The morning dragged on.
When history class began, Aiken Hill slipped quietly into the classroom and made his way to the back, settling into a desk in the last row. He preferred distance—from the teacher, from the chatter, from people.
And, as if fate found that amusing, she was already there.
The witch girl from earlier.
She sat at the desk right beside his, in the last row, with a notebook open and a pen twirling slowly in her fingers. Her warm brown eyes flicked toward him briefly as he sat down, then quickly away again.
Aiken sighed.
Of all the seats...
He didn't speak. Didn't even glance in her direction after that. Instead, he leaned back, arms crossed loosely, eyes half-lidded but alert as the lesson began. The teacher launched into a monologue about the Founding Families of Mystic Falls, their legacy, the Civil War, and how the town's bloodlines ran deep.
Aiken barely listened.
He was too aware of the presence beside him—the low, rhythmic thrum of magic in her blood. It pulsed like a heartbeat, not loud, not threatening… but constant.
He was trying his best to ignore her... but her magic... it was calling him.
...
When the bell rang, Aiken was the first to stand.
He slipped his notebook into his bag, slung it over one shoulder, and headed for the exit. The day was over, and he had no plans to linger. He didn't care about clubs or cliques. He only cared about peace and distance.
But Mystic Falls had other ideas.
As he stepped out into the sunlit courtyard, Aiken's path crossed with hers again.
The witch girl.
She was laughing softly with a blonde girl—chatting, carefree. Her friend, dressed in a red dress, had long, flowing hair and an expression that could go from sunshine to stormcloud in a heartbeat.
And then it happened.
The witch turned—and walked straight into him.
Again.
"Sorry—" she started, but froze as soon as she saw his face.
It was him.
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She remembered exactly what he'd said earlier, before class. Could anyone forget being told off so coldly?
Aiken stared at her, unbothered. "Look where you're going," he said simply.
Bonnie winced.
But before she could answer, her friend immediately stepped forward, eyes narrowing.
"Hey!" she snapped. "Who do you think you are, talking to her like that?"
Aiken tilted his head slightly, more annoyed than impressed. "Hmm?"
"I said," Her friend repeated, stepping closer, "who the hell do you think you are?"
"No one," Aiken replied coolly. "I just gave her some advice. What would've happened if I was someone worse?"
His tone wasn't rude. It wasn't kind either. Just detached—like he was making a clinical observation.
Her friend looked like she was ready to explode.
"You—!"
She started to raise her voice, but Bonnie stepped between them, laying a hand on her friend's arm.
"Caroline, it's fine," Bonnie said gently, flashing a calm smile. Her embarrassment was gone. Replaced by curiosity.
She turned to Aiken with a subtle gleam in her eye.
"This guy's really something…" she thought.
Then, aloud: "Why don't I apologize to you with a couple of drinks? Tonight. At Mystic Grill?"
Aiken blinked.
Of all things, that wasn't what he expected.
"Ah?" he said, visibly taken aback.
"Bonnie!" Caroline hissed, scandalized. "Are you seriously asking him out? That guy's a total—!"
Bonnie just waved her off, smirking.
"So?" she said, ignoring the outrage beside her.
Aiken scratched the back of his neck. "Well… I don't know anyone here yet. It could be a way to make a few acquaintances."
"Acquaintances?" Caroline scoffed. "With that attitude of yours—"
Before she could finish, Bonnie clamped a hand over her mouth and dragged her back.
"It's settled then," she said to Aiken, voice light. "See you tonight."
...
That evening, Mystic Grill hummed with soft music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses.
In a corner booth, Bonnie Bennett sat across from a blonde-haired guy. Clean-cut, Matt Donovan wore a worn flannel shirt over a gray tee, his arms crossed as he leaned toward her. He had the easy charm of a quarterback, but tonight, his expression was clouded with unease.
"So… is she seeing someone?" Matt asked, his voice low but tense.
Bonnie raised a brow and gave him a small shake of the head.
"Oh, no," she said, taking a sip of her drink. "Don't drag me into this. If you've got something to ask Elena, raise your phone and call her yourself."
Matt groaned, slumping slightly.
"I feel uncomfortable calling her," he muttered. "She's the one who broke up with me."
Bonnie sighed, her voice softening. "Give her more time, Matt…"
And just as the words left her mouth, the door of Mystic Grill creaked open with a soft jingle.
Bonnie's eyes shifted toward the entrance—and paused.
There she was.
Elena Gilbert stepped inside. Pale skin, dark, straight chestnut hair, and a calm grace that drew eyes the moment she entered. There was a quiet sadness behind her eyes, something she tried to mask with a gentle smile. She wore a simple leather jacket and jeans, effortlessly elegant.
Beside her was a guy no one could ignore.
Stefan Salvatore—the school's newest mystery. Dark hair, sculpted features, and a calm, old-fashioned air that made him feel like he didn't quite belong in this century. There was something unreadable in his gaze, and yet it was oddly magnetic.
A hush fell over a few tables.
Most eyes turned toward them.
Especially Caroline Forbes, sitting at the bar with her chin in her palm, who couldn't stop staring at Stefan like he had just stepped out of a movie.
Matt followed Bonnie's gaze—and stiffened.
"More time, huh?" he muttered bitterly.
Then he stood and walked toward them.
Bonnie exhaled and sat back.
The crowd watched as Matt approached Stefan.
"Nice to meet you," Matt said, forcing a smile and offering his hand. "I'm Matt."
Stefan returned the gesture, his shake firm but measured. "Stefan."
Then Matt looked at Elena. Her eyes met his, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.
"Hey…" Elena greeted awkwardly, her voice small.
Before Matt could respond, a calm voice came from behind them.
"Ehm… sorry. Could I pass?"
They turned.
It was the other newcomer—Aiken Hill.
Bonnie's eyes lit up the moment she saw him.
"Oh! It's you."
She stood and approached him, leaving Matt and Elena in their awkward silence.
"Hi…" Aiken raised a hand, giving her a casual wave.
He looked around, unimpressed by the crowd and the tension hanging in the air.
Mystic Falls was far too dramatic for his tastes.
To be continued...
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