“I don’t know what to say.” Was Damon madly in love? Yes. Did he care? Absolutely not. “Or do, or think.” It’d just been one kiss, right? One incredibly, intoxicatingly sexy, hot kiss. “But all I know— all I know,” Shit, he was backing you up against the school lockers in the empty hall, “is that right now, I wanna rip your clothes off in the middle of this hall, throw you into one of these empty classrooms and kiss every square inch of your body while a bunch of people that drive minivans listen, wishing they were us.” That came out so breathless.

Yeah, it was a little forward after just one kiss, but he couldn’t help it, not when he’d had one hit of your lips and wanted it all. It didn’t help that he was fucking in love with you to the point where he couldn’t think straight, that he wanted to fuck you right in this school.

Shit again.

“Fuck.” His head dipped as his lip caught between his teeth— he probably couldn’t play ‘hot TA’ while in a high school, could he? Shame, cause he’d love to have you as a teacher, god damn. Ah, no, screw your head on straight, Salvatore, you’re in a high school.

Oh well, maybe someday.

Damon couldn’t hold back the sigh, cause why does a school have to be such a cockblock? Jesus, there’s no culture anymore, c’mon. Especially when you were lookin’ all breathless with dilated pupils— oh, he liked what that meant. “That’s a bad idea, right?”

He liked that look very much, and your flushed, pretty cheeks. Didn’t help that the sweater on you had what he liked to call a revealing neckline, the view was very nice from here— not the time. Or maybe— nope. C’mon, this was torture, even though it was a singular kiss.

What if it didn’t mean anything? God, that’s a bad thought.