The phone lit up again.

Damon.

You didn’t even hesitate this time — just pressed the red circle and locked the screen. Again.

“Persistent,” you muttered, slipping your phone back into your pocket as you crossed the street toward the Mystic Grill. The chill in the air nipped at your jacket collar, but you were used to it — the cold never bothered you much.

It had been two weeks since that night outside the Grill. Two weeks since he’d followed you out back just to say, “You’re not like the others.” Whatever that meant.

You hadn’t responded. Just walked past him, jaw tight.

And since then — the calls started.

Late at night. Mid-shift. Once even during class. No voicemails, no texts. Just that name flashing on your screen.

You weren’t afraid, not exactly. But you didn’t like him. His smile was too perfect, his eyes too unreadable. And there was something about him that put your instincts on edge, like standing too close to fire you couldn’t see.

At the Grill, Bonnie met you at the door. “Hey, you okay? You look—tense.”

You forced a smile. “Just tired.”

Bonnie narrowed her eyes. “He’s still calling, isn’t he?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

“Elena says he’s trying to be better.” Bonnie rolled her eyes. “But honestly? I don’t trust that guy.”

“Good,” you said, slipping into the booth beside her. “Because I’m not giving him the chance.”

Outside, a black car idled down the street.

Inside, you laughed at something Caroline said.

And your phone buzzed in your pocket again.

Damon.

This time, you didn’t even look. Just let it ring — and ring — until silence returned.

You didn’t owe him your attention.

Not then. Not yet.

But you had no idea how long he could wait.