You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach, the one you get before something big happens? It can be a birthday, a trip, and even something as simple as seeing somebody you love. I had that feeling, and it was flowing all over me. It was a horrible feeling, which I hadn't felt in such a long time, or it felt like a long time. I sat in the seat with the window view, the sky a deep hue of orange whilst the sun appeared like a big, red cherry in the centre of the sky. The ground was green, a simple scenery of trees that appeared like bumps and cars that appeared like little ants. In a sense, a weird one, it was the only thing that allowed me to calm down the anxiety that nibbled my stomach.

   I twiddled my fingers on my lap, glancing from them to window. The distance between myself and Mystic Falls was getting smaller, and that caused my anxiety to double. All I could think about was seeing everyone again, their reactions. Caroline would hate me, that I knew. She had called many times, and I had let every call go to voicemail. While I waited for my plane, I decided that it'd be best to listen to them, since my voicemail was already full.

   Each call from Caroline was her telling me about what happened what happened while I was gone, which included the death of Mayor Lockwood, Bonnie's father being the new mayor, and something about a weird professor obsessed with the supernatural, which was in a way thanks to him that they found the cure. Her calls also included her cussing me out because I left without telling her anything, without a goodbye. Although she left many voicemails, she spoke fast, leaving me to understand less than half.

   Then, there were Stefan's calls. There were some where he was sober, where he called me selfish for leaving, and then he told me that he understood. There were barely any drunken voicemails, but those that were was him speaking about how he was sorry for picking Elena over me. It was then when I felt horrible, for leaving and for allowing him to even think that. Even though I was angry—and jealous—that he did pick her, I didn't want him to know. To be honest, I don't think he was ever drunk. He didn't sound drunk, but he did sound as if he had drunk The Mystic Grill dry.

   "Miss?" One of the flight attendants leaned over the two seats and smiled at me. There was a tag on her blue jacket, her name all in capital letters—Kate. For a second, it reminded me of Katherine, and I almost scoffed. "Would you like anything to drink?"

   I looked at her cart. "Uh, I'll have a red wine," I told her with a smile. I glanced down at my phone, seeing that I was an hour away from landing, and then turned back to the attendant. "You know what? Make it a whiskey."

   The woman chuckled and began to rummage through the cart. "Going back home?" she asked, glancing at me with a smile.

   "You can say," I answered, almost shrugging my shoulders.

   "I'm not a fan of home, either," she said, still smiling. "But, home is home no matter what. Oh, are you married?"

   I glanced down at my wedding finger, seeing the ring I had pulled on ever since I found it in my bag when I arrived in Puerto Rico. It was my engagement ring, the one Damon had given me all those many years ago. At first, I was curious of why was it in my bag since I returned it to him when I let him go, and then I realised that he must have somehow put it in, knowing that I would be living. I didn't like to admit it, but he was one of two people that knew me more than I knew myself, the other being his brother. Without realising, I pulled the ring on my ring finger, just like it was so many years ago.

   "No," I answered, taking off the ring and putting it in my pocket. "It's just... It's just a ring." I smiled at her and nodded. 

   She chuckled, looked around, then showed me her left hand. "It's not as big as everyone finds it to be." There was a small golden band with a small diamond in the centre on her wedding finger. It didn't look extravagant, but it looked well-taken care of. She looked down at her ring, a love-filled smile on her lips. "It is fantastic. I mean, you're the person you love the most for as long as the both of you want. But, it's not always baking in the early hours of dawn, or lovingly staring at each other, or being happy all the time. It's like work, although more fulfilling."

   I didn't know how to answer her, so I smiled and thanked her once again for the small bottles of whiskey. She walked away with a smile, asking the people in front what they wanted. I took a deep breath and held on to the bottle, turning my head to look outside the window. An hour passed by faster than I wanted it to, or maybe it was the numerous bottles of whiskey that I had taken. I yawned as I waited for my bags at luggage claim, which made me anxious. When I finally took my bags and walked out, I would find Damon waiting for me. He was the only one I could speak to, and the one that told me to make my return a surprise, which I went along with.

   After grabbing my bag, I walked out in a hurry. In between the people that walked in front of me, I could slightly see a man leaning against a black car. It was a man I knew too well, a man with dark hair and eyes to die for, a smirk that could melt hearts and voice that could mesmerise. He saw me, smiled, and wiggled his fingers as a greeting. I couldn't contain my excitement—which was strange because I was reluctant in returning—and I ran to him with a grin around my lips. With a laugh, I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He let out a groan, then a chuckle, and hugged me back.

   "It's good to know you missed me," he said as he pulled away. 

   "Ugh, I can't believe I missed you," I said, taking a step back.

   "At least I was missed," he said. I noticed that he wanted to shrug his shoulders, but he held himself back. "Come on, let's go." He took my bags and put them in the trunk as I got in the car. It felt strange being back in his car, being back in a country where the only thing I heard was English. Damon got back in the car and began to drive back to Mystic Falls, whistling to whatever tune was on the radio. "How was Puerto Rico?" he asked, glancing at me. "From the looks of it, you got a pretty nice tan."

   "It was nice," I answered with a nod, glancing down at my fingers. "It let me forget about everything for a while."

   "You know that it was only temporary, right?"

   "I wish it would have lasted longer, though," I muttered. "I'm not ready to face everyone since I left without a goodbye."

   "At the moment, you're on everyone's bad side," he said. "You didn't pick up your phone for weeks, Clara. Why did you leave, anyway?"

   "I wanted to get away from Mystic Falls," I breathed, leaning back in the seat. "Away from everything."

   "Did it work?"

   "I met nice people, lived right on the beach, and drank every night," I responded, glancing at him with a small smile. "It sort of worked."

   "I wish I would have had a nice vacation away from everything," Damon muttered, almost huffing.

   "Oh, please, Damon. You finally got what you wanted; you have Elena."

   "She's sired," he corrected. "It's not what I wanted, Clara." He sighed and shook his head, the strange look in his face changing into one that showed no emotion. "When I called you that night, remember that I told you that we found a cure?"

   "Please, tell me you weren't lying."

   He raised a finger, signalling me to be quiet and allow him to continue. "There is a cure, but we don't know where it is. But, we know of a map. We can't see it, but Jeremy can. Problem is that it isn't complete."

   "Great," I sighed. "That's fantastic."

   "Clara, would you please let me continue?" He shook his head, pulling a hand from the steering wheel. As he spoke, he moved it. "The only way for the map to be complete is for him to kill vampires. Now, I'm telling you this because Jeremy might try to kill you."

   "That is also fantastic," I sarcastically said, giving him a small smile. "So, what else have I missed? Please, go into detail. Caroline spoke so fast in her voicemails that I understood less than half."

   As he drove back to the boarding house, Damon told me about everything that happened while I was gone.  He told me everything I had missed, including Carol Lockwood's death, how Elena killed on of the Five—highly skilled vampire hunters gathered by a dying witch, who grew an invisible tattoo to the map of the cure every time they killed a vampire—and suffered hallucinations, Bonnie working with a professor from Whitmore College who knew about Silas, a man that was in a way protecting the cure? To be honest, it was a lot to catchup in an hour car ride back to Mystic Falls. 

   Damon stopped in front of the Salvatore Boarding House. My hand was on the door's handle as I stared up at the big house, seeing how it hadn't changed in the long weeks I was gone. I sighed and slowly opened the cars door, listening to the sounds. In the distance, I could hear a car, a dog barking, curtains ruffling with the breeze. Nothing had changed, everything was the same, and that made me smile.

   "Welcome back, Clara," Damon said, taking a stand next to me with my bags in his hands. 

   "It feels good," I said, smiling. "Strange, but good."

   "Because deep inside, you know this is home," he told me. "You know that will never change."

   "Don't get with deep with me," I joked, bumping him with my shoulder. "I should be the one that gets deep." I took my bags from him and took a deep breath. "Weren't you going back to Jeremy Gilbert in order to kill more vampires and get the map to grow?"

   "I thought you would have hated that idea," he mused, pushing his hands in his pockets. They had turned humans into vampires, which meant more vampires for Jeremy to kill, which meant that the invisible tattoo in the boys arm would grow, which meant we'd have a map to the cure. In a way, it didn't bother me that much.

   "I feel indifferent," I told Damon with a shrug of my shoulders. "I should feel angry at you because of that, but I don't?"

   "I guess that's good." He shrugged his shoulders then turned, getting back in his car. "I'm gonna go. See you later, Clara." He drove away, his car becoming small. 

   I took a deep breath and walked into the house, taking my time. Nothing had changed, everything was the same. The parlour still held the warm fire, Damon's blood and bourbon concoction, the leather chairs that smelt like alcohol, and the paintings on the wall. I passed a hand through the table in the hall, admiring the smooth wood that was as clean as everything else. Just for a second, I felt like crying, because this house felt comfortable. Nostalgic. 

   The sound of a creaking floorboard made me look up. In the doorway, stood Stefan. His eyes held surprise. It seemed that he wanted to say something, but he didn't know what. So, I gave him a small smile and said, "Guess who's back."

   "Clara..." he breathed. My name sounded like music coming from him, and I wanted nothing more but to hear him continue to speak. 

   "Stefan..." I breathed, taking a step towards him. I stopped myself from getting closer, afraid that I just pull him to me and kiss him. "Hey." I didn't know what else to say, what else to do.

   Someone else walked in, a blond, with her arms crossed and an annoyed look in her eyes. She rolled her eyes as she glanced between Stefan and I. "The sexual tension is thick," she said, almost chuckling. "Clara, why don't you just jump on him?"

   "Rebekah," I smiled, shaking my head. 

   She smiled in return. "I'd love to catch up, but we have to go." She glanced at Stefan, smirked, and looked at me. "Would you like to accompany us?"

   "I just arrived," I excused. "I'd rather unpack and take a good, warm bath."

   "Aw, come on, Clara," she insisted, walking up to me. "We're going to sneak into a professor's office and steal a headstone. Doesn't that sound fun?" There was a wide smile on her lips, almost appearing like a smirk. 

   I ended up going with them to Whitmore College, to the office of a certain Professor Atticus Shane. His office was filled with occult items, which made me make a face as I walked around. Stefan and Rebekah looked around, moving items in a hurry. I tried to help, but I didn't know what they were looking for other than a headstone. From what Rebekah said in the car ride, the headstone was something that would resurrect Silas, the person that had the cure, or something like that.

   "Well," Stefan breathing. "Headstone's not here."

   "Don't ripper out on me," Rebekah mumbled. "We'll find it. Oh, you're all bottled up. You need a release. Maybe we can find a voodoo doll or something." She opened a desk drawer and rummaged through it, then lifted up a bag of herbs. "Ah, this should do the trick. Exactly what you need." She moved to him. "The professor's stash of herbs."

   "Not interested," Stefan replied, turning back to rummage.

   "What happened to you?" she groaned. "You were so much fun in the twenties."

   "I was a psychotic killer with no emotions in the 1920's," he corrected. 

   I chuckled and almost rolled my eyes. "You may have been a killer, but you were far from emotionless, Stefan," I told him with a soft smile. "You had a blast. We know you remember. The jazz, the booze, our little table at Gloria's..."

   "Don't make me compel it out of you," Rebekah joined.

   "All right, um..." He nodded. "I guess we had a little bit of fun."

   "Thank you," she nodded. "So, now that we've established that fun is, in fact, possible, maybe you'd like to start having some?" She held the bottle up, almost smirking as Stefan hesitated. "Don't worry about the professor. He won't be back any time soon; I made sure of that."

   He hesitated once again, but reached for the bottle. It was strange seeing him him smoke, but it was attractive. He took a seat and leaned back, inhaling the smoke from the herbs. As vampires, as undead, we couldn't really get high as the humans did, but we still got that buzz in the back of our heads and amplified it. In a matter of hours, the buzz amplified even more. I took a seat behind the desk and leaned my head back, closing my eyes as spun on the chair.

   "So much random crap in here," Stefan sighed, walking around. 

   "Crap, maybe. Random, no," Rebekah answered. She sat in front of the desk, her head held high like a queen. "Looks like Shane has a bit of an afterlife fetish. Hopi prayer feathers, the Han dynasty soul vase, and that is a Polynesian sacrificial knife."

   I stopped spinning and looked at Stefan, who held a knife in his hands. "Brutal way to die," I joined, "but at least it appeases the gods."

   "Since when did you two become such artefacts experts?" he asked, glancing from Rebekah to me. 

   "We enjoy other cultures, Stefan," Rebekah said. "I know that might be hard for you to understand, considering you dated a child who only thinks about herself." I was about to let out a laugh at her comment, but stopped myself before it came out. The laugh ended up sounding like I was trying to get something that was stuck on my throat, a mixture of a scoff and a snort.

   Stefan smiled, then threw the knife at Rebekah. She caught it right before it hit her face, and laughed. "Still a sensitive subject, I see." She stood and walked towards him. "Do you know why I wouldn't compel Elena from your memory?"

   It peaked my interest at her words, making my smile disappear from my lips and my eyes to stare at the Original and the man that I came to have feelings for. Stefan kept a straight face, showing no emotion. "Because you wanted me to suffer."

   "I did," Rebekah admitted. "It's the only way you'll learn. It took me a thousand years and a hundred betrayals to realise love, and caring, ruins you." She turned and glanced at me, giving me a small smile. "Doesn't it, Clara?"

   "Hmm," Stefan hummed, "that's awfully bleak."

   "Quite the opposite, it's liberating, actually." I spoke up, deciding to join. I stared at Stefan, ignoring the Original's curious gaze. I stood and walked to him, my hands inside the pockets of my sweater. "Do you want to know why we had so much in the twenties, Stefan? Because we didn't care. We just did what felt good—drinking, feeding..." I bit my bottom lip and traced my finger down his chest. "Sex."

   He tilted his head to the side slightly, and licked the corner of his bottom lip. "The sex wasn't good because we didn't care, Clara," he said. "It was good because we were crazy. Crazy sex is always good."

   I smiled, stopping myself from grinning at the memory. "You were hardly the model of sanity, Stefan."

   He grabbed my hand, making me smile and remember the twenties. We used to dance, then, and drink, and feed, and we had sex. It was a spur of the moments, but we were to high on blood to stop, too intoxicated with each other to care. There was a part of me that wished to return to the twenties, just because of those little moments. 

   I smiled at him, and licked my top lip. "Stop caring..." I whispered, staring into his eyes. He stared back at me, leaning slightly closer. I was prepared for him to kiss me, to finally kiss me, but then the door open. Next thing I knew, I was hiding behind a closet in the professor's office, Stefan pressed against me since it was so small. My hands were grasping his shirt tightly, just like the time I first kissed him. I slowly looked up from my hands to his eyes, seeing him staring back at me. Even in the darkness, I could tell that his eyes were the brightest, and most beautiful, shade of green. 

   It wasn't until Rebekah spoke that we realised that we were still in the closet. I turned away from him, my cheeks reddening at the thoughts that passed by my head, and decided to walk out. Rebekah held a man by his throat against the bookshelf. "Question is, who are you?" she asked, as the man made choking noises. She pushed him on the chair she had been sitting on, glared, and grabbed the knife from the desk. She turned back to the man, gave him a small innocent smile, and began to cut into his arm. As soon as the knife penetrated the man's skin, the overwhelmingly sweet scent of blood hovered around me. I licked my lips, but took deep breaths and controlled myself.

   Rebekah continued to slice his arm open slowly. "All you have to do to make this stop is tell me who sent you." The man groaned, but didn't answer. She sighed, brushed a finger against the knife, and tasted the blood. "You're full of vervain, so I know you haven't been compelled."

   "Or maybe somebody compelled him before he ingested it," Stefan joined, half circling the man.

   "He was after the headstone. We need to know who sent him."

   "Okay. Fine. So, we take him home, wait till the vervain is out of his system, and then compel him and get whatever information we want."

   "That's not a bad idea."

   The man suddenly began to grunt and to spit out blood. I grabbed his face in surprise, thinking that he was dying, but as I looked into his mouth, I scoffed. "He just bit off his own tongue," I told them, shaking my head. My fingers were covered in blood, so as a vampire, I lifted my fingers and licked them. The sting from the vervain hit at that moment, causing me to tremble for a few quick seconds. It was like eating spicy food, and you could still feel it even after about an hour after you have eaten it.

   "So he does know something!" Rebekah said, her hands closing into fists.

   The man stared at us as he panted. He suddenly grabbed the knife Rebekah was holding and jabbed it into his own neck. Stefan immediately pulled it out, but the man had already died. The blood seeped from the wound in his neck and down his shirt. For a few moments, I was tempted to sink my teeth on the wound and drink, but he was full of vervain, and I did not want to experience the pain because I was greedy.

   "I guess he was compelled," said Stefan.

   "Was it my bastard brother or yours?" Rebekah spat.

   "Maybe it's opinion number three," I joined, staring at the dead man. I glanced at Stefan and Rebekah. "There's another team in the race for mortality."

   Stefan's phone began to ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and stared at it. Rebekah grabbed it from him before he could answer, and answered it herself. "Hello, Elena."

   "What did you do to Stefan?" Elena asked, her voice echoing. 

   "Rescued him from his old, dull life, but it keeps calling," Rebekah responded, making him roll his eyes. "Stefan's not in the mood to talk right now."

   "Then he can listen," spat the young vampire. "I know you might not care about me right now, Stefan, but Kol compelled Damon to kill Jeremy. They're somewhere in the tunnels, and I—it's one giant maze down here, and I can't find them. So, if you still care about the cure or about Jeremy, then maybe you can come help." It was silent for several seconds, until she sighed and ended the conversation.

   "Well, that is an interesting predicament," Rebekah said with indifference, "for the three of us." She handed the phone back to him and took a deep breath. "I'm glad how this ended up, because I seriously did not want to see you two have sex on top of that desk."

   I stared at her in surprise and shook my head. "We weren't..."

   "Oh, please!" She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, glancing from Stefan to I. "The sexual tension between the two of you is as thick as a brick. I'm waiting for the moment when one of you finally jumps on the other." She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "I'm rooting for that to happen, as surprising as it sounds."

   "Rebekah..." I wanted to tell her that it wouldn't happen, but I didn't know what exactly to tell her.

   "I better go and deal with Kol," she said, the smile disappearing. "You deal with your brother, Stefan. I'll deal with mine." In a blink of an eye, she disappeared. 

   I turned to Stefan, my cheeks reddening once again. "You should go stop Damon," I told him. "I'll drive your car home."

   "Home," he nodded. "That's strange, you always called it the boarding house, never home."

   "Yeah," I nodded, glancing down. "I guess I realised that the boarding house was my home since I returned."

   "How about the house you bought?"

   "That's burned to the ground thanks to Damon," I chuckled, walking out of the office. "And... And that house was never my home, just a house."

   "Welcome back," Stefan said, turning to me and giving me a small smile.

   I smiled in return. "It's good to be back." I glanced at his car quickly, deciding that it'd be best to change the conversation before I pushed myself closer to him and kissed him. "I'll drive your car home. You can go get Damon. And when you two return home, we can have a good, well-deserved drink."

   He smiled and nodded, quickly glancing away before looking back at me. "Yeah, sounds good."

   After handing me his keys, I drove the car back to the boarding house. Not even ten minutes later, Stefan arrived with a dead Damon over his shoulders. He didn't answer when I asked what happened, but instead sauntered to the basement. I followed after him, confused and wondering what happened in the short amount of time to make him angry. 

   Stefan threw his brother into the cell, and bleed him out. Once again, I asked what he was doing. "Kol's compulsion is still in effect," he answered, cutting his brothers arm open as soon as it closed. "I need to weaken him so he won't kill Jeremy." He then stood and leaned against the mound of dirt where the vervain used to grow, messing with a wooden stake.

   Minutes later, Damon woke up. He groaned and looked around, confused at his surroundings. I wanted to go up to him and ask what was wrong, but I was afraid, and I didn't know why.

   "Easy there, buddy," Stefan spoke, stepping closer to his brother. "You lost a lot of blood."

   Damon groaned. "So, you bled me out?"

   "Yeah, I didn't really have much of a choice," the young Salvatore explained. "Kol's compulsion is still in effect, so you need to stay locked up. We don't have any vervain, so... This was the only way I could weaken you."

   "You sound real torn about it," Damon breathed, trying to sit up. "Shouldn't we be going after Kol, make him de-compel me?"

   "Yeah, yeah, sure," Stefan sarcastically answered. "That sounds easy enough, Damon. We'll get right on that." He pointed at me and at himself with the wooden stake, a small, teasing smile on his lips.

   Damon fell back and coughed. "At least me see Elena."

   "Come on, you know you can't do that," Stefan said, his tone sounding different. "With the sire bond, all you have to do is tell her to let you out of here. It's too risky."

   "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

   "It's better for Elena if you stay in here for now, at least until we can find the cure, and then when she's no longer sired and you're no longer compelled, you can both do whatever the hell you want." Stefan grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the cell, closing it behind us. 

   "Stefan, wait!" I called as he continued to pull me out of the basement. I glanced back at the closed cell, hearing Damon call out for us. He sounded pained, weak, and I wanted to help him.

   As Stefan continued to pull me along the hall, I saw Elena round the corner and head the direction we just came from. There was nothing different about her since I last saw her, except that I no longer wanted to sink my teeth into her neck. Her blood no longer seemed appealing, which meant that she was a vampire, just like I was told several times. 

   "Going to see Damon?" Stefan asked her, his tone of voice sounding annoyed.

   "I need to talk to him," she answered, quietly.

   "Well, you can't. He'll just ask you to let him out."

   "I won't let him out."

   "You won't have a choice," he retorted. "You're sired." He stared at her, then shrugged his shoulders. "That all?"

   "Stefan, what are you doing with Rebekah?" she suddenly asked. "She tried to kill me."

   "And this will be the second time that Damon tried kill Jeremy. So, I guess nobody's perfect, right?"

   "Are you trying to punish me?" she continued. "I don't know how many times I can apologise."

   It was at that moment that I got annoyed with the young vampire. I scoffed and, surprisingly, glared at her. Elena turned to me, her eyes widening in surprise. She uttered my name softly, as if she couldn't believe I was standing right in front of her. 

   "Are you really trying to make yourself the victim in this, Elena?" I asked, crossing my arms. "Newsflash, not everything is about you."

   Stefan chuckled, which was strange. He turned his head to Elena and said, "I never asked you to apologise. You can do whatever you want, Elena. I really don't care."

   "You're hurt," she said, softly, as if she couldn't believe it. "You're hurt, and you're acting out. Stefan, this isn't you."

   "Sure it is," he nodded. "You've just never seen me like this. You don't know what I look like when I'm not in love with you."

   It wasn't just Elena that was shocked, I was also shocked. His words took me by surprise, and it was one of those times where I was left speechless. I had known Stefan all my life; I knew the bad and the good in him, but this was a side I had yet to see. It came out of nowhere, where pain was deeply penetrated in his heart and he just couldn't help but let it out in the most brutal way. In a way, Elena was right when she said that he was acting out because of the pain.

   Stefan smiled. "I'll let Damon know you stopped by."

   Elena looked surprise, and a little embarrassed at the words that came from Stefan. She nodded, hesitantly turned, and walked away. When she was out of the house, I turned to Stefan in surprise. I pushed him on his chest and shook my head. "What the hell?" I asked, my tone raising. "Why would you do that? Why would you lie?"

   He let out a small scoff and shook his head. "I'm not lying, Clara," he said. "You don't know."

   "I know you," I retorted, pushing him on the chest once again. "I know you, Stefan; I've known you all my life. I know when you're lying, when you're angry, and when you're hurt, and right now you are lying, and you are angry, and you are hurt."

   "I'm not lying," he said, quieter this time. He stepped closer to me, tilting his head slightly to the side. "I'm wasn't lying, Clara. I'm not in love with her, not any more."

   He was so close to me that our chests were touching. If I looked up, our lips would brush, and I knew that I would not be able to control myself if that small bit of adrenaline ran through me. So, I continued to look down at his chest, mouth slightly open as I breathed through my mouth. I felt his heartbeat against my chest, heard his breathing, heard his shirt ruffling against mine as he breathed. Those little movements made me control myself even more, avoid looking up at him.

   "Clara," he called, ever so softly. His hands touched my arm, his fingers sliding up my sweater until they reached my neck. "Clara..."

   It was then where I could no longer control myself and looked up. His green eyes collided with mine, and so did his lips. I brought my hands up to his neck, pulling him closer as he roughly kissed me. He pulled off my sweater, his hands pressing against my hip as he pushed me against the wall. His lips against mine were hot, fiery, passionate and demanding. I wanted to pull away before I lost myself but I couldn't seem to; I was too late.

   The next things I knew, I was laying down a bed with Stefan's lip still on mine. I leaned up to pull on his belt but he pushed me down once again, kissing me as his hands roamed from my neck to my shirt. He ripped my shirt open, his hands brushing up and down my sides. It was then when I ripped his shirt as well, and bit his bottom lip. My arms reached up and tangled around his neck. In an instant, I had pulled away and arched up into his broad chest, moaning in the contact of body heat against my own, before I drew back into his lips. 

   I had expected fireworks, tingles and desire, but in the end I could only describe it as timeless. The kiss obliterated every thought. For the first time in a long time, my mind was locked in the present. My worries evaporated like a summer shower on hot pavement. I was drunk on endorphins, my only desire Stefan. A kiss like that was the beginning, a promise of much more to come.