Crash Into You | Closed
What the actual fuck was she thinking? It wasn’t the first time she’d asked that question. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time she’d asked that question today. But this time she genuinely wondered if she’d ever be able to rationalize why she agreed to be the wedding date of a drunken stranger. Though truth be told, her reservations had little to do with Damon. He was hurt, the girl he’d wanted tossed him aside for his brother and now he was expected to sit in the aisle and tear up over their vows. Who wouldn’t hit a bar and drown their sorrows? But Damon was what she’d come to call temporarily broken. Like one of those old fashioned push puppets. His bitch of an ex had pushed the button, and right now he was in pieces, held together by nothing but a thin string. But when the wedding was over and the girl set to her new life’s mission of mind fucking his brother, she’d take her finger off the button and in no time he’d be back together. Though he probably couldn’t see it, Katherine Pierce wouldn’t define him. She wasn’t good enough to. No, she asked the question because of herself. She was barely keeping together as she followed the same rigid schedule day in and day out. It only worked because she didn’t have to think. Autopilot was keeping her alive. Veering off course was probably going to prove comparable to a suicide mission. Well...in that case, maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Standing in front of the cracked floor length mirror that had been propped up in the ‘employee lounge’ (a musty back room that she strongly suspected had once been a closet), she studied her reflection for a few moments. This was the first time since the funeral she’d donned anything but her usual work attire and she wasn’t sure whether it was refreshing or unnerving. She’d dug the little black dress out of her closet Luke had insisted she buy a few years before; a sleeveless knee length with a lace back and plunging neckline. She could almost hear Carol Lockwood’s eyebrows raising. She, on the other hand, didn’t give a shit if people talked. Chances were Damon was the only person in the place she’d ever see again. After grabbing her clutch and locking up, she headed outside to wait for Damon to arrive. A more well adapted person might have offered an actual address, but the idea of letting anyone that far in, letting them see the one place where she didn’t have to pretend was too painful to even consider. If Damon found it odd that she asked to be picked up at the bar he’d given no indication. Maybe he was just more gracious than she gave him credit for. The wait wasn’t a long one. He pulled up right on the hour in a Camero that looked like the kind of car every man holds on to with their cold, dead hands. Her lips curved slightly at the sight of the flowers in his hand and the somewhat nervous explanation that came with them. Normal though the whole situation wasn’t...a small flutter of warmth flickered in her chest at his thoughtfulness, “Who am I to turn down flowers? If it comes with a complementary steady supply of drinks the minute the wedding toasts start, you’ll definitely be a shoe-in for my favorite wedding date.” Taking the flowers from him, she lifted them to inhale their sweet fragrance. She’d never exactly been the flowers and chocolates kind of girl, but she had to admit it was kind of nice to have someone around who actually wanted her to enjoy herself. “Thank you, they’re beautiful.” she murmured after a moment, her gaze traveling from the bright petals to his. He cleaned up better than she thought he would have. There had been no denying Damon’s attractiveness when he sauntered into the bar, but there was a substantial difference between leather clad, I-don’t-give-a-fuck guy and the man standing in front of her. It made her wonder (again) why this Katherine chick had so easily pushed him aside. Even at his worse, Damon had been kinder to her than half her family had for her entire life. Maybe it was just safe to assume the girl was a fucking idiot. “You clean up pretty well,” she commented, her tone almost shy, as she walked with him to the car. Compliments sounded so strange. It had been so long since she’d even let herself notice someone else...and a part of her still felt like she was betraying his memory by doing so. But if anyone was worthy of breaking her norms, she guessed it was him. As weird as this night might be for her...she couldn’t imagine how hard it was going to be for him. Sliding into the passenger’s seat, she laid the flowers across her lap before buckling in. She wondered as Damon climbed in beside her if he’d made any peace with this wedding (and all that came with it), or if he was just really good at keeping up a civil front. It was hard not to admire, if their roles were reversed, she wasn’t sure she could have even made it into the damn car. Not wanting to broach that subject just yet, she went for a safer subject. “Let me guess, this car is your adopted child?” There was a teasing glint in her eyes when she turned towards him, but admittedly she could see why if it was true. It was a gorgeous car. The kind of car that gives you ideas before you even let yourself admit you might want them. Shit. @ourpyrrhicvictory
