L. Smith - Moonsong

She didn’t real y like the way he was pul ing Bonnie close, turning her head toward him, his hands running restlessly over her shoulders even as he talked over her head to his friends. It seemed real y possessive for a guy who hadn’t even kissed her yet. Elena looked over at Meredith to see if she was thinking the same thing.

Meredith was listening, with an amused smile, to the guy next to her—Marcus, she thought his name was—Zander’s friend with the shaggy brown hair, explaining his weight-lifting routine.

“Shots,” another friend of Zander’s said succinctly, joining them with a tray ful of shot glasses. “Let’s play quarters.”

Bonnie giggled. “They’re not al owed to serve us here.

We’re underage.”

The guy grinned. “S’alright. I paid for them, not you.”

“Wanna dance?” Spencer, the one who had asked Elena a minute before, said again, asking Samantha this time.

“Sure!” she said, and jumped to her feet. The two were quickly lost in the crowd on the dance floor.

“God, I was so drunk last night,” the guy next to Elena, Jared, said, tipping his chair back on two legs and regarding her cheerful y. His friend on his other side gazed at him for a minute, then poured a shot into his lap.

“Hey!” In a moment, they were on their feet and shoving each other, the guy who had poured the drink laughing, Jared red-faced and angry.

“Knock it off, you guys,” Zander said. “I don’t want to get kicked out of here, too.”

Too? Elena raised her eyebrows. This guy and his friends were definitely too wild for innocent little Bonnie.

Elena looked at Meredith again for confirmation, but she was stil lost in jock world, now giving her opinion on the best weight training for martial arts.

Bonnie squealed with laughter and bounced a quarter directly into one of the shot glasses. Al the guys cheered.

“Now what?” she said breathlessly, her eyes bright.

“Now you choose someone to drink it,” the guy who had brought the drinks said.

“Zander, of course,” Bonnie said, and Zander gave her a long, slow smile that even Elena had to admit was devastating and drank, then winked at her as she laughed again.

Bonnie looked … real y happy. Elena couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her laughing like this.

It must have been at least a year ago, before things had gone crazy in Fel ’s Church.

Elena sighed and looked around the table. These guys were rowdy—tussling and shoving at one another—but they were friendly enough. And this was the kind of thing people did at col ege, wasn’t it? If it made Bonnie happy, Elena ought to at least try to get along with them.

Samantha and Spencer came back to the table, both laughing, and Samantha col apsed in her seat. “No more,” she said, raising her hands to fend him off. “I need a water break. You’re a madman, you know that?”

“Wil you come dance with me, then?” Spencer said pleadingly to Elena, widening big brown puppy-dog eyes at her.

“He’l try to pick you up,” Samantha warned. “And dip you. And spin you around. But don’t worry, I’l be back out on that floor in no time.”

“Pretty please?” Spencer said, making an even more pathetic face.

Bonnie laughed triumphantly as she bounced another quarter into the glass.

Dancing with a group of friends isn’t betraying anyone, Elena thought. Besides, she was single now. Sort of, anyway. She should try to enjoy col ege, to embrace life.

Wasn’t that the whole point of tonight? She shrugged.

“Sure, why not?”

16

When Stefan walked by Elena’s room again, the daisy was gone, and the subtle scent of her citrusy shampoo lingered in the hal way.

No doubt she was out with Meredith and Bonnie, and he could depend upon Meredith to protect her. He wondered if Damon was watching them, if he’d approach Elena. A bitter strand of envy curled in Stefan’s stomach. It was hard being the good one sometimes, the one who would abide by the rules, while Damon did whatever he wanted.

He leaned back against the door to Elena’s room.

There was a window across the hal , and as he watched the cold crescent of the moon sailing high in the sky, he thought of his silent room, of the books of economics and philosophy waiting for him.

No. He wasn’t going back there. He couldn’t be with Elena, but he didn’t have to be alone.

Outside, there was a chil in the air for the first time since school had started; the sultry heat of a Virginia summer was final y giving way to autumn. Stefan hunched his shoulders and tucked his hands into his jeans pockets.

Not real y knowing where he was going, Stefan headed off campus. Vague thoughts of hunting in the woods crossed his mind, but he wasn’t hungry, just restless, and he turned away from the trail that led that way. Instead he wandered the streets of the smal town around the col ege.

There wasn’t much to do. There were a few bars hopping with col ege kids and a couple of restaurants, already closed up. Stefan couldn’t imagine wanting to press into a hot and crowded bar right now. He wanted to be around people, maybe, but not too many, not too close, not close enough to sense the thrum of blood beneath their skins. When he was unhappy, like tonight, he could feel something hard and dangerous rising up inside him, and he knew he needed to be careful of the monster he carried within him.

He turned down another block, listening to the soft pad of his own steps against the sidewalk. Near the end of the street, a faint thud of music came from a dilapidated building whose buzzing neon sign read EDDIE’S BILLIARDS.

None of the few cars in the parking lot had a Dalcrest parking sticker. Clearly a townie spot, not a student one.

If Stefan hadn’t had this burning, angry loneliness inside him, he wouldn’t have gone in. He looked like a student—

he was a student—and this didn’t look like a place that welcomed students. But the ugly thing inside him stirred at the thought of maybe having a reason to throw a punch or two.

Inside, it was wel lit but dingy, the air thick and blue with smoke. An old rock song was playing on a jukebox in the corner. Six pool tables sat in the middle of the room, with smal round tables around the sides, and a bar at the far end. Two of the pool tables and a few of the round tables were occupied by locals, who let their eyes drift over him neutral y and then turned away.

At the bar, Stefan saw a familiar back, a sleek dark head. Even though he’d been sure Damon would be fol owing Elena, he wasn’t surprised to see him. Stefan had reined his Power in, concentrating on his own misery, but he’d always been able to sense his brother. If he had thought about it, he would have known Damon was there.

Damon, equal y unsurprised, turned and tipped his glass to Stefan with a wry little grin. Stefan went over to join him.

“Hel o, little brother,” Damon said softly when Stefan sat down. “Shouldn’t you be holed up somewhere, crying over your loss of the lovely Elena?”

Stefan sighed and slumped on the barstool. Propping his elbows on the bar, he rested his head on his hands.

Suddenly, he was terribly tired. “Let’s not talk about Elena,” he said. “I don’t want to fight with you, Damon.”

“Then don’t.” Patting him lightly on the shoulder, Damon was up and out of his seat. “Let’s play some pool.” One thing about living for hundreds of years, Stefan knew, was that you had time to get real y good at things.

Versions of bil iards had been around as long as he and Damon had, although he liked the modern version best—he liked the smel of the chalk and the squeak of the leather tip on the cue.

Damon’s thoughts seemed to be running on the same track. “Remember when we were kids and we used to play bil iart on the lawns of Father’s palazzo?” he asked as he racked up the bal s.