Maybe I said something terrible just now, she thought, and she didn’t care because she was insane.
“Bonnie,” Damon said again. “Come on.” He was wrapping his jacket around her again, trying to tuck her arms into the armholes. Bonnie let him do it. Her arms hung down limply, and the jacket made her want to shudder. The
leather of it smelled like Damon now to her. And the smell made her remember that one moment—a moment that had seemed to last forever—when his lips had touched hers.
“I’m insane,” she got out, between hitching breaths. “I’m . . . I’m . . . evil . . .”
“Bonnie!” Now Damon sounded more than shocked. He turned her around and Bonnie was so surprised that she let him do that, too. “Of course you’re not evil. And you’re not insane, either.”
“How can you say that after—”
“After what? That was just . . . it wasn’t what you think.”
Bonnie’s tears stopped out of sheer astonishment. She knew what that had been. That had been a complete, terrible, wonderful meeting of lips and souls. It had been a complete betrayal . . .
“No, it wasn’t,” Damon said, looking half exasperated and half . . . well, if she didn’t know better, she would think that it was still that tenderness that he had shown. And besides, how could he know what she was thinking?
“Everything you’re thinking shows in your face,” Damon said, looking as if his patience was being stretched. “But listen to me. Elena knows that I care about you. Of course I do. And she understands.” He fluffed Bonnie’s curls gently, almost as if he were affectionately mussing her hair. “And just for a moment, I was so glad to see you that—well, it was an impulse.” He shrugged. “We all have impulses. This time, maybe it wasn’t such a good call. But it doesn’t change how I feel about Elena. And Elena knows that—although I think it would be better if we both just forgot about it. I think you think the same thing. That we both should just forget it, yes?”
Bonnie’s breath caught in her throat again, but this time it was a different kind of wonder that had snatched the air from her lungs. It was amazement that Damon could be so casual, so—so brazen! And how dare he tell her what she thought? All she wanted was to run to Elena and bury her head in Elena’s lap and cry and beg Elena’s forgiveness. How could he imagine that she would . . . that she would want to . . . pretend to forget . . .
Bonnie blinked as Damon seemed to fade in and out of focus. Ohhh . . . She felt dizzy. Really dizzy.
“Damon?”
He just watched her. She had to admit . . . he didn’t look brazen. More as if he were in pain. His face looked very pale suddenly.
Was he taking on the whole burden of what had just happened? That must be it. He was going to tell Elena, because he wanted to help Bonnie, to make it easy for her. That was why he was saying “Forget.” He really meant . . . don’t mention it.
Suddenly everything that had just happened seemed oddly blurred in Bonnie’s mind, as if it were made out of ice cream that was rapidly melting. It was . . . becoming formless.
This must be just another kind of insanity. But, honestly, whether Bonnie wanted to forget or not, the memories seemed to be going. That was . . . a little sad, although she knew that thinking so was wicked. Bonnie watched her heavenly little moment shrink away into . . . oh, God, she was tired . . . into nothingness . . .
With a start, Bonnie lifted her head. She was wearing Damon’s jacket, which smelled strangely like sadness. Damon was holding her in a very gentle and fraternal embrace.
“. . . feeling better now?” he was saying.
Bonnie sniffed. Her nose was running. She sniffed harder, not wanting it to run on Damon’s clothes. She’d been crying, for some reason. There were tears on her cheeks, drying chilly in the night air.
“I’m sorry,” she said automatically. “What—what just happened?”
“Well, you either grayed out or you started to go to sleep again,” Damon said. “I just chased those bad dogs away.”
To sleep . . . again! That’s right! Oh, my God, Bonnie thought. I’ve been sleepwalking. And those bad dogs came after me and the big white dog!
Just as she thought this, she became aware of a low sound—so deep it was almost beyond her range of hearing. It was a growl, and it was coming from her friend, the big white dog who was standing beside her.
The big white dog was growling at Damon.
“Oh, good grief,” Bonnie said, suddenly feeling her spirits lift. It was clear that after seeing that the bad dogs were gone, the white dog had suddenly gained the courage to threaten someone.
For a good boy, he had a fairly vicious growl.
“Stop it!” Bonnie said sharply. “Damon isn’t trying to hurt me! Honestly!”
The white dog subsided, but his golden eyes seemed to watch Damon with disapproval. It made Bonnie want to laugh. But she also felt drowsy. Sleepy . . .
Damon gave her a little shake. “Look, Bonnie, what on earth is going on? You’re running around in the wee hours in your nightie!”