She stayed very silent, simply enjoying the feel of his arms around her as they swayed to muziki that was rather slow. All night they had played muziki that certainly fit the 1920s jazz decade. What strange coincidence that they should play a slower song the moment Damon showed up. She pulled back to glance into his eyes. “I was waiting for you.”
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“You knew I wasn’t coming.” he accused suspiciously.

“I know.” she shrugged. “But I waited anyway. It’s weird because I had a feeling you’d onyesha up. And wewe did. So look at that.”

“Yeah, well.” was all he said. His eyes scanned her outfit. “You look stunning, kwa the way. A true flapper.”

“And wewe would know all about flappers, then?”

“I did live through the 20s.” he reminded her, grinning like an idiot at his smart and witty remarks.

She nodded once before leaning her cheek against his koti, jacket once more. “I know.”

Elena imagined she looked rather odd there in his embrace. He, in his modern siku getup, and she in her 1920s costume. He, the older and mysterious Salvatore, brother of the boy she was once dating. To her classmates’ knowledge this looked perhaps innocent au slutty.. either way, Elena did not care what they thought.

“Do wewe realize we’ve made dancing a tradition?” he asked her suddenly.

“Mmm…you’re right.” she laughed, pulling her head back to smile at him. They moved together in sequence; like they had been dancing with each other all their lives. “So why did wewe need to talk to me?”

“I’ll just tell wewe later.” he replied.

“Tell me now.”

“Actually it was just an excuse to dance with you.” he smirked. “I don’t really have anything to tell you.”

“Damon!” she gasped. “You could of just asked me.”

“You would have alisema yes?”

“I’ll always say yes.”

“Even while wewe were dancing with Stefan?” he raised an eyebrow, pulling her close, mouth inches from hers. His eyes smoldered her; she felt like she was going to melt into a 1920s puddle.

“Y-yes.” she stammered.