We'll Always Have Summer | Stefan Salvatore

Chapter Seven

1993 — Bill Forbes' Cabin, Somewhere in Virginia

   There were three things that Florence Gilbert loved the most in the world. The first was her friends and family, the people she cared about the most. The second was rocky road ice cream on a waffle cone, right after her mother's famous clementine and clove cookies—or anything that her mother made. The third, although it was stuck between love and hate, was swimming.

   That bone-crushing pressure of gallons of water enveloping every inch of her body and sinking into her lungs, her brain, her heart. She remained void of feelings, the fullness of defeat dominating her mind until all that was left inside of her was the remnants of the last bits of air. Underwater, there was no sound from the outside world—no cries from her parents, no profession of love too long hidden. Underwater, she was alone with merely her thoughts amplified to their fullest extent.

   She glanced at her surroundings, her fingers tightly holding on to rocks at the bottom of the lake. The sun shined brightly through the water, it's rays making a few of the rocks glimmer. Florence looked up, and she could see four heads staring down at her from the dock she jumped from. She blew out the air from her mouth, creating a mouthful of water that drifted upwards. With a final look at the simple and peaceful underwater world, she let go of the rocks and pushed herself to the surface. 

   "Three minutes and twenty-eight seconds," Bob said as he stared at his watch. He looked down at her and smiled.

   "I could have gone four minutes," Florence said. She pushed herself up to the dock and let out a breath, passing a hand through her face to get rid of the water that fell on her eyes. "Maybe four and a half."

   "Or you could have drowned," Cher said, pushing her sunglasses down to cover her eyes. "None of us know CPR, and the closes to a phone is half an hour away, so don't drown."

   Stefan suddenly raised his hand. "I know CPR," he said, with a small and careful smile.

   "On the other hand..." Cher glanced from him to Florence, a teasing smirk on her face. "You can drown." She pushed her with her foot, making her fall back into the water.

   Florence immediately swam up, holding on to the edge of the dock while letting out a cough from the sudden water that got up her nose. As she coughed, she glared at her laughing friends. "Screw you," she said between coughs. 

   "Oh, please!" Cher continued to laugh. "You would have loved to be saved by a heroic Stefan."

   "I would have loved for you not to kick me into the water." Florence swam to the other side of the dock, then pushed herself up to get on it. "If I kick her in, do you think she will speak to me again?"

   "No," Bob and Charles answered in unison.

   "You can't ruin her hair," Charles said, giving her a sarcastic smile.

   "I don't know why she did her hair," Bob mumbled, flicking through the pages of one of the many magazines Cher had brought with her. He didn't want to get into the water, so he chose to work with one of the many disposable cameras and read one of the many magazines. "We did say we would be coming down to the lake."

   "It's because I have to look good if any cute boys come," she said, pointing at him with her index finger.

   "This place is empty, though," Charles noted as they looked around. "We are literally the only ones here."

   For a summer's day, the lake was empty. It wasn't because it was summer and terribly hot and humid, but because of the rolling grey clouds that came over the mountains and the distant echoes of thunder. The clouds were dark and dreadful, carrying wind and rain with them. They moved slow, though, which was why they were all still at the lake with their feet in the water.