1993 — Mystic Falls, Virginia

   The Fourth of July in Mystic Falls meant a small festival in the town square filled with barbecues, friendly competition, jumping houses, and a firework display at night. For Florence, the Fourth of July meant a big barbecue with her family and friends during the day, and the firework display at night. Her parents had invited most of Mystic Falls to their house for the barbecue, the scent of cooking meat wavering through each crack and cranny of the house. Never had she seen or smelt such a big amount of meat, but she knew that it was because her father enjoyed each public display. If he could, he would have run for mayor. 

   "Oh, Florence, not like that!" her mother gushed, slapping her on the hand.

   The carrots in her hand fell with the peeler, clanking softly against the kitchen counter. She spread her hands in a confused manner and just stared at her mother. "Is there a proper way to peel carrots?" she asked, a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

   "You're peeling them too much," her mother said, picking another carrot from the pile and the peeler. She began to peel it, just like Florence had been doing. "This is how you peel it."

   "I was literally doing the same thing, Mom," Florence said, glancing from the carrot to her mother. "Oh, my God, it's just a carrot! Mom, no one's going to notice if it's peeled wrong. They just want some carrots." She pointed at the full stove behind her. "And there's already a lot of them. Why did you say that you would make most of the food when dad invited literally the whole town?"

   "He invited family and our closest friends," her mother said, going back to mashing potatoes in a big pot. 

   "So, like, the whole town," she finished, shrugging her shoulders. "Mom, this food is enough for you to give leftovers to every single person that Dad invited."

   Constance Gilbert let out a sigh and turned to her daughter, face dusted with flour and the apron dirty with every other food she had made since early dawn. She gave Florence a glare, half playful and half serious. "Why don't you go wash up?" she said, a smile forming around her lips. "I'm almost finished with the food. I bet Gail and Zach are going to be the first to arrive, which means Stefan will also..."

   "Bye!" Florence called, immediately walking away from her mother. Once upstairs, she took a shower. The cut on her leg was healing, but it was large enough that a scar would be left. She was careful to shave around it, but it still stung. The cut reminded her a lot of that night in the woods, the night she saw Stefan's face go from boy to monster. That image had gone through her head countless times, including in her dreams, and it bothered her, but she still couldn't push herself away from Stefan. She wouldn't push herself away from Stefan.

   After showering, she pulled on a t-shirt and shorts with a few sunflowers stitched on the leg. She pulled on her sneakers and descended downstairs as she pulled her hair into two braids. There were already people downstairs, all of them greeting each other or asking where would they put what they brought to the party. She stood by the third step of the stairs, glancing from the open front door, the living room they only sat in when there were visitors, the living room with the TV, and then the kitchen. 

   The Lockwood's were already there, the mayor and his wife already looking as if they were ready to take pictures for the local newspaper: Mayor Lockwood and His Wife Go to Barbecue, They Brought Cupcakes. Richard Lockwood—Dick, like Florence and her friends like to call him, kept walking around and shaking hands, saying that he too would run for mayor and would like them to vote for him. Politics were kept in the family, apparently.

   The Bennett family arrived soon after, two women and one toddler that seemed to have power in their very appearance. Florence had loved to hear Sheila Bennett talk about her stories filled with the supernatural, from witches and ghosts to faeries and sirens. Abby Bennett, unlike her mother, was a florist who loved nature just as much as she loved her daughter, Bonnie. Little Bonnie Bennett, who Florence thought was just the cutest thing ever (after Elena, of course), was a girl that loved to play with her teddy bear and pull on hair. Rudy Hopkins, Bonnie's father and Abby's husband, loved his family more than anything. It showed in the way he wrapped one arm around his wife and the other held his daughter, laughter at the tip of his tongue. 

   The Forbes family were already there, a thick atmosphere between Bill and Liz Forbes. While Bill was away talking to his friends with a glass of red wine in hand, Liz was happily speaking with Miranda and Abby. Caroline Forbes, a baby that was getting ready to walk, happily chewed on her toys and spat on herself while her mother swayed her gently. Bob held her, a bored an annoyed look on his face as he stared at the baby in his arms. 

   Then, Florence's eyes caught the boy with summer in his. Stefan stood across the room, a soda can in one hand as he talked to some kid that went to her school. He must have felt her looking, because he turned his head and smiled directly at her. At that moment, her mind went a little crazy. It was like the TV lost signal and all that was left was white noise, it slowly shifted to the image of Stefan. He excused himself from the boy and walked over to her, his free hand pushing into his pocket.

   "Hey," he said as he looked up at her from the bottom of the stairs.

   "Hi," she replied, fingers twiddling nervously in front of her. "How, er, are you?"

   His smile widened as he nodded. "Good," he breathed. "I've been good. You?"

   "Same," she nodded. It was a strange conversation, awkwardness seeping between the two. They hadn't really spoken since the night of the play, since the Mystic Grill. If she were honest, she thought that it was strange between them because of the kisses they had shared on the stage. It made her chest ache a bit.

   "Hey, uh..." Stefan trailed off and glanced down at his shoes for a few seconds before climbing the stairs to stand on the one beneath hers. His eyes connected with hers, and her heart hammered against her chest with just that simple connection. "Damon won't... He won't hurt you, okay? I'll make sure that he doesn't."

   "I know," she nodded, swallowing hard. "But, you can't really stop him from getting close to me. Mom already invited him to the party..."

   "Has she invited him to the house yet?" he asked, quickly looking around.

   "He hasn't arrived from what I've seen." She followed his eyes.

   "Unless he's already here," Stefan muttered, staring at the door that led to the backyard. He climbed down the stairs and marched there.

   Florence followed him, a bite of fright moving around her. Compared to Stefan, Damon was the snake. Evil seethed from him as if he wore it as a cologne, his own personal scent. That monster stood besides her brother and her father, a beer in hand as he laughed at something exchanged between the three. The young Gilbert gripped her dress tightly, the fabric bunching up in her fist. She glared at the vampire besides her brother, hoping that he would somehow end up burning on the sunlight. Just like Stefan, he must have felt his eyes on hers. He looked and smirked, raising his hand and wiggling his fingers as a form of greeting.

   Fear crept up Florence's back, like a chill. Her heart hammered against her ribs, pins and needles in her hands, thoughts reeling towards Rachelle Watson and the smirk he had given her when he told her to run. Damon Salvatore, although he was Stefan's brother, deserved her hate and her fear.

   "It's the Fourth of July," Stefan said, breaking the glare she had on his brother. "Let's have some fun instead of worrying about my brother."

   "Fun?" she questioned, raising a brow. "With him here?"

   A smile spread around his face. He reached down to grab her hand and motioned to the side with his head. "Come on," he simply said, pulling her along. 

   Florence Gilbert knew plenty of crushes, from Charles Fell to the infamously handsome Johnny Depp. But, the feeling she got from Stefan Salvatore was entirely different. There was a giddy warm feeling in her stomach, and her heart acted all silly, and her hands sweated, and her mind was blank, and the smile on her lips was as if it were glued there. A part of her knew that this was different than a crush, stronger, stranger, weirder. 

   Stefan pulled her to the backyard, where her friends and other kids that were invited stood in a circle. Florence stared at them curiously, brows furrowed and wondering what they were planning. Cher turned towards her and grinned mischievously, motioning her to come over. When Stefan let go of her hand, she went to her best friend cautiously.

   "What's going on?" she asked, glancing around each person. She knew the majority of them from school, from the many town activities, and because her parents loved to throw parties.

   "It's the Fourth of July and we decided that we need to make a tradition," Bob answered, hands on his waist as he glanced around with hard eyes. "This is now a war."

   Florence's head snapped back with confusion running through her. "What?"

   "War, Flo!" Charles yelled, clapping his hands. "Get with the program!"

   The young Gilbert was about to say something in return, but she noticed the buckets full of water balloons, all different colours. She wondered how long had they been filling them up; did she really spend so much time taking a shower? All around her, the atmosphere was thick with excitement. Bob was right, it was a war.

   "Were going to split up into two teams," Bob explained, hands on his knees. "Charles and I will be team leaders."

   Charles clapped his hands together. "Let's pick team members!" He pointed at the Gilbert girl. "Florence, you're with me." She moved cautiously to stand next to him, still slightly confused.

   "Fine" Bob nodded. "I'm going to take Stefan."

   "You're going to break up Romeo and Juliet?" Cher asked with a laugh. "How could you put them against each other?"

   Bob shrugged his shoulders and quoted, "These violent delights have violent ends."

   Charles and Bob picked out their team members one by one. It was friends against friends, siblings against siblings, different age groups combined into one big team that would go against another big team. Florence was surprised with the amount of kids that were there, but she figured that it was because her father invited half of the town for the barbecue. 

   "So, are we Team Capulet?" Mason Lockwood asked, hands wet from accidentally popping three balloons. 

     Charles nodded. "That means we have to take down Team Montague no matter what." He glanced down at Florence. "Even if it means killing your husband."

   The young Gilbert girl gave him a look, of both annoyance and surprise. "I hope you know that those vows were for a play and that I actually didn't marry Stefan."

   "Can't you play along?" Charles asked, rolling his eyes. "We are the Capulet's, and we hate the Montague's!"

   "We just want peace!" Bob yelled, followed by laughter.

   "Peace?" Charles spat on the floor. "I hate the word as I hate hell and all Montague's'."

   "Stop quoting Romeo and Juliet and let's start!" Cher groaned, standing by Bob with her hands on her waist. "Seriously, let's go!"

   There were no rules, no winner, just throwing water balloons to each other and laughter. Florence Gilbert was already soaking wet from the many balloons she had received all over her, including the one where Cher held her down and popped several over her face. Now, she ran around the backyard and her front yard with two balloons in her hands, laughter at her mouth, and hear pounding from the thrill.

    While running, she ended up slipping on wet grass and falling hard on her but. She laughed through the pain, throwing her head back and knowing that the two balloons she had been holding popped on her fall. 

   "You're terrible at this," she heard someone laugh behind her. She turned her head to see Stefan, grinning and shaking his head. "Out of everyone, I think you've received more hits."

   "I'm good at swimming, not running," she reminded him, standing. "And from what I know, you and I are on opposite teams." She took careful steps back, making sure that she wouldn't fall from the wet grass again. 

   "Right," he nodded, the grin growing. He had a red balloon in his hand, full of water, ready to be thrown at her. "We are on opposite teams, so I'm supposed to throw this balloon at you."

   "You wouldn't!" Florence squinted a bit, glancing from the balloon to the boy. 

   Stefan sucked a breath and shrugged his shoulders. "I have to," he said. "For the Montague's."

   Florence took a few more steps back, her eyes straining from his face and shifting down to his shirt. It clung to him from the many water balloons that had hit, a perfect outline of the muscles. She swallowed hard and looked back up to his face, cheeks red. "Okay, well..." She turned and began to run as fast as her legs would take her. Between tables and chairs and people, she laughed as the boy with summer in his eyes chased her. 

   "You know I'm faster than you!" she heard Stefan yell from behind her.

   She glanced back at him before looking back to the front. "That would be cheating!" she yelled in return. Out of nowhere, she bumped into someone and fell back, the person falling on top of her. She laughed loudly and breathlessly, shaking her head as if she were being tickled. "That's cheating," she panted, squinting her eyes at the figure on top of her.

   "No, that's having an advantage," Stefan smiled.

   "Cheating," she said in a sing-song voice, shaking her head. "Admit it, Stefan. You cheated."

   "This is cheating." He held the balloon over her face and squeezed it, causing the water to fall over her. "I win."

   Instead of being angry, Florence laughed. It was a that loud laugh that rose from the belly to her throat, gentle and thrilling and happy. Then, she realised that he was on top of her as her laugh died down. She stared into her eyes, wondering how could they be so green, like summer. She noticed that his hair shifted from brown to almost blond, how the bow on his top lip seemed to have been drawn with a colour pencil, how his chin was perfectly chiselled, how his smile made her heart skip a beat. 

   "Perfect!" Florence turned her head to see Cher standing over them, a disposable camera in hand. She grinned widely and shrugged her shoulders. "Do you want a copy of the picture?"

   Stefan stood and helped her up, the simple touch of their hands causing a shiver to run up her spine. The young Gilbert girl hated the affect the boy had on her, even with the simplest of things. 

   "Here." Cher handed her a balloon. "Take your revenge on Romeo!"

   "Really?" Stefan put his hands on his waist and shook his head, grinning. "Are we still going with that?"

   "You were Romeo, you will always be Romeo," the blonde said, shrugging her shoulders. "She was Juliet, she will always be Juliet. But, now, she's Juliet that needs to get her revenge."

   Florence stared at the balloon in her hand, then slowly looked up at Stefan with a grin forming on her lips. He shook his head, still smiling, and took careful steps back. She moved closer to him, the balloon tight in her hand. Without a care, she threw the balloon, but Stefan had moved. The balloon landed on someone wearing a leather jacket in the heat, a man with black hair. He turned to her, blue eyes glaring in what she didn't know if they were playful or serious.

   "Oh, shit," she heard Cher mumble besides her.

a/n: hello, friends! as you all know, tvdcommunity are nominating stories for their awards. i would highly appreciate it if you'd all nominate this story in best stefan salvatore fic, maybe also nominate "white blood" in best klaus mikaelson fic. if you do, thank you so much! if you don't, thank you, too! you're reading my story, and that means a lot (: