Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Fresh Meat
September 7th, 2009 (Monday)
Blood—
A monstrous face—
Blue eyes swallowed by black—
Sharp Teeth—
Blair Gilbert bolted upright in bed, heart racing, the remnants of a nightmare still clinging to her. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand. 6:10 AM. She'd missed her morning run.
She never missed her morning run. Not in the rain, not in the snow, not ever. She would only forgo it on a Sunday morning for her usual two-hours swimming practice. She could already feel her boobs sagging and the cellulite creeping in. (Yes, she was being dramatic. No, she didn't care.)
"Shit." She threw the covers off and swung her legs out of bed. She shouldn't have stayed up reading Jonathan Gilbert's journal from 1865. Those tales of vampires had messed with her head. And yet, it had been so damn fascinating. Terrifying but fascinating.
Thankfully Elena never got up earlier than a quarter to seven, because if her sister saw her right now—frantic and sleep-deprived—Blair would never live it down.
She stripped off her silk and lace nightgown—because even at night, Blair wanted to feel sexy—and then her bra. She didn't wear panties to bed but she did wear a wireless lace bra, because she had really big boobs and she was not going to have them sagging by age thirty.
Under the hot spray of the shower, she tried to ignore the creeping panic of a disrupted routine. Blair followed her routines with almost religious diligence and she hated going off-script.
It was how she kept order in her life and order meant control, and control wasn't simply important to Blair, it was essential. Without it, she felt like something inside her might slip its leash, something she couldn't afford to let loose.
On a normal day, her mornings ran like clockwork. Up at five. An hour running through the woods, back by six. The run was necessary, and not just because of vanity. Her body ran hot and restless. It always had, ever since she was a child prone to surges of energy and bursts of rage she couldn't explain, aggressiveness and hyperactivity that her parents had managed with patience she hadn't deserved.
Her father had been the one to explain why she was the way she was when she was eight and had taught her how to manage her condition. The werewolf gene, passed down through his side of the family—the Carsons, his mother's bloodline. Grayson Gilbert had carried it his entire life without ever triggering the curse, and so would Blair if she had anything to say about it. But the gene still made its presence known, hence the need for constant physical output just to function like a normal person.
Running helped. So did cheerleading, swimming and kickboxing. Sex helped too; that was her preferred method, frankly, but it wasn't available at five in the morning on a school day.
She could already feel the difference, a buzzing under her skin, an electric current with nowhere to go.
At least her nighttime routine had gone according to plan. Every night was the same choreography: gym after dark—one hour of cardio, one of kickboxing. (The owner knew her; she'd been doing kickboxing there since she was five, and he let her use the place after hours with her own key.) Then home for a long, half-hour soak in the tub, followed by three hours of studying. Then the nighttime skincare: double cleanser, toner, essence, beauty water, eye cream, moisturizer or night cream for her face; moisturizing lotion for the body, plus waxing twice a week including a full Brazilian, because she was the kind of fastidious person who hated body hair. She would then do a mani-pedi, prepare her schoolbag, choose the outfit for the next day, and then drink chamomile tea with milk (no sugar) before going to bed.
And then she would masturbate. For about half an hour, sometimes with her hand, more often with toys from the third drawer of her bedside table. It depended on how horny she was or whether she'd had sex that day. She wouldn't think about anything in particular, letting her mind go blank. In a way it was almost like meditating, except with orgasms. It relaxed her, helped her sleep more deeply. Luckily, since she suffered from Short Sleeper Syndrome, she didn't need more than five or six hours of sleep every night.
But this morning, the nightmares had thrown everything off. She would do an extra half-hour at the gym tonight to compensate for the missed run. That would fix things. It had to.
Blair's morning rituals after her run were usually a precise affair. Dry-brush her whole body, shower with body cleanser (exfoliating three times a week), wash and blow-dry her hair every other day using an indecent number of products because her hair—neither straight nor curly—had the unfortunate tendency to frizz at the slightest humidity. Moisturizing lotion everywhere until her skin was as smooth as a newborn's. Then the face: cleanser, toner, spot cream, exfoliator twice a week, serum, eye cream, moisturizer, oil, sunscreen, lip scrub three times a week, lip balm. Then makeup: primer, foundation, concealer, powder, bronzer, blusher, eyeshadow, eyeliner, mascara, brows. Dressed by 6:45. Then breakfast—a cup of green tea (never coffee, she was hyperactive and jittery enough without it), Greek yogurt, two slices of whole wheat toast with peanut butter, and an apple or a banana—and out the door by seven to pick up Caroline.
This morning, she did it all in thirty-five minutes flat. The flat iron was a necessary evil—she disapproved of it, it would ruin her hair in the long run—and she needed an extra layer of concealer to cover the shadows under her eyes. But by a quarter to seven, she looked as perfect as any other day.
She checked herself in the mirror one final time. Her outfit: a red wrap crop top with a low V-neck, high-waisted pleated mini skirt in black denim, black plateau pumps, leather jacket. Red lace bra underneath, matching thong.
While Elena's style was girl-next-door, Caroline's was cute and pink like a Barbie, and Bonnie's was... well, Blair wasn't exactly sure what Bonnie's style was—'just got out of bed and wore the first thing I saw', probably—Blair's style was more what she privately called sophisticated slut. Not trashy-trailer-slut like Vicki Donovan (was she being a bitch? yes, but Vicki had been strutting around all summer acting like Tyler had chosen her over Blair, which was getting on her last nerve). More like... seductive and provocative.
Nothing too exaggerated—no thongs peeking out of jeans or white see-through pants, because that was gross, not sexy. But her skirts were always mini-skirts (often high-waisted), her tops either slightly sheer, low-cut, or very tight (or all three), often showing her midriff but never her belly button, which was always covered. Shorts and stockings, skinny jeans, short casual dresses, leather jackets, and heels—always heels. You couldn't be intimidating in flats. Also, her legs and butt looked incredible in heels.
At 6:50, she descended the stairs. She was behind schedule—the wrongness of it itched.
Aunt Jo was in the kitchen, sipping coffee with a faraway look in her blue eyes. Josette—Jo—Laughlin was her mother's half-sister, younger than Miranda Gilbert by two years, both of them Joshua Parker's daughters, though by different mothers. Jo, like her mother, was a witch from the Gemini Coven, but she'd given up her magic years ago after what happened with Kai.
Nobody liked to talk about Kai. He was the Parker family's boogeyman and for good reason.
After the accident that killed her parents, Jo had moved to Mystic Falls to take care of her nieces, transferring from Whitmore Hospital to the one in Mystic Falls where she now worked as a doctor as well as taking over what had been Blair's father's clinic.
"Morning, Aunt Jo."
"Morning, Blair. Aren't you behind on your usual schedule today?"
"A little." Blair put two slices of bread in the toaster, took the yogurt from the fridge, and ate standing up. She'd eat her apple in the car.
"Ready for the first day? Nervous?"
"I don't get nervous, Aunt Jo," Blair replied in a flat tone.
Jo rolled her eyes in dramatic fashion. "Of course you don't. Ah, to be popular and in high school again."
"Funny you'd say that, because I can't wait to finish high school and get out of this town. There must be more to life than Mystic Falls, right?"
"So people say. Sometimes I'm not so sure." Jo sighed, then changed subjects. "You're going to see Tyler again today, with Vicki. They're not even hiding it anymore. Are you going to be okay?"
Blair rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you believe the rumor Tyler spread? He didn't cheat. I dumped him, and then he slept with Vicki to get back at me."
Jo furrowed her brows. "I thought you really liked him. Why would you break up with him?"
Blair shrugged. "I did like him. But he told me he loved me, and I didn't feel the same way. So I ended it."
The joke was on her for trying to be kind about it—giving him a clean break instead of stringing him along. Being nice didn't suit her. She should really stop trying.
"Blair." Jo set down her coffee. "Sooner or later, you'll have to stop running."
"Running? Who's running?"
"You are. You're running from love—from even the possibility of it. Every time a relationship gets the slightest bit serious, you crash it. Maybe Tyler wasn't the One, but it's a pattern with you."
Irritation pricked at her skin. She felt defensive but didn't want to admit it. "So, what? I'm supposed to be like Elena, who strung along poor Matt Donovan for months even though she clearly wasn't as into him as he was into her? Is that it?"
Elena's indecisiveness had always driven Blair crazy. Blair always knew exactly what she wanted, and she couldn't wrap her head around how her sister let the fear of hurting others paralyze her and stop her from making decisions at all.
Blair loved her sister—deep, deep down—but their relationship had never been easy. There were only two possible outcomes when two girls barely ten months apart were forced to grow up in the same house: they'd become best friends, or they'd clash terribly. Blair and Elena had chosen option two.
They were the kind of sisters that would constantly bicker with each other, the kind that would compete with each other for everything and could never agree on anything.
"No. I just wish you'd be more open to the idea of falling in love—and yes, getting your heart broken, because that's part of the deal. You're young. You're supposed to fall in and out of love every other week. I just want you to be happy."
"I am happy. And I'm having fun. What's wrong with that?"
Jo raised her hands. "Okay, parenting time over. Just as long as you're careful—"
"I'm always careful. I have no intention of getting pregnant and ruining my life. I'm not stupid."
"No, you're not. I know that."
Blair fiddled with the pendant around her neck—a small, warm thing filled with the magic her mother and grandmother had stored inside it. Without it, Blair was a rather poor excuse for a witch. A siphoner, her mother had called her—a witch born without her own magic, able to use it only by drawing from an outside source. She could technically siphon the magic of her own werewolf gene, but her mother had warned her that was dangerous. Possibly fatal. The pendant was safer, a lifeline Miranda had given her, along with everything else she'd taught her about magic—their thing, their secret. No Elena allowed.
Elena, who didn't know about any of it. Not the werewolf gene, not the witchcraft, not the vampires and the council their father had been part of. Blair sometimes wondered if their parents would have told her eventually, the way they'd told Blair.
It didn't matter now. They were dead.
Blair studied the rim of her cup, then rolled her eyes at herself and said, "If I haven't said it before, I'll say it now. Thank you for being here. Upending your life to take care of us. Maybe we don't always show it—maybe I don't always show it, Elena's trying a little too hard—but we're grateful. You know that, right?"
Jo smiled. "I know. And it's not a sacrifice for me, believe me."
Blair shrugged, uncomfortable with having shown that much. "Yeah, well. Thanks anyway." She checked the time—more as an excuse to escape the mushiness than genuine concern—and said, "Gotta go. Care must be waiting."
At ten past seven, Blair was driving to Caroline's house, biting into her apple with one hand on the wheel.
Caroline Forbes had been her best friend since kindergarten, since the day she'd shared her hot pink box of crayons with Blair, and Blair had gone home and demanded her mother buy her the exact same box, but green like her eyes. There wasn't much Blair had asked for and not received. Her parents had spoiled her, she knew. The fact that they could afford to didn't hurt. The Gilberts, like all the other Founding Families of Mystic Falls, were practically royalty in this town—and among the wealthiest. Nobody was as rich as the Lockwoods, but the Gilberts came close.
Caroline climbed into Blair's car and immediately commented on the fact that Blair was a few minutes late—teasing, since Blair was a stickler for punctuality.
"Guess what?" Caroline said, all bright smile and bouncing energy.
"What? Did you find me a new boyfriend?" Blair sent her a smirk. "I need to show the school I'm completely over Tyler—which I am, obviously. But you know how people are. Even my aunt believed his stupid rumor."
Caroline shrugged. "If you want me to help you find a new boyfriend, I will. But my news is that Dad bought me a car, since he didn't get me one for my sweet sixteen. I guess he's trying to make up for divorcing Mom and leaving town with another man. Which I'm totally cool with—I just wish he'd stayed here. But Mom would never have allowed it. I mean, I get it, you're pissed and hurt and whatever, but he's still my dad and I want him here."
"Care—"
"But!" Caroline brightened, pushing past it the way she always did. "Back to the car. I can drive you around now too. How cool is that? And about the boyfriend thing—what about Matt? He's cute, he's sweet, he's a quarterback and he's popular. And he's, conveniently, Tyler's best friend. Perfect revenge material, right? Elena broke up with him last summer. He's not off-limits anymore."
Blair grimaced. "Donovan? No way. First of all, he's still mooning over my sister, the poor idiot. And second, even if he wasn't, I don't want Elena's sloppy seconds."
"That's not very nice."
Blair raised an eyebrow.
Caroline giggled. "Sorry, forgot who I was talking to for a second."
"Anyway, Matt is so... vanilla. Elena was his first, did you know? And he was hers. Our little Miss Perfect was a virgin until last year. He looks like the missionary type. I bet that's one of the reasons Elena broke up with him. My sister may look like a good girl, but she has an adventurous side. I bet she likes a little spice in her meals if you know what I mean." Blair's smirk widened. "Didn't you ever wonder why I stayed with Tyler for so long? He's an asshole, but the sex was great. Really great. I trained him well. Alas, I got bored of his clinginess, possessiveness, and daddy issues." She finished with a theatrical shiver.
Caroline giggled again. "I wouldn't mind a ride with Matt. At least I know he'd treat me right."
"If you want him, go for it. I'd be bored with him in a day. No, what I need is fresh meat. But this is Mystic Falls. Who is ever going to move here voluntarily?"
Caroline nodded along. "So true."
"Like I was expecting," Blair sighed, surveying the school hallway with Caroline at her side. Boys looked at them as they passed. Blair ignored every one of them. They weren't worth her time. "Too many pretty girls and too few hot guys. Tragic. How am I going to find a revenge boy toy here? Maybe I should rethink your Matt suggestion."
Caroline grinned. "You don't really mean that."
"No, I don't. Matt's much more your type than mine. You know I have a thing for the bad boys."
"That you do. Luckily, there's not one guy in this school who wouldn't jump at the chance to be with you. Some teachers I won't name included. Just pick one."
"Speaking of said teacher..." Blair said contemplatively. "Maybe I should give him a chance. He's not bad-looking, he's older—meaning experienced—and the whole forbidden thing could be exciting."
"I thought the whole point was to show off in front of Tyler. With him, you won't be able to."
"True. I wasn't serious anyway."
"Hey look—there's Elena and Bonnie." Caroline pointed down the hall where her sister and Bonnie Bennett had just crossed the school entrance. Bonnie was Elena's best friend and Blair's friend by proximity and habit. She was a little too judgmental for Blair's tastes, but she was fine in small doses.
"How is she, anyway?" Caroline asked.
Blair snorted. Elena was wearing the performative smile she'd been perfecting for the last two weeks. "She's Elena. She spent the entire summer locked in her room crying before snapping out it two weeks ago and starting to pretend to be 'fine, thank you'. She's got the whole martyr thing going, wandering through Mystic Falls Cemetery, writing in her diary and talking to our dead parents. So... I'd say not good at all."
When their parents had died—drowned when their car went off Wickery Bridge four months ago—Blair hadn't reacted the way people expected. Instead of grieving, she'd kept on living as if nothing had happened. If Elena had locked herself in her room, Blair had locked herself out. She'd filled every waking hour of the summer with as many activities as she could: volunteer work, tutoring, Founders' events, cheerleading, swimming, a summer job as a shop clerk at her favorite boutique in Mystic Falls—anything to keep busy, so there was no room left for grief. And then, at least three times a week, she'd sneak out her bedroom window and take the night shuttle to a club in Charlottesville, where—armed with a fake ID—she'd spend hours dancing, drinking, getting high, and having sex with strangers in public bathrooms or the dark corners of the dance floor. (Always protected sex. She wasn't stupid.) She'd come home in the early hours of the morning, so exhausted she'd collapse into sleep the second her head hit the pillow.
Not even Caroline knew. Nobody did. Blair was good at compartmentalizing—at wearing one face in public and burying everything else so deep it might as well not exist.
She knew Elena would alternate between worrying that Blair hadn't broken down crying at their parents' funeral—not a single tear, not one—and resenting her for seemingly not caring. But there was something inside Blair that screamed if she gave in to her emotions, it would make things worse. That wearing her heart on her sleeve was dangerous. That it made her weak, something others could use against her.
Instead, she'd found other methods to cope. Maybe they weren't the healthiest ones, but they worked. She felt less like she was drowning now and more like she was short of breath.
Caroline grimaced. "She didn't work on the cheer routines at all this summer. She's going to be a disaster."
"We'll put her in the back. If she doesn't drop cheerleading altogether."
"You think she would?"
"I think we should plan for it. Hold tryouts soon. The football season's about to start. Maybe this year we could have a chance at Nationals."
"You think we're ready?"
"With work. Our routines looked strong this summer. Luckily Elena's not a flyer. That'd be harder to replace on short notice."
Blair was already reshuffling formations in her head. Between cheerleading practice every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday from 3 to 4:30 PM, debate on Tuesday and Thursday from 3 to 4 PM, swimming right after from 4:30 to 6:30 PM, and then cheerleading again Saturday morning from 10 to 12 AM and swimming every Sunday from 10 to 12 AM—plus volunteer work on Sunday afternoons to boost her college credits—her schedule was packed tight. She still managed to study, at least, 15 hours a week though, which was more than enough for her to excel in all her classes.
"I think I'll go talk to them," Caroline said, nodding toward Elena and Bonnie.
"You go ahead. I have some flirting to do this morning." Blair's smile turned sharp. "It's become our tradition since freshman year."
Caroline giggled. "I bet. Think he's just waiting for you to finish high school to make a move?"
"Probably. Catch you later."
"Have fun!"
Blair walked away to the sound of Caroline's laughter. It was good to be back.
Back to normal—not the pretend-normal she'd been performing all summer, but real normal. She was going to be the same straight-A student she'd always been. In two years, she'd make valedictorian. Then Harvard where she'd become a history major and attend law school before joining a prestigious firm in New York, and hopefully make partner before the age of thirty-five. That had been the plan since she was ten years old and watched Legally Blonde for the first time. She wanted to be Elle Woods, but without the pink. (Pink was more Caroline's color anyway.)
Nobody would interfere with her plan. Not even herself.
She checked her makeup in the hand mirror she kept in her bag—making sure her red lipstick hadn't smudged on her teeth—mussed her hair for more volume (stupid flat iron; her hair was practically stuck to her face, she could've been Elena), and rearranged her top to show a little more cleavage. Satisfied at last, she knocked on the door of the history classroom.
Mr. Tanner's interest in her had been obvious since freshman year. She'd been fending off this kind of attention from men since she was twelve and her body started drawing eyes it had no business drawing at that age. She'd learned not to be a victim of it—instead, she'd turned it into leverage. A little teasing, a little flirting, and Tanner gave her preferential treatment, extra credit opportunities, the best recommendations. Was it appropriate? God, no. But Blair was pragmatic. After all, he would have lusted after her anyway, might as well use it to her advantage.
Tanner's smile when he saw her was blinding. He rose to his feet like they were at a Regency dinner table. She half expected him to bow.
"Blair!" he said. "How wonderful to see you. How are you after..." He trailed off awkwardly.
She brushed it away. She hated being asked that. "Oh, you know. Getting better. How was your summer?"
"Very pleasant. I traveled abroad. After spending ten months every year teaching students who couldn't care less about my subject—company excluded, of course—getting away from this town was exactly what I needed. Europe is filled with historical sites, especially Italy. You would have loved it, I'm sure."
Blair's eyes lit up, and she wasn't even faking. History fascinated her—Mystic Falls especially, with its layers of buried secrets. She would often do researches, essays and presentations on her own for extra credits. "Italy. God, I would love to go there someday. I've spent three years learning Italian just at the idea of visiting."
"You're still young. I'm sure one day you'll be able to travel, see the world. And maybe share the experience with someone special, eh?" He winked.
Blair forced a blush—though the discomfort in her chest was real. Not because of Tanner's hint, but because of the idea itself. A friend, sure. A friend with benefits, maybe. But a lover—someone she loved? She felt somehow stunted in that area. No boy, no man, had ever touched her heart. Maybe she simply wasn't capable of it. Maybe those who called her Ice Queen were right.
"I don't know about that. I don't feel much like looking for someone special at the moment."
Tanner nodded. "Ah, yes. I heard about you and Mr. Lockwood. I've always thought he wasn't worthy of you, if you don't mind my saying so. You need someone more... mature. Not necessarily older, of course, but emotionally and mentally at your level. Tyler is still a child in many ways. And someone who would cheat on you—with Vicki Donovan, of all people—is a complete fool. Perhaps I shouldn't speak that way about my own students, but..."
Blair blinked. That was new. He'd never been this bold. Was it because she'd just turned eighteen?
His meaning couldn't have been more obvious if he'd written it on the board. But he wasn't wrong about Tyler—not entirely. Tyler was still a child in a lot of ways. Though, with a father like Richard Lockwood, how could Tyler not have issues?
"Blair... ?" Tanner's voice brought her back to the present.
"Yes, forgive me. I'd rather not talk about it, if you don't mind. Still a sore subject."
"Of course. I should be the one asking forgiveness. I shouldn't have brought it up."
She shook her head. "Never mind. I was wondering if I could take on a new project this year. I need every credit I can get for Harvard, and what better subject than history?"
"What did you have in mind?"
"Well..." She leaned forward on his desk to give him a better view of her tits. "I was thinking 'Mystic Falls During the American Civil War.' If I'm not mistaken, it's part of the curriculum this year, and I could find so much primary source material right here in town."
"As always, I admire your enthusiasm, Blair," he said—to her breasts. "Bring me a detailed outline by the end of October and we'll discuss it more thoroughly."
"Of course, Mr. Tanner. Thank you." She gave him her most dazzling smile.
The bell rang. Blair went to her seat, her skirt whispering against her thighs with each step. She could feel Tanner's gaze on her legs and smirked to herself. He was just so easy.
Caroline entered a few minutes later and bounced into the seat beside her, looking like an excited puppy—or the cat that got the cream.
"What is it?" Blair asked, grinning. She knew that look. Caroline had gossip she couldn't wait to share.
"We have a new student. A transfer. A junior."
Blair smirked. "A hot one, from the look on your face."
Caroline nodded vigorously. "Oh yes. So hot. Look, there he is." She tilted her head subtly toward the door.
Blair turned to watch the new guy walk to a free desk a few seats away. Tall, but not too tall. Sandy brown hair combed in a sort of Edward Cullen style, but less messy—point for tidiness, or minus one for trying to look like a sparkly vampire? Strong jaw, low brows, a broody expression in hazel eyes. Well-built, like someone who played sports regularly. All in all, a very handsome view.
"Want to call dibs?" Blair asked. First rule of their friendship: never let a guy come between them. If one was interested, the other backed off, no questions asked.
Caroline shook her head. "I think... I want to try with Matt. Slowly. You can have the new guy." She paused. "Careful, though. Looks like he's already got his sights set on Elena."
Blair rolled her eyes. "Typical. The charm of the sweet girl-next-door never fails, does it? Especially now that she's the sad girl too. Brings out men's protective instincts or something."
Caroline opened her mouth to say more, but Tanner started class and everyone fell quiet.
"Once our home state of Virginia joined confederacy in 1861, it created a tremendous amount of tension within the state. People in Virginia's northwest region had different ideals than those from the traditional deep south. Then Virginia divided in 1863 with the northwest region joining the union..."
For the first time in her life, Blair wasn't listening to Tanner's lecture. All her attention had been captured by the exchange of glances between her sister and the new guy.
Blair frowned. Caroline had been right. Well. No matter. She hadn't played any of her cards yet. The fact that Elena was interested in him only made him more interesting.
"So, what do you know about him?" Blair asked Caroline as they walked into the Mystic Grill that afternoon. Bonnie and Elena were supposed to join them later—Elena's routine stop at their parents' grave something Blair and Bonnie knew about, and now Caroline—but no one would dare bring up to her.
"His name is Stefan Salvatore," Caroline recited, ticking off the facts. "He lives with his uncle at the old Salvatore Boarding House. He hasn't lived here since he was a kid. Military family, so they moved around a lot. He's a Gemini, and his favorite color is blue."
"Impressive. I knew I could count on you."
"Always," Caroline said with a curtsy and a giggle.
"Oh, look. A certain someone's working today." Blair tilted her head toward Matt, wiping down tables in his server's apron. "If you're so set on him, why not start now?"
"You think I should?" Caroline looked uncertain.
"It's just a chat. You're not going to ask the guy to marry you, are you?"
Caroline nodded, putting on her resolve face. "Right."
Blair watched her go, her back to the entrance, which was why Tyler Lockwood managed to sneak up on her.
"Well, look who's here. The Ice Queen graces us with her presence. What an honor, your Majesty."
Blair turned with a raised eyebrow. "You didn't use to call me Ice Queen when I would suck your cock, Tyler. I remember how much you enjoyed it. Tell me, is Vicki as good at giving head? Or are you bored of her already?"
"Jealousy doesn't suit you, B," Tyler said, with his usual cocky smirk.
"Me? Jealous? You're delusional. Tell me, does Vicki know that you're in love with me? That she's just a rebound? I bet she wouldn't sleep with you anymore if she knew." Blair paused, pretending to reconsider. "Or maybe she would. She does seem like the desperate, no-self-esteem type."
"You should know I didn't really mean it," Tyler said, a nasty grin contorting his face. "When a guy tells you 'I love you' after fucking, it just means he loved the fucking."
Blair snorted. "Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?"
Tyler's smirk faltered. He said nothing. Across the Grill, Vicki waved at him. He gave Blair one last look, then walked away.
Blair kept her face impassive, but her chest stung. She shook it off, ignoring the strange feeling. Tyler didn't matter.
But the new guy did.
Stefan Salvatore would be hers, and both Tyler and Elena would seethe.
Caroline came back and they sat at a table together while Bonnie walked in and made her way to Matt. Blair watched them chat for a moment before turning to Caroline.
"How'd it go with Donovan?"
Caroline shrugged. "Don't know. He asked about Elena at first. But then we talked about the party at the Falls tomorrow and things got better, I think."
"So you're going with him? Sounds like improvement."
"We just said we'd meet there."
"Still feels a bit like a date, doesn't it?"
"I don't think he sees it that way."
"Well, that's because men never know what they want. You just have to show him."
Caroline nodded, but she didn't look convinced.
"Care." Blair leaned forward. "You want him, right? So, go after what you want. It's that simple. Want. Take. Have."
"Please don't quote Buffy at me—especially not if your point of reference is Faith. She made all the wrong choices."
Blair shrugged. "Maybe. But she was a badass. And she was so hot."
"Well, obviously."
They burst out laughing but the laughter died in Blair's throat when she saw Elena walking into the Grill with Stefan Salvatore at her side.
Damn, she moved fast.
Elena introduced Stefan to Matt—who glared at the new guy like he very much wanted to kill him with his eyes alone—and then to Bonnie. The three of them made their way over.
Blair turned to Caroline. "How do I look?" she whispered.
"Gorgeous, as you very well know."
"Just checking. I hate my hair today."
Elena reached their table. "Stefan, this is Blair, my sister. And Caroline, my other friend. Blair, Caroline—Stefan Salvatore."
"Very nice to meet you, Stefan," Blair purred, her voice dropping half an octave, her gaze hooded—a look she'd perfected in the mirror when she was thirteen.
Stefan swallowed. "Likewise," he said, his gaze drifting to her lips.
They settled into conversation, questions flying from all sides.
"So, you were born in Mystic Falls?" Caroline asked.
"Mm-hmm. And moved when I was still young."
"Parents?" Bonnie asked.
"My parents passed away."
"I'm sorry," Elena said softly. "Any siblings?"
"None that I talk to. I live with my uncle."
"So, Stefan—" Blair said, with deliberate slowness, letting his name roll off her tongue. He shifted in his seat. "—if you're new, you don't know about the party tomorrow."
"It's a back-to-school thing at the Falls," Bonnie explained.
Stefan turned to Elena. Blair's eyes narrowed. "Are you going?"
"Of course she is," Bonnie answered for her.
"We all are," Blair interjected. "You should definitely join us."
"I think I will. Thanks. I'm not usually one for parties, but..."
"Oh, I'm sure we can find a way to make it enjoyable for you." Blair sent him a suggestive smirk. "The loner look has its appeal, but better not overdo it, right?"
He nodded, something flickering in his eyes—desire immediately followed by confusion—before it vanished. He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it.
Then he turned back to Elena, and his expression settled into something focused, determined. A man on a mission.
Blair didn't know what Stefan's deal with her sister was but she wasn't ready to give up the fight just yet.