Eleanor Mae Swan - informally known as Ellie by her friends - has always been the "ugly" twin compared to her sister Bella. Bella didn't have to try, not for anything, and everyone loved her: despite her social awkwardness.
But Eleanor had to work...
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"No, Stefan, I wasn't anywhere near Georgia." Damon says to his brother through the mobile he has pressed to his ear, "You know, I'm beginning to get offended with all these accusations."
I roll my eyes, bringing my attention away from the window — oh yes, the wonderful, ever passing trees — and directing it towards the dark haired man in the drivers seat beside me. I'm not entirely sure it's safe for him to be on the phone while driving — purposely avoiding the fact it's, you know, illegal — but I wasn't going to argue with him about it. If I'd kicked up a fuss about it he'd probably have crashed my car on purpose just to spite me. I like my car, so I let him drive. He's not been too bad, we haven't had any accidents.
Yet.
"Stefan, honestly brother, chill out. I've been in Forks—" Damon says, sending me a look of exasperation.
"Forks?" Stefan asks through the phone.
"Yes, Forks. In Washington. Christ Almighty Stefan, you've been to high at least school twice. I know you take Geography." Damon replies, using the — one — hand he has on the wheel to drive rather sharply around the corner.
Apparently there was an attack somewhere up in Georgia that was on the news this morning, and Stefan recognised the death-type as vampire related. So automatically Damon was called to check on his whereabouts. You can just feel the trust, can't you?
"And anyway! We're on our way to help you, dearest brother of mine, so I'd appreciate a little trust if you wouldn't mind." Damon sounds far too happy too happy today, I know Stefan can hear it. He won't say anything in case he ruins Damon's good mood but he can tell. I know he can. He's not an idiot.
Well, not completely.
"We?"
Damon grins at me, "Say hello my darling." He presses the speaker button on the phone, placing it in the cup holder between us before his left hand returns to its' — rightful — place on the wheel.
"Hello Stefan, I hear you've been having some trouble." I say, my eyes darting to the tree we just narrowly missed. Jesus, why did I agree to country lanes?
"Eleanor, I thought you were staying in Forks."
I send Damon a raised eyebrow, receiving a shrug in return, "My sisters on her honeymoon, didn't feel like spending two weeks with my father and the new brother-in-law's family. Am I not welcome with you?"
"You're always welcome to stay with us, Ellie, you know that."
"She'll be staying in my room Stef, no need to get one ready for her." Damon interrupts, and I hold back a sigh of relief at the sight of the very straight road we're now driving along.
Damon is the worst driver. You'd of thought he'd be better, wouldn't you? He's had a good century and a half to perfect it.
