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“I need them to get suspended. They can’t be at the dance tomorrow,” Elena told him. The kicker was moving back, his teammates lined up on either side. “Please, Damon,” she said.
Damon leaned back and smiled lazily at her. “Why should I?” His eyes were locked on hers, challenging her. “What will you give me?”
“Anything you want,” Elena said recklessly. “I trust you. Just do it.”
Damon’s smile widened, and he flicked his eyes back toward the field. The kicker’s foot made contact with the ball, and it flew in a high arc through the air.
With a shout of fury, Tyler Smallwood launched himself across the field and tackled Dick Carter to the ground.
The stands broke out in screaming excitement. Tyler was punching Dick in the stomach, avoiding his pads to reach the flesh beneath. Dick bucked and rolled, and Tyler hit the ground with a thud.
“Good enough?” Damon asked.
Down on the field, the referees were blowing hard on their whistles and running toward the fight. Both boys had pulled off their helmets, and, as Elena watched, Dick punched Tyler hard in the nose. Bright blood gushed out, drops spilling onto the grass of the football field.
“That should do it,” Elena said, feeling a little sick. But this was necessary. If Tyler and Dick went to the dance, if they left the dance and went to the graveyard, terrible things would happen.
This was the better option.
The coaches were shouting as the other players tried unsuccessfully to pull Dick and Tyler apart. Tyler lunged forward and sank his teeth into Dick’s arm. There was more blood, running over Tyler’s mouth. Damon was watching, his face lit with pleasure.
“Damon!” Elena said sharply. “That’s enough!”
“Killjoy,” Damon muttered, but he glared at the fighting boys, and they stilled, then pulled away from each other. Matt and one of the running backs were holding onto them, tugging them farther apart. Both boys looked dazed, and Tyler wiped at his mouth, smearing dark red blood across his face.
A chill spread through Elena. The pleasure Damon took in watching the guys fight was something she hadn’t seen in years. As comfortable as she felt with him, she still needed to be careful.
Down on the field, Stefan was paying no attention to the aftermath of the fight going on all around him. Instead, he was scanning the stands, his eyes narrowed. He must be looking for Damon, Elena realized. Of course Stefan would suspect Damon was behind the fight.
Before Stefan could spot them, the referees called the teams back into place. Two second-string players ran out to take Tyler and Dick’s places, and the game began at last.
Elena was surprised at how much she enjoyed it. She had been to football games before, of course she had. But usually, what was going on in the stands had interested her more than what might be happening on the field. Even when she was dating Matt, she hadn’t really watched him play.
He was really good. Matt and Stefan made an incredible team, but Stefan had the strength, speed, and reflexes of a vampire. Matt was managing on pure skill. Calm and confident, he called the plays, his eyes scanning the field. He ran like the wind, and when he passed the ball downfield, it was in a long spiraling arc that landed safely in Stefan’s hands. No wonder he had been—was going to be—offered football scholarships.
Damon watched the crowd far more than he did the game, although his eyes regularly flitted back to Stefan. When he looked at his brother, he wore an expression that Elena couldn’t quite decipher. Was this hostile face the one Damon had worn all those centuries, as he kept a distant eye on his little brother, his enemy?
At halftime, Damon bought Elena a cup of hot chocolate.
“Thank you,” she said, pleased at his thoughtfulness, and wrapped her fingers around the warmth of the cup. It was getting chilly. Fall had really set in now.
“May I?” Damon asked politely, after he’d watched her take a sip. She handed over the hot chocolate, and he drank slowly, savoring. “Very nice,” he said. “Sweet.” His fingers lingered on hers for a moment longer than necessary as he passed the cup back to her. Damon’s words were innocent enough, but there was something darkly teasing in his gaze. Attraction hummed between them. Maybe he wasn’t her Damon yet, but he would be.
When they got back to Elena’s house after the game, the driveway was empty.
“Aunt Judith must have taken Margaret somewhere,” Elena told Damon.
Damon tipped his head slightly to one side, clearly sending out his Power to search the house. “There’s no one home.”
“Mmmhmm.” Elena unlocked the door and stepped inside. Damon waited on the porch, his hands in his jacket pockets, casual and confident. Elena didn’t hesitate. If she wanted Damon to be trustworthy, first she had to trust him. “You can come in if you want,” she said. “The invitation still stands.”
“If you want me,” Damon said cooly, but there was a pleased tilt to his mouth as he followed her in.
Elena led Damon through the house. In the hall, he paused, running his fingers across the photographs on the side table. “Your mother?” he asked, picking one up to look at it more closely.
Elena nodded, her throat tight. Damon kept touching things as he followed her through the house, brushing his fingers over the furniture and opening drawers to look inside. Up in her room, he prowled like a cat, inspecting the books on Elena’s bookcase, rifling through the clothes in her closet, delicately rearranging the objects on her dresser. It was as if he was trying to figure her out.
Finally, he put down her silver comb and turned to look at her. “Why did you want them to fight?” he asked, his voice dry. “It’s not for love, is it?”
