1993 — Mystic Falls, Virginia

   They had been planning it for a while. It was summer, and Mystic Falls was boring, so they decided to head to the outskirts of town, to the lake house that belonged to Bob's older brother. Bob had helped his brother clean the whole house, take care of his daughter, and do so many chores, only so he could borrow the lake house for a few days. It didn't tale a lot of persuading from Bob's brother, it was his sister-in-law that had the last say. Sheriff Forbes was a tough woman with a heart of gold, but full of justice. She said she was going to drop in on them and make sure everything was orderly, which made Bob yell that it was a yes. It was.

   "Are you sure Bill said yes?" Mrs. Gilbert asked as she watched her daughter pack. She had her arms crossed, brows furrowed, and eyes following every step of her only daughter. 

   "For the twentieth time, yes." Florence smiled as she quickly glanced up at her mother, pushing a shirt into her bag. "Mom, you can call Bill and ask. He said yes. Liz said yes. Caroline would have said yes, but she's eight months old so she can't really talk."

   "Elena's birthday is on the twenty-second," her mother reminded her, a stern tone in her voice.

   Florence nodded. "It's her first birthday," she elaborated. "Mom, Elena's not going to remember who went to her first birthday or what she got."

   "There will be pictures," Mrs. Gilbert defended. "How many times have I told you, Florence? Memories are important. She may not remember, but there will be pictures of this for her to see when she gets older. How do you think she will feel when she's told that Aunt Florence didn't go to her first birthday party because she wanted to spend time with her friends?"

   "She'll probably think I'm a cool aunt," Florence chided with a playful grin. She turned to her mother. As soon as she saw the disappointed look in her eyes, her grin faded. "Mom, I'm kidding. I'll be here for Elena's birthday. After all, I did already get her a gift." She went to her closet and came out with a small box with a ribbon on top. She laid the box on the bed and took off the  top, revealing a small plush teddy bear. "Apparently, everyone in the Gilbert family gets plush toys for their birthdays, so I decided to get her this teddy bear." She pulled it out and showed it to her mother with a proud smile.

   Medium sized, coloured a pale tawny with two shiny black eyes and a sown-in forever smile. Its nose was a gentle triangle, which she could bop and tease with her little fingers. Florence saw it while at the mall with Cher, and she thought back to the bunny Grayson had given her and how much it meant to her throughout the years. She wanted that teddy bear to mean the same thing to Elena, even if she was adopted and not really her family by blood.

   "Fine," Mrs. Gilbert finally said, a surrendered sigh escaping her. "Be safe, alright? I don't want a call from Liz saying that she had to arrest you because you were drinking."

   "Mom!" she groaned. "Liz wouldn't... I mean, we're not drinking."

   Mrs. Gilbert let out a scoff as she rolled her eyes. "I may be old, Florence, but I know what teenagers do when there are no parents. Do I need to remind you that I was a teenager once?"

   "You don't need to remind me," Florence nodded, reaching over for her swimming ware. "I know that you and dad were teenagers once; you only repeat it like twelve times every day."

   "I just want to make sure you're safe," Mrs. Gilbert sighed, shaking her head. "Are you all packed? Do you need anything? Who's going?"

   "Cher, Charles, and Stefan," Florence answered, turning around to face her mother. "Cher and I are sharing a room, the boys are sharing another. Nothing's going to happen because I am a responsible young adult." She gave her mother a smile, bright and cheery and hopeful that her mother wouldn't change her mind.

   "Hmm," her mother hummed, nodding. "It seems Stefan's part of the invincible foursome, now." There was some form of teasing in her tone, but Florence brushed it over.

   "He doesn't have anyone," she softly said, frowning. "We don't want him to feel so alone."

   Mrs. Gilbert walked up to her daughter and threw her arms around her, giving her a tight hug. "I'm so glad I raised someone as nice as you," she said as her hug tightened. "Your father and I did no wrong."

   "Where's Dad, anyway?" Florence asked, wanting to change the subject. She felt strange whenever her parents, mostly her mother, spoke about how they raised her. She was the youngest, and they had her at a very late age—a miracle, they called her. The miraculous Gilbert baby, she always joked. 

   "Working," her mother sighed, shaking her head. "He got called into work early this morning. Complications on a surgery patient that needed immediate attention. You know how it is to be a doctor, sweetie."

   "I'm not one, so I don't know," she muttered, hoping that her mother didn't hear her. She closed her bag and let out a breath, glancing around her room to see if she had missed anything. She had packed everything she needed, and hoped she wouldn't need anything more. Knowing the not-at-all-predictable Cher Gaines, she would need something. So, she had at least fifty dollars pushed into the bottom of her bag, rolled up into one of the socks.

   "Okay," Mrs. Gilbert nodded. "Who's picking you up, Cher or Stefan?"

   "Bob," she responded as she pulled on her shoes. "Cher's car got taken away because she got another speeding ticket." She stood and dusted her hands on her pants. "We're all going together."

   Mrs. Gilbert ended up hugging her only daughter in the front porch of her house, arms wrapped tightly around her. Florence just stood there, face bleak as her eyes were on her snickering friends. She was the only daughter, the youngest out of the Gilbert children. It was obvious that she was over-cuddled by her parents, and her brothers. Her mother even more by her mother than the rest of her family.

   After several minutes, she finally pulled away and made her way to the car, getting in the back, between Charles and Stefan. She waved at her mother as Bob pulled away, then took a deep breath when her house was at the distance. Her eyes stayed on her hands, pursing her lips as no one spoke. 

   "So," Cher began, "my plan is to buy a lot of food, drink a lot of alcohol, and then have as much fun as we can at the cabin."

   "How are you going to get alcohol?" Bob asked, snickering. 

   "My brother was nice enough to buy some things," she smiled, quickly glancing back at the backseat. "Didn't you see Charles and me put a few boxes in the back of your truck?"

   "Charles and I," Bob corrected. He furrowed his brows and shook his head. "I didn't see anything..."

   "Of course you didn't," snickered Charles. "You're half-blind, Bob. It's why you wear glasses, why you probably didn't see us push two boxes full of alcohol into your trunk."

   "Jesus, I am blind," Bob muttered, scratching the side of his head. 

   "Well, half," Florence grinned at her friend. 

   "Look!" Cher put a disposable camera to her eye and pointed it to the back. Before any of them could give an actual smile, a bright flash blinded them. "This is the surprise shot, for the scrapbook."

   "You're going to waste the whole role if you keep taking pictures like that," Florence said as she leaned back on the seat. 

   "Please," Cher huffed. "I brought like ten more. So, we're all good."

   "I don't know why the hell I even commented," Florence mumbled, quickly glancing at Stefan. "She's always prepared." 

   He was staring out the window, hands pressed together and in front of him, the sun perfectly hitting his face. His eyes appeared lighter, like leaves that have just sprung from a harsh winter. It was the lightest part of him, she thought, the most purest thing she had ever seen. They were half-closed, either from being tired or because the sun was too much. His lips were set in a straight line, not harsh, but neutral. She could stay staring at him for a while longer, but he looked at her and she quickly turned away, her cheeks reddening. 

   An hour later, Bob stopped at the gas station that was close to the cabin. It was when they all got out and extended their feet. Ten minutes later, they were back in the car with several bags of chips and several plastic bottles of soda. Bob and Charles had bought fifty dollars worth of fireworks, which made Cher and Florence groan, and Stefan be confused. 

   The Forbes cabin was big and spacious, but warm and inviting. Each space in the cabin had a rustic feel, as if Bill Forbes wanted the cabin to appear like his house did not. The difference was from rural to country in a blink of an eye. The first thing they did, although they wanted to do the exact opposite, was bring in the groceries Bob and Cher had gotten before they picked everyone up. They unpacked that in the kitchen, Cher fighting about where everything needed to be. She was meticulous, always needed to have everything perfect.

   Cher Gaines had OCD since she was a toddler. She would arrange and rearrange her toys constantly, which made her parents take her to a psychologist. Florence found out because eight year-old Cher told her. Of course, back then, she didn't know what OCD was until she got older. But, Cher was getting better. She didn't constantly arrange and rearrange things, but there were signs that it was still there. Her clothes were arranged precisely by colour , and she would still wear orange on Thursdays.

   Florence found the bedroom that would be hers for the following days. It was smaller than her bedroom, but it was comfortable. The bed was in the centre of the room, with two bedside tables with a lamp on each one. Instead of a closer, there was an empty dresser, which was immediately filled with things as she unpacked.

   She went downstairs with her hands in her pockets, her eyes immediately falling on Stefan. He stood in the kitchen with the rest of her friends, laughing. A smile immediately formed around her lips as she stared at him. She felt good as she watched him with her friends, laughing and joking and having a good time. And then, his eyes caught hers. His smile widened, and his eyes softened, and her heart began to beat wilder. 

   "Tension!" Cher laughed out loud. 

   Florence's cheeks reddened as she gave her friend a look. "Will you shut up?"

   "How about I do something better?" she suggested, drinking the pink drink in her glass. "You and Stefan can cook tonight. We'll be in the living room." She grinned and pulled Bob and Charles with her, the trio snickering. 

   The young Gilbert turned to Stefan and gave him a tight and embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry about that," she said, scratching her arm. "They tend to do that quite a lot, to be honest."

   "I've noticed," he chuckled, sipping on the pink drink. "Oh, you want some?" He pushed the glass towards her.

   "What is it?" She stared down at the floating strawberries, noticing that the drink appeared more like a slushie than just  juice. As she glanced around the kitchen, she noticed one of the bottles of wine was open by the blender. "Wine slushie?"

   Stefan let out a chuckle and shook his head. "It's more like ginger ale, frozen lemonade, pineapple juice, red wine, and frozen strawberries." He poured another glass with what was left in the blender and handed that one to her, taking back the one he had given her first. "I think you might have wanted a new one."

   "I could honestly care less," she said with a smile, shaking her head. She took a sip, her tongue immediately covered with a sweet and fruity taste. "Okay, it does taste good."

   "I did tell you I'm a good cook," he responded with a grin.

   "Okay, well, there's a huge difference between cooking and combining drinks," she teased, walking over to the fridge. "But, what will you make, Chef Stefan?"

   "Something simple." He stood next to her, eyes glancing all around what was inside of the fridge. "I think all that they bought was meat and alcohol."

   "Look at that," she breathed. "We're having a medieval banquet in the middle of 1993."

   Stefan laughed and shook his head. "Well, think of it as if we're back in 1493, instead."

   "Please don't cook that much," she sarcastically said, glancing at him. "Just make something simple, okay? Because, if you decide to make something other than simple, I might burn this place down."

   "You don't know how to cook?" he asked, arching a brow. 

   Florence took a seat on the counter and looked down at her hands, swallowing hard. "I know I'm supposed to know how to cook, but I don't. I don't even know how to boil a freaking egg." She quickly glanced at him before starring back down at her hands. "I've been too busy swimming that I don't know how to do the simplest things in life. Sometimes, I wonder what I'd be doing with my life if I wasn't swimming."

   "You'd probably be doing something amazing," Stefan softly said, giving her a smile. He was moving around the kitchen, a dishcloth over his shoulder as he pulled out the foods from around.

   "I'd probably run away," she said with pursed lips, staring at nothing exactly. "Because I'd be too afraid to do anything else with my life."

   "I don't think so," he said, standing besides her and beginning to cut up vegetables. "Florence, you're only seventeen."

   "I'm supposed to know what I want to do with my life," she interrupted him.

   "No," he interrupted her. "Flo, listen to me, you're only seventeen and you still have a lot to live. Some people haven't figured out what they want to do for the rest of their life and they're forty." He straightened his posture and looked straight into her eyes. "When I was younger, I wanted to be a doctor."

   "And, now?" She scratched her chin and let her fingers rest close to her lips. "What do you want to do now?"

   He shrugged his shoulder and gave her a small smile. "Well, I don't know."

   "My dad knew what he wanted to do when he was fifteen," she divulged, shaking her head. "Grayson knew when he was twelve. John knew he wanted to be a historian when he was ten. I'm seventeen and I have no idea what I want to do with my life."

   Stefan laughed and glanced at her as he cut carrots. "Are you listening to me?" he asked. 

   "I am," she nodded, "but it's just not wanting to stick in my head."

   "Or you're just stubborn," he noted.

   "Maybe," she hummed, slowly nodding. "Or..."

   "You're stubborn," he quickly interrupted. "You can't deny it anymore, Florence."

   Florence Gilbert didn't exactly cook, but she watched and munched on the few vegetables Stefan chopped up. As she munched on a piece of carrot, she stared at him whenever he wasn't looking at her. During those moments, she wondered how it would feel to have a relationship with him. She imagined it to be just like that, spending time in the kitchen and laughing about stupid little things that made absolutely no sense, or having a deep conversation like they just did. 

   She imagined the dates they'd have, the little stolen moments between chaos that made them feel better and their hearts beat wildly. She imagined the future with Stefan, both in college and dating even the odds being thrown at them about high school sweethearts never staying together. And then she imagined a life after college; would she be married to him? Would they have children? Would they have that happily ever after ending where they would grow old together and watch their grandchildren?

   Florence Gilbert thought herself crazy for actually thinking those things over a boy she had met a couple weeks ago. But, she couldn't help it, especially with the way he grinned at her and playfully bumped her shoulder. Her heart continued to beat wildly against her chest, all thanks to him, and she quite didn't like that feeling. It scared her. Because, she had never felt like that, and she wondered if it would hurt further in the future.