Note: I usually like my angst, but we've had enough of drama and heartbreak (and more is about to come, I suppose, though in other stories) so I tried to start something new and lighthearted. I hope I can keep my muse with this one, and that you find it something of your liking. The opening song of this story is "Oh Na Na" by Katie Herzing. I'm definitly out of my depth with this so I hope you will take the time to review.

#

You eyes are like a blue sky, blue sky, blue
You're floating in the fountain, in the fountain of youth
I bet you have an ocean, secret little potion
I bet you have a lover who's as fine as you

Hey Mr. Love, Mr. Big Love, Big Love

She hears the front door of the Salvatore boarding house closing behind her as she takes the stairs, the fast pace of her jogging does not slow down as she jumps the steps up to the second floor. Bonnie pulls at the earphone's wire, letting one of them fall upon her shoulder, the clip secured at the neck of her coral wrap knit crop top. One hand flies to the base of her neck to massage the sore muscles. The skin is covered with a sheer of perspiration but she feels wonderful. She needed this. She needed to release the stress, find an outlet for all the worrying and the catching up she had to do before she could be satisfied and enjoy her well-deserved spring break.

Damon insisted it was useless, even pitiful to spend her mid-term at her dorm, or worse, in her lonely house, and he's become a bit of a hassle since the accident with Tyler. He's hostile towards him and the only way for him to cut it out – whenever she tells him to stop behaving like an ass – is to leave. Not that they were such good buddies before, but Damon's protectiveness now extends to anyone breathing her way and sometimes it can get in the way of her poor social life. But not for Caroline, she's totally onboard with Damon's plan to live all happily together under the same roof – Bonnie suspects that the fact that she can't live full time with the twins has only made her need her more but she can't fault her for that – and her friend already planning dinners and brunches and outings and a few promising parties. Bonnie will do it all, because she's got a few years to fill up with as many good things as possible, since who's to know how many years she gets? Damon could accidentally suffocate her with all his fussing, she thinks as her plump lips curve into a smile.

She's almost reached her bedroom when she hears the bell from the front door. Bonnie sighs, throwing her head back with a pained noise – the amazing shower jet of her private bathroom is calling to her but she's alone right now and so she turns around and surrenders to her fate.

She hopes whoever is at the door will have the decency to not grimace at the way she looks right now because it's totally their fault. There are stains of sweat under her breasts and on her back, and she probably stinks a bit. She wants to take that shower so bad.

The boy at the door barely steals a glance to her. Maybe two glances. But he doesn't look disgusted. He's tan, in his thirties, and he's wearing the blue and violet clothes of the FedEx delivery service.

"Good morning, Miss," he says, lowering his eyes to the folder in his hand, "Bennett?" he asks. She sees the card with his name dangling from his neck but she doesn't try and read the name.

"That's me, yes."

"I have a package for you," he explains, and he's so fit she could almost swear this is the beginning of a porn movie. When he turns around to go to the delivery truck she shakes her head, blaming the thought on Damon's bad influence. He's clearly rubbing off on her. In a totally platonic way.

The delivery guy is in front of her seconds later, handing her the brownish box of an Amazon package.

"Thanks," she says with a smile, rushing back inside. She had totally forgotten about the order she'd placed. It must be a good sign. She's letting go of all the tiny things she tries to control every day. She has purchased a few interesting titles she was eager to get her hands on, but right now that shower jet is more tempting.

She shakes the package as she enters her room, the way she did when she was little and she couldn't wait to know what there was inside the prettily wrapped package she had gotten for Christmas or her birthday. She's used to the place enough to consider it her own, even before the accident with Tyler and Damon's Kevin Costner mode she used to crash there often.

Bonnie falls sitting onto her bed and looks around for something to cut the azure stripe before remembering the finely engraved dagger under her pillow. Not exactly the most romantic gift she's ever received, but she won't hold it against Damon. She loves the fluttery monogram, after all.

Inside the box there is Witchcraft Medicine: Healing Arts, Shamanic Practices, and Forbidden Plants, then Celtic Tree Magic: Ogham Lore and Druid Mysteries, and The Roles We Play, a title she actually picked from a list of recommendations for a course she's taking. Only, she realizes, as she's putting the books away, it's not what she ordered in the first place. If memory serves her well, the cover was in powder blue with a few wooden masks on it, and the title was something like The Masks We Wear, or something like that, instead this one looks oddly like a romance novel, the kind you read if you're bored lying under the beach umbrella.

She'll take that shower in a minute. She just needs to check the order she placed. Turning on her laptop Bonnie is satisfied to see she's not the one that got it wrong. She's never used the Help & Customer Service page before, but there's a first time for everything: If you placed an order but received the wrong item, you can return the wrong item for a refund or a replacement of the item you did not receive through theOnline Returns Centerby selecting theWrong item was sentreason. It's easy. But it's not, because the connection won't hold up and she gets tired trying to return the damn book. Whatever, who cares? The book she actually ordered seemed something that could make her fall asleep by the third line of the preface, anyway.

She's actually starting to feel the chill so she closes the laptop and goes to the bathroom. She'll be more patient and proactive after getting the smell of sweat off her. She's so eager to feel the water on her skin she begins undressing as soon as she stands up from her bed, letting the clothes fall along the way. Damon would be so unbearable about this, she knows, but this is her room and she can do as she damn well pleases – meet Damon Salvatore, Vampire, Badass and anal housekeeper.

The shower gel smells like freshly baked Homemade Honey Buns and it's divine, so yummy and utterly irresistible that she stands under the shower longer then she should. She leaves the bathroom in a cloud of delicious steam that follows her around the bedroom.

The laptop is still on the nightstand, and the book she's supposed to return is abandoned on the bed. She accidentally wets a page when she pushes it away and she's vaguely annoyed. Bonnie keeps the towel wrapped about herself, pressing a hand on her breast to secure it and tries again to initiate the procedure to return the book. She throws a look at the book cover noticing the skin color of the girl on top of it. It's out of curiosity that she decides to check the reviews for it. She might be more selective then her bestie but she's always tempted to give it a chance when she finds a book with a black girl on its cover. It's not like it happens that often.

Damon on the other hand will try just about anything – pretty much like he does with his one night stands – she's seen him reading Fifty Shades of Grey 'til the last page before he labeled it as utter crap and a total waste of earthly resources. For being someone that likes alcohol and parties as much as he does, one would never know the amount of stuff he reads. She hates that he's got good the looks and the brain, because he knows he does and it makes him only more insufferable.

The book has been published only a few months before. The summary is quite short: New York Times bestselling author S. Koning returns with a book that leaves you with more than you asked for. Bonnie has worked hard and she's made her passion her job, cutting herself a tiny role in the cinema industry, working as assistant, the kind of job that won't put her in the spotlight, won't give her a chance to doubt herself or leave the comfort zone of what she likes most, the buzzing activity of movie sets. She has the life she chose, but maybe not the life she wants.

She blinks, amused, reading the name of the main character and decides that this might just be what she needed to pass the time and enjoy herself. Maybe. If the writing doesn't suck too bad. If the plot is not too asinine.

Bonnie scrolls down the web page to read the Top Customers Reviews. The great majority are quite enthusiastic, with a five-star average review.

Maybe it's because I didn't go into it with great expectations that I actually was pleasantly surprised – one writes – it's a very nice book, that doesn't try to be more than a romance and yet manages to be much more. The author is gifted, I daresay, and I liked the style very much. I thought this was going to be just a book for frustrated women looking to be spanked by some good-looking face with a short vocabulary, instead it's about personal growth (and some very hot sex).

The following review is very short and to the point: I came for the sex (pun totally intended) I stayed for the love.

This is not my first time reading a S. Koning book – the third user writes – but this is by far the one I liked the most. The way she writes is so fluid that its basically seamless. She's gotten better with time, and the characters are so real, have such chemistry that I just cannot fathom that they are not real. I'm in love with them and their palpable connection.

Then come a few, very in depth reviews and she skips most of them to not spoil her reading. A few focus on the leading character, a few on the romance, but there's a general approval of the book. She's already sold on it, so she sends a request for a partial refund and starts picking some fresh clothes from her drawer, before picking up the sweaty clothes scattered on the floor.

There's a ring behind her, coming from the top of her dresser. Bonnie rolls her eyes. She doesn't bother to say "Hello" when she answers the call, "I bet you felt a disturbance in the force," she says sarcastically. "I'll have you know that I am tidying up right now, though you'd do it better."

"Of course. Italians do it better," he says. The innuendo doesn't go unnoticed and she rolls her eyes again.

"I don't think we're talking about the same thing here," she replies, sitting heavily on the bed. It bounces her up and down, like a kid playing.

"We totally should, then" he decides, "But I didn't call to talk about your laziness with chores–"

"I'm not the one who's lazy. You're the one who's anal," and she knows the error she made as soon as the word leaves her mouth. She shuts her eyes making a pained face. "Don't," she rushes to add, "Don't even say it. Just don't."

And she can hear him chuckling on the other side.

"You're so adorable. Are you blushing just thinking about how I could respond to that?" he asks "Are you?" the tone makes him sound like a kid pestering his parent for more candies.

"Of course not," she lies, the skin of her cheeks hurting from the sudden rise in temperature and the general, unavoidable embarrassment he likes so much to put her through. "Anyway, why did you call?" she asks, a bit annoyed at him.

"Don't bite me, yet," toning down the innuendo, but not giving up on it completely, "I just wanted to tell you I'm running late–"

"We didn't have any plans," she objects, sounding disinterested. They didn't have any plans but she had taken for granted he would be around, after all he was the one that insisted on her living in his house. What was the point of it if he wasn't there?

"–and I know you're gonna miss me so bad–"

"You wish," she protests, trying to not let him hear the smile in her voice.

"–that I thought it would be nice to let you know that I'm only neglecting you in the name of brotherhood and a splendid vintage car. You should see it, Bon. Such a body, hard and beautiful–"

"Are we sure we're talking about a car?" she asks, squinting a bit at his description.

"Are you jealous?"

"Are you delirious?" she replies, not missing a beat.

She can hear Stefan's voice in the background, telling him to stop bothering her.

"Don't mind him, he doesn't get our special bond," Damon says, dramatically.

"I don't either," she answers, dripping with sarcasm.

"You're so shy," he says, sounding moved, "We can go out tonight so I can try and remedy all that I'm cruelly depriving you of."

"You mean peacefulness and serenity?" she questions, "That would require you to shut up for at least a couple of hours. Can you do that?"

"We can have a staring contest. Whoever laughs first loses."

"Nope," he's so stupid, he'd manage to make her crack and proceed to rub his victory in her face all night long.

"Someone is scared… we should set a prize," he piques on the other side of the phone.

"No game, no prize."

"No fun."

"Then go out with someone else."

He just ignores the suggestion and continues, "Then I'll sit in front of you and catch up on my reading. You can just stare at me all night long, 'til your heart's content. I'm used to women staring."

"You'll have to take two chairs, your ego takes a lot of space," but, sadly, that's far from being false. Wherever they go, girls stare at him and elbow each other in the sides to subtly signal his presence. He walks around like he's just stepped out of your wildest fantasy. That's something that was difficult to accept for her in the past, refusing to admit such an asshole could be attractive to the point of making fools out of every girl out there, but now he's her best friend, and if not to him, at least to herself she must admit it. He's gorgeous to look at. Though not for her, of course, because they are friends and there are boundaries she has no trouble not crossing.

Because of Elena, and because of so many reasons, and because she doesn't see him like that at all.

"Suggestion duly noted. See you tonight, Bon-Bon."

"Later, Damon."

She stares at the phone in her hand with a smile. His silliness always lightens her heart, and sometimes it feels so strange to realize that, in between all the people that crossed her path, invaded her safe spaces, he's the only one that can manage to make her live her life the way a girl of her age should. A little bit recklessly, a little bit happily.

She lets herself fall back on the bed. Turning her head she sees the book the website wrongly sent her. Damon's comment about catching up on his reading pushes her to pick it up and flip through it with a quick movement of her slender fingers. At first glance, the style doesn't seem bad at all, but she can hardly say much about it.

Caroline will be out to see the twins and help Alaric, Damon is with Stefan staring longingly at a piece of metal, so she settles on the bed, patting the pillows behind her to be more comfortable and begins her reading. If it's nice enough, it could get her though the afternoon with a smile on her lips and a flowery, heartwarming mood. Why not.

She clears her voice, though she's not going to read out loud and turns the page to the first chapter, skipping the author's introduction altogether.

Bonnie couldn't help but think in that moment that it was the first time he was touching her. She had brought him his copy of the script many times, which he had accepted with nothing more than a passing look and an uninterested nod. She had reported the director instructions, the schedules for the following days, brought him coffee whenever he had asked for it, crossed each other when he left the lunch room and she finally got allowed a few minutes to grab a bite, and yet they never touched. Now, with a van almost running over her in the middle of the street, all she could stupidly think about, as he pushed her out of harm's way and pressed her between a car door and a hard, abundantly ensured sculpted body was that - after three months of intense working on set, forced by their roles to move like a satellite around him - this was the first time that Damon Spada had touched her.

She blinks and almost laughs in amusement before she realizes he's the love interest of the main lead, or at least someone of relevance, and there was a high chance she was going to read a romance between a black girl named Bonnie and a handsome asshole whose name was Damon.

It is easy to picture the scene, to picture his face, because something similar happened to her in Amsterdam. Something that almost broke her heart to pieces, something that made her look so closely at him she could almost count the fragments of black in his streaked blue eyes.

The name is an odd coincidence, but a coincidence nonetheless and she shrugs it off, physically trying to shake the feeling off her. Her skin burns, if only a little, where his fingers tightened their grip, but it doesn't matter.

This is a light reading, a silly story. It will engage her for the day and tomorrow she won't remember a single detail of the predictable, recycled plot of this book.

His blue eyes were openly angry and she braced herself for what was about to come. Actors always had a volatile mood, used to being pampered and adored wherever they went. It made for an easy accomplishment to make them lose their temper. Damon Spada was no different, maybe just a little worse. "Can't you pay attention? How the hell did you get this job?" he asked, hissing between his teeth like a snake, his fingers pressing down into the tender skin of her arms. Her petite figure easily trapped by his hands. Bonnie kept her mouth shut, merely pulling inward her lower lip to bite it and keep the words inside. She was tired and they had so much to do. It was not her fault that they had taken away the barricade to block the traffic too soon. Yes, they had exceeded their schedule but it was nothing new in their job and someone was supposed to inform her. She wore an earpiece for a reason.

Damon pushed her back again, towards the car's body, pulling himself away and passing a hand through his thick jet black hair. A grimace on his pretty pink lips, eyes shining with a certain repressed fury, like an animal whose first instinct is to attack. Maybe he was used to wearing the hero's cape – with his sculpted features and his irritatingly perfect face – but he clearly did not suit the part very well in real life. She found him so hateful she could hardly bring herself to thank him. And she didn't.

It is so awkward how the description fits her Damon so perfectly, it almost makes her feel like she's reading his private diary, but Damon is not someone that would keep a diary, and Damon would never have the decency to conceal his affairs, if she was truly sticking her nose into them.

"It's just a silly book," she repeats, shaking her head and going back to it.

"You've just put the whole production in danger," he accused her with a calm, hard tone. He was looking at her like a fly on the windshield of his new bolide. It didn't exactly spark any gratitude. Strangely enough, he didn't mention she had just put his life in danger, too. Just uttering the words, even if he displayed indifference, would have made her wake up the next day unemployed.

Not that his silence could spare her the lecture from production, but they would reprimand her and send her back to work. If he decided to lament her carelessness, now, tomorrow, or next week, she would find herself in serious trouble. Thankfully, he seemed to think himself too capable, or her too inconsequential, to imply that she could have any repercussion on his life. He merely frowned at her, pushing his fists into the pockets of his jeans as he answered the concerned question of the director and his personal assistant coming to check up on his state, then turned his back and went to sit on his chair, to run over his lines.

TBC