"Matt, how much do you actually remember about what happened?" Now he sounded—torn. Sort of sharp, but puzzled.
"Um." Matt tried to think, turning the puzzle pieces around and around. "You mean about
how—stupid I was in the beginning?"
"No. I mean about what happened."
"I remember . . . it didn't hurt as much as I thought. Not when I figured out how to do it." Cautiously, Matt sat up, feeling the piece of damp cloth fall away from his forehead.
He was a little dizzy, but not sick. He could remember the pain and . . .
Suddenly, he was sharply aware of the and.
"Jeez."
No wonder his hands were shaky. His gut was shaky.
"Stefan?"
"Yes."
" We . . . we . . . didn't . . . "
"No." Stefan sounded much more like himself.
“Oh. Okay.”
“Okay? That’s all?”
Matt felt defensive. “Well, what do you want me to say? Thanks a lot for drinking my blood?” He made an effort. I appreciate the Coke.”
Stefan dropped his face into his hands. “I thought you would hate me.”
“Because of . . . but you warned me, didn’t you? I figured it was probably like that.
Like—like symbiosis or whatever it is. In biology, where the plant makes nectar so the bee gets pollen on it and takes it to the next plant. Right?” Stefan
“Well—well . . . not exactly. Vampires and humans aren’t natural symbiants. They haven’t evolved together and all too often the human ends up—“ He realized he should shut up. Telling Matt that humans usually ended up dead or as vampires too was just the opposite of a good strategy.
“Oh,” Matt said again. Stefan was too drenched in relief to find any fault with the conversation. He was gradually realizing that Matt didn’t have the fears for his masculinity that made overcompensation necessary. Matt knew he was male and straight the way he knew he was human and an omnivore that ate certain foods and didn’t eat others. He could force himself to take a bite of grass, or even, if the circumstances were drastic enough and survival was at stake, a bite of human flesh. But he wouldn’t worry afterward about becoming a horse or a cannibal for life.
Besides, Matt was a giver. Just as Elena had been. Something inside them compelled them to get involved in any situation, to try to make it better.
What Meredith had seen in the naked light of logic, and compelled herself to accept, what Bonnie had been able to follow as an adventure, Matt saw as an act of friendship, and an obligation between friends. Elena had always fulfilled her obligations, even to the undead.
Stefan was not human, but inhuman or not, he was Matt’s friend.
Matt was talking again. “Look,” Matt said. “You didn’t want to do this tonight. We made you. And maybe there was something . . . somewhere that made us.” Involuntarily, Stefan glanced up. Yes, he’d had the strong feeling of her presence here tonight, too. Elena. Still scheming from the spirit world. Elena couldn’t help him any longer with her blood, but that wouldn’t matter to her. She had three humans that she could still influence, and that was fine. It wouldn’t matter to her that Meredith got a bit of a shock or that Bonnie might be playing with fire, or even—well, she wouldn’t have done anything to destroy his friendship with Matt, but he hadn’t known that before.
Matt was going on. “But even though we did force you, you did everything you could for each one of us: three different personalities. No, don’t try to figure out if Meredith or Bonnie talked. I could tell. And Meredith is going to be a tough one for a while, isn’t she?” There were some things gentlemen didn’t talk about. But . . . “Meredith is tough,” Stefan said. “She’ll figure things out for herself and then I’ll do whatever she wants.
Assuming,” he added dryly, “I survive past tonight.”
“What do you think about your chances—now? Our chances, I mean.” Stefan shook his head, both to convey his opinion about his chances, and his opinion about Matt getting involved. But he tried to think about the question. Matt deserved that.
“I don’t know, but a lot better than before,” he admitted slowly.
“So if Elena did influence things, it might really make a difference.” It had better, Stefan thought, remembering Meredith and the naked fear in her eyes—