He was right. Elena wouldn't have answered if he'd been polite about things instead of just doing his angel-teleport thing. It was the best way to go about it, to corner her so they could actually talk, though she wasn't sure how civilized it would be. At least they could both get it all out. Elena wasn't sure if that was good or bad, but she stayed quiet, crossing her arms over her chest on the couch, swallowing a lump in her throat.
"Fine. We can talk," the girl finally managed, glancing over at him for a split second. She was thinking about how they used to be friends, how much she just wanted to run away from the pain. She also thought about her parents, what kind of advice her mother would give her.
"I didn't expect you would be sorry. Why else would you go behind my back, not once, but twice? I'm disgusted, and not because Damon slept with a guy, but because...we were friends. Because almost every night I've shared his bed, we've made love, and he was with--" She stopped talking and pressed her lips together in a line, thinking she might suddenly start crying again.