The music was louder now—one of those 90s tracks that made people reckless, bodies packed too close, laughter spilling too easily. Aurora Blackwood fit into it perfectly. Not on the sidelines. Not observing. Right in the middle of it. She was dancing with Caroline Forbes, head tipped back slightly, a lazy grin playing on her lips as she let the music take over. A glass of something strong was already half gone in her hand—bourbon, probably, because subtlety had never really been her thing. Caroline laughed, spinning once before leaning in. “You are way more fun than you looked earlier.” Aurora smirked, taking a slow sip. “I get that a lot. It’s a defense mechanism.” “Against what?” Aurora’s eyes flickered—brief, unreadable. “Myself.” But then it was gone, replaced instantly with something lighter. “Relax, Caroline,” she added, nudging her. “You’ll ruin my mysterious reputation.” Caroline rolled her eyes, smiling—and then her attention shifted past Aurora’s shoulder. “Oh,” she said, tone changing. “Well… that explains it.” Aurora didn’t turn immediately. She didn’t have to. That shift in the air again. That pull. Familiar. Annoying. Interesting. She sighed softly, already amused. “…how long have you been staring?” she asked, still facing forward. A beat. Then— “Long enough to be disappointed,” came the reply. Smooth. Effortless. Of course. Aurora turned slowly, taking her time—and there he was. Damon Salvatore, drink in hand, leaning like the entire party existed purely to entertain him. Her eyes dragged over him, deliberately slow. Assessing. Unimpressed. And then— She rolled them. There it was. Damon’s smirk deepened. “Miss me?” he asked. Aurora let out a quiet laugh, actually laughing, shaking her head as she took another sip. “Please,” she said. “You’re not nearly as unforgettable as you think you are.” Damon stepped closer. Of course he did. “Funny,” he murmured. “You used to have a much better memory.” Aurora tilted her head, stepping into his space instead of away from it. Matching him. Challenge accepted. “I remember enough,” she said lightly. “Just not the parts you’d like me to.” That hit. Not hard—but intentional. Damon’s eyes flickered with something sharper. “Careful,” he said. “You almost sound like you’re still holding a grudge.” Aurora smiled—slow, dangerous. “Oh, I am,” she said. “I just got bored of it.” A beat. The music pulsed around them, bodies moving, voices blending—but the space between them felt… isolated. Focused. Like everything else had blurred out. Damon leaned in slightly. Close enough now that it wasn’t accidental. “So what is this?” he asked quietly. “New town, new attitude, pretending you don’t care?” Aurora laughed under her breath. “Pretending?” she echoed, raising a brow. “Damon, I don’t have to pretend anything.” Her gaze dropped briefly—to his lips. Then back to his eyes. Deliberate. Calculated. A test. His jaw tightened just slightly. There it was. Finally. “Right,” he said. “Because this—” his eyes flicked between them “—screams indifference.” Aurora took another step closer. Now there was barely space left. “Maybe I just like the attention,” she said softly. Damon’s voice dropped. “You always did.” For a second— Something shifted. Not playful. Not sarcastic. Real. Dangerously close to something they weren’t supposed to touch. Aurora felt it. And instead of pulling away— She leaned in just enough that her lips almost brushed his ear. “You’re staring again,” she murmured. Damon exhaled slowly. “Can you blame me?” Her smile widened. Just slightly. And then— She pulled back. Of course she did. But not far. Never far. “Try harder not to,” she said, finishing her drink and setting the glass down behind her without looking. Damon watched the movement. Watched her. Every detail. Every shift. Every almost. “You could make that very difficult,” he said. Aurora shrugged. “I usually do.” A beat. Then she glanced past him—spotting Elena Gilbert and Stefan Salvatore nearby. Her lips curved, amused. “Your brother’s watching,” she said casually. Damon didn’t even look. “I don’t care.”