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The Grill was filled with the Saturday lunch crowd, a relatively pleasant atmosphere buzzing with noise and energy. Of course, Damon liked to throw a little chaos into the mix by compelling our waitress to mess up her orders and bring him refills to the detriment of her other tables.
“Cut it out, Damon,” Stefan hissed across the table.
“You’re gonna get her fired,” Elena added in a low voice, watching the girl’s confused and distressed face.
Damon rolled his eyes—as if that were a reason for him to stop messing with someone—but he released his hold on her. “She’s on the road to unemployment anyway,” he claimed, “if she can’t even get a simple pasta order right.”
It was true, the girl had brought me spaghetti with meatballs when I had specifically asked for just noodles and red sauce. I didn’t bear her any particular ill will, however—the meatballs were easy enough to pick out and now rather awkwardly adorned Elena’s salad across the table.
“So are you guys gonna be studying for the bio exam this weekend?” I asked Elena and Stefan to change the subject. I put my hand on Damon’s thigh under the table to prevent any cracks about ‘helping us learn anatomy.’ Sometimes it was the simple things that kept him occupied.
Elena sighed with resignation. “Yeah, I really have to hit the books,” she admitted. “I’m just having a lot of trouble memorizing all the terms.”
“See, it’s more important to learn the terms in context,” Stefan began reasonably, “rather than just memorizing for the sake of—“ Damon’s snort of mockery turned into a groan as I squeezed his thigh, then turned into a cough to cover it up. Stefan gave him a strange look but carried on. “—for the sake of memorizing them.”
“I agree,” Elena told him conditionally, “but unfortunately that’s not how Moreau does her tests—it’s all gonna be matching, no partial credit.”
“Which is why,” Stefan finished, “I made you some flashcards.”
Elena melted a little. “You did?”
“All two hundred terms,” Stefan nodded, in his modestly proud way.
They were really so cute together. “G-d, you’re such a dork,” Damon declared, unable to restrain himself any longer. Well, there was only so much I could do in public.
Elena narrowed her eyes at her boyfriend’s brother—who had definitely issued worse insults—and then asked me sweetly, “Do you want to come over and study with us, Daisy? Or does Damon have big plans for your birthday?”
Damon choked on his drink. “Birthday?” he repeated in surprise.
I smirked a little as I ate my pasta. Elena and I had been laughing about the subject in the ladies’ room earlier and I had a feeling it would come up again, in a retaliatory way.
“Wait a minute,” said Stefan in mock confusion, “did you forget your girlfriend’s birthday?”
Damon narrowed his eyes at the rest of us. “No, I did not forget,” he said defensively, “because obviously a massive conspiracy prevented me from ever knowing about it in the first place.”
“You did realize she had birthdays, though, right?” Stefan poked lightly.
“It’s okay,” I told him, not wanting Damon to get too much grief over it. “I’m not really big on birthdays.”
“Oh, come on, we have to do something,” Elena insisted pleasantly. “I mean, you don’t get anything new legally at seventeen, so we should—“
Damon choked on his drink again. “You having problems today?” Stefan asked him, all deadpan concern.
Damon coughed a little more to clear his throat. “No, I’m fine, thank you,” he replied. “Say, does anyone know the age of consent in Virginia? Just curious.”
“Well, if you have to ask…” Elena remarked pointedly.
“It seriously never occurred to me that you would have a birthday,” Damon admitted to me, “or an age.”
I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “That’s okay. I’m an old soul.”
“Aren’t we all,” he replied darkly.
“I’m not getting you anything for your birthday,” Damon told me as we walked home.
“That’s okay.”
“Since you deliberately concealed it from me.”
I smirked. “That’s okay.” He seemed to want me to be irritated by his declaration, or maybe he just expected it. But frankly birthdays didn’t hold much interest for me. “My mom and grandma are taking me out to dinner for my birthday tomorrow night,” I informed him. “You’re invited.”
“I’ll pay,” he said immediately.
I curled my hand around his arm with a smile. “In that case, let’s go to Torzelli’s,” I suggested. “Would you wear a tie for me?” He growled under his breath. “Please?”
“Fine,” he agreed ungraciously. “Only because it’s your birthday,” he added, as though he suspected this whole thing was just a hoax.
“You’ll look very gentlemanly,” I persuaded. “Maybe someone important will see you.”
He gave this some thought. “Maybe I’ll wear a jacket, too,” he decided.