He was a good dancer. She doesn't remember a lot from that night, but she remembers that he was a good dancer. He bought her a lot of drinks and he made her laugh, and he called her a cab. She doesn't have a clear picture of his face, but she remembers his striking green eyes and his sandy blond hair.

"Do you want to go to the club later?" Caroline innocently asks Elena the next morning. "You can even bring Damon."

Elena smiles at Caroline. "Weren't you just there with Bonnie yesterday?"

Caroline lights up at the question. "Yes!" she exclaims, unable to keep in her excitement. "And I met a guy and I was hoping to see him again, but he didn't give me his name or his number."

"Don't you have a hangover?" the brunette asks bemusedly as she brushes her hair.

"It'll be gone by the time we leave," Caroline says confidently. "So, do you wanna go?"

Elena rolls her eyes but agrees. "Damon's wanted to do something for awhile now."

Caroline doesn't see him right away, and she spends most of the night at the bar, sipping drink after drink as she watches Damon twirl Elena around the dance floor. She can't help thinking, 'that should have been me.'

After the seventh or eighth drink, she hears a deep voice behind her. "And, here I thought you'd be smart enough to stay away after the first encounter."

Turning around, Caroline sees the most beautiful man she has ever laid eyes on. "I felt cheated," she flirts, despite the strange warning he's giving her. "You never even told me your name."

He takes the drink from her hand, swirls it around for a moment before setting it down and looking into her eyes. Caroline cannot help but get lost in those eyes of his again. "Would you dance with me?" he asks seductively.

Caroline nods; she's entranced by the way he's looking at her. She offers him her hand, which he takes delicately. He leads her to the dance floor, her drink forgotten on the bar.

She doesn't go home with Elena and Damon. This man, this blond haired god she's met, is not so gentlemanly this night, and he takes her to his home—or rather, his hotel room.

He tells her she's beautiful, tells her she looks a little too young to be in a club, but that doesn't stop him from kissing her against the hotel room door.

"I'm twenty three," she insists when he lets her breathe, and it's the truth. Although he's partially right, for she still looks seventeen.

She supposes he doesn't much care if she's lying. He looks to be about thirty five, but he doesn't tell her anything. As a matter of fact, she still doesn't know his name.

She's about to open her mouth and ask when he walks over to the stereo system and plays music. Not club music, but slow, intimate dancing music. She remembers all the dancing they've done, how in sync he was with her, and she moves over to him immediately.

She doesn't remember anything after that.

She wakes up alone in the hotel room. At least, she thinks she's alone. When she looks around and sees no one, she assumes he's left her alone, so she quickly puts on her clothes.

She doesn't remember what happened, but she feels an intense rush of pleasure at the mere thought of doing something, and she knows that whatever happened, she liked it—immensely.

Quietly, she makes her way over to the door. She doesn't know why she's tiptoeing; she's alone, she reminds herself, but the instinct is there nonetheless.

But as soon as her hand touches the doorknob, a shadow makes itself seen and he's all of a sudden right there, holding the door closed. "I never said you could leave," he says.

She's not truly surprised that he's also a vampire. Someone that beautiful—that perfect—couldn't have possibly been human. "I don't have morning afters with people I do not know," she says, "and I don't even know your name."

"Forgive me," he says apologetically, his fangs coming out. "I'm Klaus."