like to interrupt.
“It’s okay, silly, I’ve got another top on underneath it,” she said and finished shrugging the sweater off.
This was technically true. She had a camisole on underneath it; a very pretty cream colored one, with knots of ribbon and lace decorating the bodice. She usually wore it with a sweater when the weather could change suddenly and she could whip on a lighter top over it.
She just hoped that Stefan didn’t know enough about modern women’s underwear to recognize it as notexactlyoutdoorwear.
Especially when the only thing under the camisole was Bonnie.
It seemed that Elena had neglected this area of his education. Bonnie mentally wiped sweat off her forehead.
“It’s a pretty top,” Stefan said. “But the evenings are chilly up here—”
“It shouldn’t take long. And we’ll keep each other warm,” Bonnie said. Oh, Lord, had she just said that? From Stefan’s expression she had.
“Bonnie—it isn’t—”
He didn’t even stand a chance against lips that had kissed the Blarney Stone.
“I know it isn’t,” she said. “But before we—before you take my blood”—it was good to get that in here at the beginning, to remind him of the debt he owed her—“I was wondering if we could—just sit together for a minute or two. So I could get used to you.
That’s the problem with Damon. He just looms and then grabs, and there’s no question about what he wants and when he wants it.”
