the suitcases. Stefan gave him a casual nod of thanks.
They’d spent centuries as enemies. They’d killed each other, once. Hundreds of years of hating each other, bound together by misery, jealousy, and sorrow. Katherine had done that to them, trying to have them both when they each wanted only her.
Everything was different now. They’d come so far. Since Damon had died and come back, since they had battled and defeated the jealousy phantom, they’d come to be partners. There was an unspoken acknowledgment that they would work together to protect a little group of humans.
More than that, there was a cautious, but very real, affection between them. They relied on each other; they’d be sorry to lose each other again. They didn’t talk about it, but she knew it was true.
Elena squeezed her eyes shut for just a second. She knew they both loved her. They both knew that she loved them. Even though, her mind corrected conscientiously, Stefan is my true love. But something else in her, that imaginary panther, stretched and smiled. But Damon, my Damon…
She shook her head. She couldn’t break them apart, couldn’t let them fight over her. She wouldn’t do what Katherine had done. If the time came for her to choose, she would choose Stefan. Of course.
Would you? the panther purred lazily, and Elena tried to push the thought away.
Everything could fal apart so easily. And it was up to her to make sure that never happened again.
3
Bonnie fluffed her red curls as she hurried across Dalcrest’s great lawn. It was so pretty here. Little flagstone paths bordered the lawn, leading off to the various dorms and classroom buildings. Brightly colored flowers—
petunias, impatiens, daisies—were growing everywhere, by the sides of the path and in front of the buildings.
The human scenery was pretty awesome, too, Bonnie thought, surreptitiously eyeing a bronzed guy lying on a towel near the edge of the lawn. Not surreptitiously enough, though—the guy lifted his shaggy dark head and winked at her. Bonnie giggled and walked faster, her cheeks warm.
Honestly, shouldn’t he be unpacking or setting up his room or something? Not just lying around half naked and winking at passing girls like a big … flirt.
The bag of stuff Bonnie had bought in the campus bookstore clinked gently in her hand. Of course, she hadn’t been able to buy books yet, as they wouldn’t sign up for classes until the next day, but it turned out the bookstore sold everything. She’d gotten some great stuff: a Dalcrest mug, a teddy bear wearing its own cute little Dalcrest T-shirt, and a few things that would come in handy, like an efficiently organized shower caddy and a col ection of pens in every color of the rainbow. She had to admit she was pretty excited about starting col ege.
Bonnie shifted the bag to her left hand and flexed the cramping fingers of her right. Excited or not, al this stuff she’d bought was heavy.
But she needed it. This was her plan: she was going to become a new person at col ege. Not entirely new; she liked herself fine, for the most part. But she was going to become more of a leader, more mature, the kind of person who people said, “Ask Bonnie,” or “Trust Bonnie,” rather than, “Oh, Bonnie,” which was completely different.
She was determined to step out of the shadows of Meredith and Elena. They were both terrific, of course, her absolute best friends, but they didn’t even realize how terrifyingly in charge they were al the time. Bonnie wanted to become a terrific, ful y in-charge person in her own right.
Plus maybe she’d meet a real y special guy. That would be nice. Bonnie couldn’t actual y blame Meredith or Elena for the fact that al the way through high school, she’d had plenty of dates but no serious boyfriends. But the simple fact was that, even if everyone thought you were cute, if your two closest friends were gorgeous and smart and powerful, the kind of guy who was looking to fal in love might find you a little bit … fluffy … in comparison.
She had to admit, though, that she was relieved that she and Meredith and Elena were al living together. She might not want to be stuck in their shadows, but they were stil her best friends. And, after al …
Thud. Someone crashed into Bonnie’s side and she lost her train of thought completely. She staggered backward. A large male body lurched into her again, briefly crushing her face against his chest, and she tripped, fal ing against someone else’s side. There were guys al around her, shoving one another back and forth, joking around and arguing, paying no attention to her as she was jostled among them, until a strong hand suddenly steadied her in the midst of the turmoil.
By the time she found her feet, they were moving off again, five or six male bodies swiping and shoving at one another, not stopping to apologize, as if they hadn’t even noticed her as anything more than an inanimate obstacle in their path.
Except for one of them. Bonnie found herself staring at a worn blue T-shirt and a slim torso with wel -muscled arms.
She straightened up and smoothed her hair, and the hand gripping her arm let go.
“Are you al right?” a low voice asked.
I’d be better if you hadn’t almost knocked me down, Bonnie was about to say snippily. She was out of breath, and her bag was heavy, and this guy and his friends seriously needed to watch where they were going. Then she looked up, and her eyes met his.
Wow. The guy was gorgeous. His eyes were a clear, true blue, the blue of the sky at dawn on a summer morning.
His features were sharply cut, the eyebrows arched, the cheekbones high, but his mouth was soft and sensual. And she’d never seen hair quite that color before, except on the youngest kids, that pure white-blond that made her think of tropical beaches under a summer sky…
“Are you okay?” he repeated more loudly, a frown of concern crinkling his perfect forehead.
God. Bonnie could feel herself blushing right up to the roots of her hair. She had just been staring at him with her mouth open.
“I’m fine,” she said, trying to pul herself together. “I guess I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He grinned, and a tiny zing! shot right through Bonnie.
