Hello again! This is my new, muti-chapter story and I'm excited about it :) the idea was inspired from a Law and Order: SVU episode I recently watched (LOVE that show!) and when I read the book 50 Shades of Grey the story just begged to be written. I just want to let people know that THIS IS NOTHING LIKE 50 SHADES OF GREY! Except for the theme of BDSM. Please read and let me know what you think! I will continue to post based off the number of reviews I receive and if people think I should continue.

Major Warnings for the story: Slash AND FemSlash (this is my first attempt at FemSlash so bear with me!), BDSM and Dominance/submission relationships and lifestyles (nothing too extreme-some of that stuff made me cringe when I read it), bondage, explicit sex scenes, violence, drug use, sex, threesomes, slavery, kidnapping, extortion, abuse of all kinds, mature dark themes, and sex. Lots and lots of kinky sex ;) Also, if anyone is into this lifestyle, feel free to correct me on certain things. I'm doing my best to research this while I write it but it would be great to hear someone's actual experience. Happy Reading, and don't forget to review!

Disclaimer: I don't own The Vampire Diaries or the characters associated with it. I just own the city of Nivea, the country of Atteca, the minor characters I made up, and this plot.

"Goodnight Jeremy! Be careful out there!"

Jeremy Gilbert smiled at the young chef before leaving through the back door of the restaurant, The Grille. He walked briskly across the street to the alley, looking over his shoulder every few seconds as the number of street lights along his path diminished. When he got to the main street, he hurried across it with a large group of people, narrowly avoiding taxis, cars and limos careening down the street, like most typical Thursday nights in the city of Nivea.

Fifteen minutes later, he was in his neighborhood and walking on the broken sidewalks towards his apartment. He avoided trash and stray animals as he navigated District 5, the poorest, largest, and, consequently, most dangerous section of the city. His decrepit old apartment building on the corner looked particularly foreboding in the dark as he pushed the door open, the lights flickering in the hallway. He jogged up the stairs and down the hall to apartment 209, quickly fishing his keys out of his pocket and pushing on the door with his shoulder the same time he turned the handle.

The sight of his barely livable one-bedroom apartment caused a heavy sigh to escape from his lips when he was inside. The walls, once white, were now turning brown, the windows were permanently shut due to the buildup of grime and dirt and the grey carpet was thin and rough and decorated with crumbling pieces of asbestos. This was the sight that greeted him every time he returned, and like every time, he wished it had morphed into something else while he was out. Even after a year of living there, it still didn't feel like a home.

Another sigh, this one from pure exhaustion, left him as he threw his keys and battered black wallet onto the old wooden table he managed to find across the street near the huge dumpster where so many discarded their old furniture. He went into the kitchen and pulled an old plastic cup from the nearly barren cabinets, filling it with water from the faucet. He opened the refrigerator, finding it bear with only a half-full carton of milk, a couple packets of cheese and salami and leftovers from the Grille from two nights ago. Sighing again, he brought the plastic to his lips, wishing that the refrigerator came with an ice machine like the ones he always saw on television in the homes in District 1, Nivea's wealthiest district. But that would be too much expectation from an apartment complex in a poor neighborhood like this. He was grateful the apartment even came with a refrigerator, for he wouldn't have had the money to purchase his own.

Feeling fatigued, he dropped into the worn piece of plastic that served as his dining chair when he actually was home to eat dinner. He grabbed the remote sitting in the middle and turned on the television, waiting a few moments for the discolored picture. After flipping through the six channels of local television and seeing nothing of interest, he settled for watching another rerun of Friends. As Jennifer Aniston and Courtney Cox filled the screen he leaned back against the uncomfortable plastic with a tired sigh. The job at the restaurant took a lot out of him and didn't give enough in return. The only reason he didn't go hungry was because Megan, the head chef, made sure he had at least one meal a day. He was grateful for his job, but being on his feet ten to twelve hours six days a week was taking its toll, and he was still barely making it for rent each month. With the way he was struggling, he would have to start looking for a second job soon.

Jeremy bit his lip as he ran his hands through his brown hair. Making ends was a constant worry of his; six days a week he spent working ten hour shifts at the restaurant and he had barely anything to show for it. But he had no one else to turn to for assistance, being an orphan since the tender age of 9 and bouncing in and out of foster care, a hell on earth if ever there was one. He shuddered; ten years of terrible memories that he did his best to forget every day but never could. They were permanently etched into his brain, and in his skin.

Shaking his head to ward off unwanted thoughts, Jeremy turned off the television and went to his bathroom. He turned on the light, illuminating the dingy space, and turned the water all the way to hot. Steam wafted to the ceiling after a few moments and he sighed in relief as he stripped. The past few days the hot water hadn't been working, and all the residents were forced to take cold showers, which felt like ice now that it was December. He moaned when the water warmed his freezing skin as he stood under the spray and washed away the day. Aside from one old jacket and few thin long-sleeved shirts, he had little to keep him warm and was thankful for any extra warmth he could find.

As quickly as he had gotten in the shower he was drying off as quickly as possible to avoid catching a chill. Without turning the light on he walked the familiar path to his bedroom, the equivalent of two jail cells put together. A worn twin mattress lay in the corner with a faded blue sheet, a red sheet and a thinning comforter. A picture of him when he was younger posing with his father and mother sat next to the mattress next to an old alarm clock.

Grabbing his pajamas from the corner of his bed, too-short bottoms and a holey grey T-shirt, he slipped them on before dropping his towel beside him and laying down with a tired groan. He grabbed the thin pillow and punched it a few times before attempting to find a comfortable position. Just before his eyes closed, he grabbed the picture of his parents and wished them a good night, hoping to get a decent night's sleep despite the loud activity happening outside.

"Fuck," Tyler Lockwood muttered as he woke up that morning with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. He blinked multiple times as he ran his hands through his already mused hair, but found little relief for the dryness. A soft moan from his left captured his attention and he realized he wasn't alone; the man on his left and woman on his right remained blissfully asleep and he counted his lucky stars. He couldn't even remember their names, and he sure as hell wasn't in the mood to make small talk when he felt like complete shit.

Never again, he thought vehemently as he climbed over their tangled limbs and stood, his toes sinking into the plush, white carpet. His muscles screamed as he raised his arms above his head and worked kinks out of his back and he bit back a groan. Damon was a right bastard for allowing him to drink so much. Then again, his best friend of nearly a decade wasn't exactly who one could depend on to be sober most of the time.

Miraculously, he found his clothes in mostly one spot and he gathered them before going into the bathroom. He double checked that the door was securely locked before hopping into the lavish shower, groaning when the water positioned itself correctly to soak him and the tiles under his feet warmed. Showering quickly, he made his clothes as presentable as possible before looking through the drawers for a toothbrush. He smirked when he found five unopened in the fourth drawer; Damon always made sure his guests were prepared.

Tyler ran a hand through his damp hair, musing it just enough to his liking before exiting the room as quietly as possible. When he shut the door he looked around; there were people stumbling in and out of rooms, though none of them looked in the mood to talk, and others sat in the hallway at a loss. Tyler praised his luck as he quickly walked to the stairs; the last thing he wanted was to encounter anyone, especially Damon. He rounded the corner, inwardly rejoicing at his success, and bumped into the very person he meant to avoid.

"You weren't just going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?" Damon Salvatore's smirk shone in his voice. "That's no way to treat your host."

Tyler scowled, cursing himself for getting caught and for his impeccable appearance. At 34, Damon was one of the wealthiest bachelors in Nivea and he wore it well with his silk shirts and costly leather loafers. If he didn't know the man as well as he did, Tyler would've never guessed he was suffering from a massive hangover behind his leering smirk.

"I take it you'll be staying for breakfast since Dolly had the weekend off and Alaric didn't."

"Does he ever?" Tyler grumbled.

"I want details. Every last dirty one," Damon batted his eyelashes, ignoring his quip. Despite his irritation, Tyler chuckled.

"I might be up for sharing if I can remember what actually happened."

"Nice try. You weren't that fucked up."

Tyler rolled his eyes again but followed him down the marble staircase through the foyer. Remnants of last night's party were strewn everywhere still, despite the maids that were scrubbing furiously at the floors and the walls. Guests were staggering in and out of bathrooms and out the front door as they tried to sober up, some gazing around in confusion and some dragging themselves miserably. Damon didn't pay anyone any mind as they walked to the patio.

True to his word, Alaric had created a true breakfast of champions; platters of pancakes and waffles, plates of toast and bacon, bowls of eggs, smaller bowls of syrup, salad and fruit and pitchers of water and mimosas covered the large black iron-welded table.

"How many people were you expecting?" Tyler asked as he sat down across from Damon at the left end of the table, away from other guests.

"The majority from last night. Stefan and his entourage might come by later," the raven-haired man smirked at him. "You should stay."

"I can't. I actually have things to do today," Tyler said as he grabbed two pancakes. "Not all of us have the luxury of taking the weekends off."

"And yet you do."

"I only stayed because Dolly's gone, like you said."

"It never ceases to amaze me that you still don't know how to cook. I thought Carol would have taught you before you moved out."

"You're one to talk. When's the last time you were in a kitchen making something other than a cocktail?" he quipped.

"I am capable of cooking a full meal. I'm just too busy to do it," Damon snorted as he fixed his own plate. "Speaking of busy, you were very much so last night. A guy and a chick?" he grinned. "I knew the old you was still there."

"Well if someone hadn't pressured me into taking double shots with them, that wild side would've stayed where it belongs: hidden."

"Don't blame Jim Beam. But I happen to like that wild side. He's a lot more fun than the dick you see in the papers."

"That dick is the reason you can throw all these lavish parties. I wouldn't insult him," he laughed when Damon rolled his eyes.

"No need to get testy. I just want to know the details of your sex-capades."

"All you needed to do was ask," he said innocently.

"So…?" Damon asked impatiently and Tyler laughed again.

"From what I can remember…" he trailed off, stalling for effect and making sure Damon held on to his every word.

"Yes?"

"Those shots we took hit me faster than I thought, so I went to the room where everyone was hitting the bong. It comes my way and I took a few hits and I got so faded that I couldn't even get up. So I'm waiting for the high to wear off and this gorgeous chick comes out of nowhere and falls into my lap. Don't ask me what her name is because I can't remember now."

"Do you ever?"

"She's drunk, and I can barely understand what she's saying because I'm beyond drunk, but she did tell me I looked good and she wanted to have a private party, which I wasn't going to say no to. So I follow her upstairs and on the way to the room this guy runs into me. He starts spitting out apologies and I tell him it's alright but he's persistent and asks me how I can make it up to him."

Damon grinned over his mimosa, "He was pretty, wasn't he?"

"He was. Not as hot as the chick but still…he was nice to look at," Tyler grinned. "I told him I knew how he could make it up to me and he follows us to the room. We get in the room and the chick looks confused but I just kiss her and tell her to go with it. I tell her to get naked and she does. I asked her if she's ever done two guys at once and she says she's done more, which kind of threw me, but I figured she must be a freak if she's willing to just drop her clothes. Anyways, I asked the guy if he was gonna join because he's just standing there and he says he doesn't do chicks but he'd be more than happy if I did him. Then the chick gets upset because she wants me to do her and I'm looking between these two babes wondering who the hell I'm gonna fuck first."

"I already know. You can't resist those pretty boys," Damon chuckled. Tyler smirked as he took another bite of pancake. His best friend knew him too well.

"So I tell the chick to get on her knees and I tell the guy to get on the bed. She sucks me for a while and it's alright but I really want to be in that sweet ass on the bed. So I tell the chick to sit back and relax and if I can borrow her dress. She doesn't even ask why, just hands it to me and gets on the bed and starts touching herself. So I grab the pretty boy and I tie him to the bed post and I get that lube you left in the drawers, you sly bastard."

Damon laughed at that, "Always good to be prepared."

"He's moaning and begging me to give it to him, so I fucked him hard and fast. He was really pretty Damon. I kind of wish I took a picture to show you."

"I'm sure I'll see him later," the raven-haired man chuckled. "What happened with the chick?"

"Well…I don't really remember," Tyler said sheepishly as he finished his pancakes. "I think I blacked out after I started fucking him the second time because I don't remember her getting off."

"You mean you had two people in your bed and you only fucked one of them maybe one time?" his friend asked incredulously. "You shame me Tyler."

"I'm sorry," he laughed. "I really shouldn't have done all that, considering I'm engaged and all."

"Has marriage ever stopped us from fucking around?" Damon snorted. "I'm pretty sure both the chicks I woke up next to were married to people I work with."

"But you only sleep with married women. Why is that?"

"The sex is hotter," Damon winked. Tyler laughed at his reasoning. He had questionable morals, but his best friend was notorious for pursuing married women. He claimed it was because they couldn't expect anything more from him.

"Besides, why would anyone stay faithful to your bitch of a fiancée? I don't even know why you're trying."

"You know what a pain in the ass her dad is," he shrugged as he finished his pancakes. "I'm trying to be good but it's hard when your inner circle is full of players."

"You included," Damon snorted as he poured another mimosa. A few people greeted them both when they stepped out of the house and bid them goodbye before leaving out the side gate.

"So were either of them the submissive type?" he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Tyler shrugged as he buttered a piece of toast.

"Not really. The girl was too wild and the guy wouldn't make it through one session with me."

"How do you know? You passed out before he did."

"He just wasn't right," he shrugged non-committedly.

"That's why we train them to be right," he rolled his eyes. "You're so picky. The whole point of getting a submissive is to train them to how you want to be. None of them are going to be good right away."

"I guess."

"So why the reluctance? You haven't dominated anyone since that Corey kid left. Whatever happened to him?"

"He went to some college in another country. He said it hurt too much to even be in the same city as me after I told him I didn't want a relationship. Can you believe that?"

"Well you did reject him. You know how submissives can be when their Dominant ends their contract."

"I told him when we first started the relationship that I couldn't be anything other than his Dominant and he was fine with it."

"Things change. Feelings become a factor in all Dom/sub relationships eventually."

"Not for me," Tyler snorted.

"Oh that's right, you don't do relationships," Damon rolled his eyes at him again.

"It's not just that. The whole love thing…not really my style," he popped a grape into his mouth. "Love is—"

"—overrated and ridiculous and bullshit, I get it," Damon waved his hand dismissively. "So what happened with the kid?"

"He told me he loved me, I told him I wasn't leaving my fiancée, then he called me a heartless dick and said he never wanted to see me again," Tyler shrugged. "I told him I would pay for his tuition when he said he was applying for schools, he refused, then he told me he hopes I'm alone and miserable for the rest of my life and he left."

"Wow."

"I didn't mean to hurt him. But I guess I wasn't too nice about it either. He wouldn't stop bugging me about being together and I got tired of hearing it."

"Maybe the media was right about you being a heartless dick," Damon laughed when Tyler kicked him under the table.

"I don't know what I did to deserve that title after everything I do for this city, hell even the country! I'm one of the nicest people I know."

"That doesn't mean shit since you're Richard Lockwood's son."

"They can kiss my ass. I get shit done, that's all that matters," Tyler shrugged as he finished his second mimosa. He threw his napkin on his empty plate.

"Thanks for breakfast," he mock-saluted him.

"That's it? You're just going to dine and dash?" Damon cried.

"I have work to do. Just because I'm not at the office doesn't mean I don't."

"That's just your excuse to eat my food and leave me bored all day. You only come over here to drink and party."

"And Alaric's cooking," Tyler laughed. "My Christmas party is in a couple of weeks, so you'll be getting an invitation in the mail today or tomorrow. If you don't, Stefan will have one."

"You would invite Stefan," Damon grinned wickedly. He rolled his eyes.

"We're friends. Of course I invited him," he smirked. "Did I mention Katherine's going to be there?"

He laughed when a slow predatory smirk spread across Damon's face.

"You didn't. I believe I'm available that day."

"Good. Later you crazy bastard," Tyler waved as he exited through the side gate. He hopped in his posh black Audi and took off for home at top speed.

When he arrived, he parked in the roundabout driveway in front of the fountain and walked up the three flights of stairs leading to his front door. The Lockwood Mansion was a vast piece of property, stretching across one and a half acres of land, making it the largest house in the city of Nivea. It had been his family for generations, so it went to him when his father died. His mother had been courteous enough to move out when he was twenty-one, finding a much smaller, more manageable house on the outskirts of District 1.

Tyler pushed the handle of one of the dark-wood doors with a glass center and it opened to the foyer with crème marble floors and a massive chandelier hanging in the direct center. He walked past the twin staircases into the sitting room, through the living room and to the bar. He smirked when he saw his sister sipping lightly from a green martini.

"Isn't it a little early to be drinking?"

"It is never too early according to you," Katherine Pierce's sharp brown eyes looked him over, one corner of her lips turning upwards into a half smile. "How was the party?"

"It was fun. You should've come."

"I was going to. But they insisted on getting rid of all the summer clothes," she pouted. "I was looking forward to it."

"Liar. You would've gotten bored and made an excuse to come home to Caroline."

She laughed lightly, "Oui, you do know me so well. How was Mr. Salvatore?"

"Missing you. He was disappointed when he couldn't find you," he laughed as he poured himself a shot of whiskey and drank it in seconds.

"I shall call him later. I have missed him," she murmured huskily. "Did you find another submissive? That is why you attended, no?"

He snorted as he sat beside her, "None of them were the submissive type."

"You are so picky. You could have any man or woman you please, yet you always find a problem with their looks or habits or vices. That is why we train them fit our desires."

"I know Kat. I just didn't connect with anyone," he sighed heavily. "Can't force it if it doesn't feel right."

"It has not felt right for 9 months now," her eyebrow rose. "And since when have you needed something to feel right for you to act? This is not like you."

He chuckled quietly as he poured himself another whiskey. It was difficult for him to find a submissive that he was actually interested in that he wanted to keep long-term. He hadn't felt the desire to care for one as he should. The ones he did find never stayed long, their undying love for him normally being the cause for the end of the contract. Even if he were interested in any of them, which he wasn't, he didn't have the luxury of pursuing a relationship with them since he would be married at the end of next summer.

"What is it you are looking for when you search for a submissive?"

"Someone who will give me complete control; someone who trusts the completely to care for them, to allow me to push their limits without expecting any more than that."

"Is this because of your…marriage?" her lip curled disdainfully. "I will never understand how you could agree to wed that pig. She disgusts me."

"So her dad can stop trying to take over my company. Bastard still believes he has a right to it," Tyler grumbled in irritation. "If I marry his daughter and give him 20%, at least I'll be able to have the final say in anything he does."

The Bulgarian beauty wrinkled her nose, "Yet he will still control a portion of it, while you are tied to that putte forever. She is classless, tactless and she has such juvenile tastes in fashion. The least she could do is dress appropriately for her age."

Tyler chuckled as he poured himself another shot.

"Mom's been trying to set you and Damon up. She was telling me how they had lunch the other day and she brought it up."

"He told me over the phone some days ago," she sighed as she looked into her drink and traced the rim of her martini glass. "Mother has told me she's approved."

"Have you told her…well, about…?"

"Non, so it is difficult to explain to her why I do not think it a good idea. Damon understands, of course, but he wants marriage. I can see it in his eyes when we speak on the subject."

Tyler refrained from commenting how ironic that was.

"I do not think marriage will ever be a right option for us. It would almost be like if you were to marry Stefan."

He snorted, "I would rather marry Stefan than Rebekah."

"As would I," she giggled as she finished the rest of her martini. "I am inviting my associates to the Christmas party next week. That is fine yes?"

"Yeah, just put them on the guest list. I'm trying to keep the list to 175 max. I don't want the house too crowded and alcohol is expensive."

"Of course. Oh, and I must tell you this: some of them are members of the kink community. A few are looking for a new Dominant, if you are interested in practicing again."

"Maybe," Tyler said with a small smile in her direction.

"You do not go this long without a pet."

"It's a dry spell," he sighed as he took another shot. "It'll pass."

"Do you miss Corey?"

Tyler shrugged, "Not really."

Katherine's sharp calculating eyes watched as he took another shot, the corners of her lips pulling down into a frown.

"What is bothering you chérie?" she murmured softly as she covered his hand with hers on the bar. "I do not like seeing you like this."

"Nothing," he murmured quickly, ducking his head when Katherine raised an eyebrow at him. "Nothing I won't get over."

"I know you better than that Tyler. Talk to me," her head cocked to the side, brown eyes full of concern. That look had made him spill all of his secrets, made him feel comfortable and secure with himself that he wouldn't be judged. Before he could answer his cellphone rang. Tyler groaned and pressed his iPhone to his ear.

"Yes?"

Katherine watched his expression subtly change from neutral to dark.

"I'll be there in an hour," he growled as he hung up.

"What happened?"

"Someone broke through the firewalls. They think they're trying to get information."

"Is it Mikael?"

"Probably. The bastard is smart too. He knows we won't be able to trace it back to him," he kissed Katherine on the cheek and walked out of the bar, calling over his shoulder, "If my mother comes by, tell her I'll be back for dinner."

Katherine sighed as she heard the front door close. Sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder how Tyler was going to handle marriage to Rebekah Mikaelson when they, and her father, clashed as horribly as they did. The union was a smart alliance between the families, two of the wealthiest in the country of Atteca, but she also saw how bitter her brother had become because of it.

She left her glass on the counter and walked up the winding elegant staircase to her room. A soft smile graced her lips as she saw Caroline still asleep in the same position she was in before she left. Quietly, she sat on her bed and threaded her fingers through smooth blonde hair. She was grateful that she was allowed to go into work whenever she pleased, for she had greatly missed her, and Caroline missed her too.

Jeremy sighed as he placed another heavy carton full of dirty dishes next to the sink and prepped them to be washed. Halfway through, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to face Megan, the head chef.

"Go take a break. You've been going since six this morning."

"Thanks," he smiled when she handed him a bowl of Caesar salad and a plate of the day's special. Exiting the kitchen, he found a table in the corner in the back and claimed it for himself. It was far enough from patrons to where he wouldn't be disturbed and close enough for him to return to the kitchen on short notice if needed. He was through part of his meal when a young woman slid into the seat across from him.

"Where's my free plate?"

"You have to pay for it," he chuckled, his brown eyes meeting the excited emerald ones of his best friend. "I thought your lunch break was later?"

"Amy swapped with me. I just couldn't wait to tell you this!" Bonnie Bennett beamed like it was Christmas morning. "You know Tyler Lockwood right?"

"Who doesn't? He owns this place and half the city," he snorted. He'd seen the billionaire come in before, along with half the city's female population. On television, he looked like a cold, emotionless carbon copy of his father, who was a popular, but ruthless businessman back when he was alive. He hoped to never meet him.

"He's absolutely gorgeous. So mysterious and handsome—I mean he could be a little taller but his style is just—!"

"Bonnie, focus," he laughed.

"Anyways, every year he hosts this huge Christmas party for his business partners, especially all the people who own businesses that are a part of his social networking website—"

"The one you work for, right?"

"Right! This is the biggest party of the year Jer. It's even bigger than those Oscar parties, but for people in the business world and oh my God the dresses and shoes and everything is to die for—!"

"Bonnie," he reminded.

"Right, so the party is legendary and its super exclusive; if you're not on their top-secret guest list then you don't make it through the door, which is pretty much the status of me and everyone I work with," she sighed enviously. "I don't think he's ever even been to our floor."

"I'm sure he has. He hired you, right?"

"I don't know, it was probably his secretary. So anyways, I'm sitting at my desk listening to the girls in the cubicle across from me talk about how people they know are invited every year and how they always try to get an invitation, and then Amy calls me over and says she hacked the guest list!" Bonnie squealed. "She got our names on it Jer! We're going!"

Jeremy's smile disappeared.

"What do you mean we?"

"You and me! Amy has to go to a funeral and she can't get out of it because it's her grandma, so I figure who better to bring than my best friend!"

"I can't," he said automatically. Bonnie's excitement immediately dimmed and he felt slightly guilty. "I have to work."

"You can take one night off! You work six days a week!"

"Because I'm broke," he deadpanned. "You know I'm not good with people. Parties freak me out."

"Come on Jer!" she whined. "Where's your sense of adventure? You can't work all the time and let life pass you by!"

"If there's a guest list, there's a good chance Tyler knows everyone that's on it. He's going to know we don't belong in there the minute we walk in the door."

"So does that mean you're in?" she beamed. He groaned inwardly.

"I'm not getting caught up in this," he muttered as he finished his lunch. "I have to get back to work."

"But—but think of all the opportunity!" she stood as he did. "Just think how amazing it would be to live like them! Haven't you wondered what a life of luxury is like?"

Every day.

He didn't answer her as he walked to the kitchen but this didn't deter the bouncing brunette. Unfortunately for him, he knew she wouldn't stop until he gave her the answer she wanted.

"You realize you could be fired for this?"

"And it'll totally be worth it! Please?" she pouted, her eyes growing wider and her lips poking out. Jeremy wished he would've looked away a little faster and not caught sight of the puppy dog face that usually made him cave.

"I promise I'll never ask you to go with me to these things ever again if you come this one time!"

"That's what you say about every company party you ask me to go to."

"But you've never actually gone to one with me, have you?" she gave him a pointed look. Jeremy averted his eyes.

"No, but—"

"So you have to come with me to this!" she grabbed his arm. "Just come with me to this one thing and I'll leave you alone, okay? We never hang out anymore because you're always here!"

Jeremy winced and the pleading in her voice. He felt a little guilty at always letting Bonnie down, but most times she wanted to hang out, she wanted to do something that made him uncomfortable, like be around people. His extreme phobia of being touched made it nearly impossible for him to be in crowded spaces for long periods of time, and Tyler Lockwood's party would be the perfect event to cause a panic attack. It hindered him from having a normal life and he knew it, but there wasn't much he could do. Therapy was expensive, as were self-help books, and, if truth be told, he was ashamed of himself for letting it progress this far. He had his reasons, but it was embarrassing all the same. And it was that longing to be somewhat normal that made him mutter his next words.

"I'll think about it."

He winced when Bonnie threw her arms around his neck and squealed in his ear, "You're the best! Thank you! You won't regret this, I promise!"

He highly doubted that, but he awkwardly returned her hug, reminding himself that Bonnie was his friend and that this type of contact was okay.

"It's next Saturday, so get that day off! I'll get you an outfit to match my dress—don't give me that look, it's not a big deal—and I'll have to get my hair and nails and—!"

"Isn't your break almost over?" Jeremy chuckled. She stopped mid-rant and gazed at her oversized watch.

"Crap, I forgot about Amy! I'll see you later Jer!" she hugged him quickly. "I'm so happy you're coming!"

Jeremy watched her run out the kitchen and chuckled to himself. Despite Bonnie's somewhat over-active personality, she made his world less dreary. When he was with her, he could pretend that he was a normal 19-year-old living in the city, with normal friends and a normal life instead of a dirt-poor orphan.

"Get to work," one of the cooks snapped at him as he dumped another bucket of filthy dishes in front of Jeremy. He stared at the new pile and wished to be anywhere but there.

Please review and let me know what you think! Thank you!