The iced-violet concoction was a beautiful dress. But this? This dress was a revelation.
It was red, the deep vibrant crimson of blood, and it would cling to Elena like a glove. Even hanging on the rack, it spoke of passion and intensity. It was a dress to fall in love in, or to stir up hate. If Damon were a dress, this was the one he would be.
“This is it,” Elena breathed.
Meredith’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. It’s a statement, all right.”
They headed into the dressing room, Meredith with an armload of selections, Elena with only the crimson gown. Pulling it over her head, she called over the wall of the dressing room, “Want to get dressed for the dance at my place?”
“We always do,” Bonnie called back.
It had been a ritual of theirs from their earliest dances in junior high to get dressed together, gossiping and doing one another’s hair. Caroline had always been with them, but Elena didn’t think she was going to join this time.
Elena smoothed the dress down over her h*ps and admired herself in the mirror. It fit perfectly, and the weight of the material—some kind of satin—made her feel powerful and protected.
“This is it,” she said, stepping out of the fitting room. Meredith and Bonnie came out in dresses of their own.
“Wow,” Bonnie said, looking Elena over. “I wouldn’t have thought red was your color, but you look great. Older.” She was in the mermaid green dress. “I don’t love this one. I’m going to try on the gold.”
Meredith looked sleek and composed in a black-and-gold dress with a long slit up the side, but she frowned. “This itches. Next!”
Elena changed back into her own clothes, draping the red dress carefully over her arm. Caroline would have liked this dress, she thought.
“Who’s Caroline going with?” she asked. She couldn’t help it; she had to know if she was going with Stefan again.
“I don’t know,” Meredith said. “She’s been avoiding all of us.”
“She never tells me anything anymore,” Bonnie said. “If it weren’t for math and history, I wouldn’t see her at all.” She sounded forlorn, and Elena had a pang of regret for the lost friendship. Maybe, now that they weren’t competing over Stefan anymore, Caroline and Elena could be friends again, someday.
The fitting room doors opened again, and Elena stepped out to see the next set of dresses. An idea was kindling at the back of her mind. Why not replace Caroline in their little pre-dance group? It would be one way to keep the horrors of her first homecoming night from repeating. She thought of Vickie’s innocent face, the way she had giggled at everything Dick said. How the walls of her room had been coated with blood in the future Elena had lived through. Things had to be different.
“Why don’t we invite Vickie Bennett?” she said brightly. If Vickie was with them, she wouldn’t leave the dance with Dick and Tyler. She wouldn’t desecrate the tomb, wouldn’t incite Katherine’s anger.
Meredith, dressed in the long silver gown, and Bonnie, in black velvet, stared at her. “You want to invite Vickie Bennett?” Bonnie said slowly.
“Why not?” Elena asked. “What do you have against Vickie?”
Bonnie exchanged a glance with Meredith. Meredith cleared her throat. “Neither of us has a problem with Vickie, but you’ve never liked her.”
Nodding, Bonnie added. “You’ve always said she was a useless little drip.”
“Oh.” A little twist of self-disgust curdled inside her. “Well, I was wrong. Let’s bring her along.”
After careful comparisons, Meredith chose the long silver gown, which looked like moonlight on her. Bonnie modeled fourteen different dresses and finally settled on the pink chiffon. Elena, of course, bought the red dress.
Leaving the store, she held her head high, feeling like a warrior. Like a hero. Elena wasn’t just going to save Damon and herself. She would save everyone.
13
The weather Friday evening couldn’t have been more perfect for the Homecoming game. Gold and pink from the setting sun striped the sky. On the field, the marching band stepped in precise formation for their pregame show, horns blaring and drums thumping. Cheerleaders cartwheeled in their red and black skirts, warming up the crowd for the game.
“The Homecoming game is a real American tradition,” Elena told Damon, leading him up the bleachers. “You owe it to yourself to experience it at least once. I can’t believe you’ve never been.”
“You’d be amazed at the number of real American traditions I’ve been able to avoid,” Damon said dryly.
“Well,” Elena said, sitting down and wrapping her jacket more closely around her, “I’m glad I get a chance to introduce you to something.”
Damon reached out and tucked a lock of Elena’s hair behind her ear. “You’re going to show me life in the light, right, Princess?” he asked, his voice low and teasing. “Football games and sock hops?”
“I don’t think sock hops are a thing anymore, Damon,” Elena told him, letting her voice take on a flirtatious edge. The brush of his fingers made her skin tingle. Sensing her reaction, Damon smiled and ran his hand down her arm, wrapping his fingers around hers.
This wasn’t her Damon, not yet, but he felt so familiar that she kept forgetting. The weight of his arm across her shoulders, the scent of his leather jacket, the cool skin of his wrist resting casually against her neck, the affection that shone through his mocking smile: It all belonged to her Damon, too.