He slowly got up from kneeling, wiping his pants. He walked over to the trash, throwing the glass away.
"Y/n..."
He turned around, his gaze meeting mine. He leaned against the counter, a string of dark hair just barely covering his eyes.
"You and Stefan just met?" He asked.
"Yeah, we did." I casualy respond. I clear my own throat, the heat in my body cooling down. Yet, my head was still spinning. Why was it?
"Mm." His gaze lingered on mine for a moment longer than nessescary. He titled his head before slightly turning it.
"I hope my baby bro has been treating you right. How is he?" He asked again.
"He's good! Yeah. He's very kind and he's a good friend." I couldn't help but feel my throat tight up again.
God dammit, am I thirsty?
For him.
Cough cough! Y/n!
"That's good." He turned back towards me, his lips froming a smirk. "And you two get along quite well.... right?"
My eyes lit up. "What? Pleh. Damon!" I scoffed. "We just met. And he's not my type. He's just a friend." I laughed it away softly.
"Not your type, huh?" He leans up from the counter.
My breath catches up again. My heart is somehow pounding, so loud that I can hear it in my throat. He smirks at me more, his blue eyes searching mine.
"No... not my type." I quickly look away. I needed to change subjects. Quickly.
"So uh... what're you making for dinner?" I asked over my shoulder. My eyes went to look at him again. His smirk slowly faded. He sighed.
"Uh... just some spaghetti." He wipes his hands on a towel nearby.
"Spaghetti? I love spaghetti." I instantly smiled, my eyes lighting up.
"You do?" He softly asks in response. I quickly nod.
"Yeah, and I'm a bit of Italian."
"Sei molto bella per una donna italiana." (TRANSLATED: 'your very beautiful for a lady who's Italian.')
Damon responds with a slight grin, his blue eyes searching my face.
"What..?" I was so confused.
What in mothers fuck?
"Nothing. Don't worry about it." Damon walks up to me, grabbing something out of a cabinet over my shoulder. I feel my face heating up again.
"Wait.. you're a bit of Italian, Damon?" I ask.
"A little bit, yeah. That's where I get my perfect spaghetti making skills." He turns his head back to face me, holding a pot to cook it in.
"I bet your not even that good at making it." I smirked in response.
"Ppft, watch me. Best cook in the world." He rasied both eyebrows at me, smiling brightly.
"Sure... sure." I roll my own eyes, walking a bit away. "I'm going to go back to Stefan. Call me when dinners ready." I turn back to look at him one more time.
I gulp as I see his veiny hands, muscular, strong arms moving around to grab everything, his hair strings just barely over his eyes, his sly smirk on his face, and his fingers slowly moving.
What am I doing?
"Sure thing." He says, sending me a wink. My breath once again hitched. I turn around, walking back to Stefans room with one thought in my head.
Damon.
••••
YOU ARE READING
ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏɴsᴜᴍᴇs ʏᴏᴜ
RomanceY/n was the well known person at school, but not very popular. I had my three best friends. Leah, Zoe, and Carley. I was in a library one evening, looking at books. I scarred through the isle, and saw my favorite types of books. Romance. Perfect. Q...
