Lucky Me | Damon Salvatore

20. Children of the Damned II

The ride with Damon was in silence. Well, silent for me. Damon kept on saying things to try and get me to talk, but it just wasn't happening. I was going to be annoying as I could possibly be. I think it was working.

"God damn it, Emily!" Damon exclaimed for the hundredth time. "Just say something. You could even say llama, and I would be satisfied." Saying llama does sound tempting, but torturing Damon like this was too much fun.

"Ok, I get it. You're mad at me for what I said." No shit, Sherlock. How long did it take him to figure that one out? "I'm upset at the words that left my mouth too. What I was saying wasn't the truth. I wish I never said them and that I could take them back." Was he apologizing in his own twisted way?

Even with all the questions in my head, I stayed silent. Damon groaned. "You've given me no choice. I must do what I have to do," Damon said, clearing his throat. I looked over at him, an eyebrow raised. What was he going to do?

"SO I PUT MY HANDS UP! THEY'RE PLAYING MY SONG! THE BUTTERFLIES FLY AWAY! I'M NODDING MY HEAD LIKE YEAH! I'M MOVING MY HIPS LIKE YEAH!" Damon yelled, aggressively moving his hips to no particular beat.

"NO!" I quickly put my hands over his mouth, trying to end the screeching. Damon moved his eyes on me, and even though my hands were covering his mouth, I could still tell he was smirking.

I slowly moved my hands from his face, afraid he might break out into a dance number. "I win," he simply said. I rolled my eyes at his behavior.

"Someone better call Shakira and tell her she has competition," I joked, deciding to join in on the bickering. I'm still mad at him, but engaging in playful banter won't hurt anybody. Right?

"Yeah. Her hips don't lie. Pfft. I beg to differ. Just look at mine," Damon said, moving his hips in a circular motion.

I patted his shoulders. "Getting better and better with age, I can see," I teased, sarcasm flooding my tone of voice.

"I'm telling the truth."

"Sure you are, buddy."

"We're here," Damon announced, pulling up into a parking space.

Looking out the window I saw a diner. It looked sort of like a Waffle House, but cozier and better looking. Instead of the yellow there was baby blue and white. The top of the building was covered in metal, the words 'OPEN' flashing on the left side and a sign that said '1940' on the right. The diner was small and barely had anybody in it. It is the type of place, where if you wanted to get away, that was where you would go.

"Let me guess," I said while opening up my car door. "You were here since it first opened. I bet you know everyone who is working here." Damon chuckled as he held the front door open for me.

"Actually, you're wrong. This place is a fraud. It opened in 2007, not 1940. I only know of this place, because Stefan used to come here." I nodded my head, picking a booth to sit down in. I figured he can't try anything if there was a table separating us.

"You aren't acting as excited as I thought you would be," Damon said, grabbing a menu and handing one to me in the process.

I scoffed. "I'm with you. Why would I be excited?" I asked, reading over the different types of things they had here. They had odd names for their meals. For example, one dish consisted of eggs, ham, onions, and peppers. The name was 'Purple Nirvana', which was odd, considering none of the ingredients were purple.