The sight of Damon in the doorway almost made Elena cry. Why did she have to be so completely in love with such a massive, self-loathing dick? And why did he always make her feel weak at the knees, even when she was so determined to be pissed at him?
Her eyes followed Damon as he crossed the room. Really? He was going to prioritise coffee right now? As repayment, she lowered her eyes to resolutely stare down at her own cup, her hands wrapped around the warm ceramic sides. How could he walk in just like nothing had happened, like they'd fought over what to watch on TV or which football team to cheer on in the AFL. He had walked away, again, even though he had promised never to leave her again. He knew what she had been through and still he had chosen to walk away. That deserved more than a Hey.
However, when Damon started talking, explaining, she almost wished they could go back to the awkward silence. She could feel the tears pooling in her eyes, as much as she tried to keep her chin set in a firm, angry line. When he turned her face towards him, she could feel them starting to leak down her cheeks in hot, frustrated lines.
"I don't remember what you said, Damon," she replied, her voice cracking. "I just remember running into your arms and knowing that was the only place I ever wanted to be." The accusation was clear in the tone of her voice, her gaze just as intense as his.