New York || Damon Salvatore [1]

Chapter Seven

1976 — Provincetown, Massachusetts

   The only Thanksgiving dinners Damon had ever attended were the ones when he was human. He used to go to the Lockwood home with half of the town, dance and joke around with his brother, and flirt. After he turned into a vampire, Damon never attended a Thanksgiving dinner. He spent his Thanksgivings alone, drinking a beer, watching TV, eating a human girl that fell for his charms. It was the first time he had spent the infamous Thanksgiving with someone other than his family, someone he preferred to keep alive.

   Damon sat in the living room with Frederick, Arthur, and Detective Thomas Howell. Thomas was Rohan's fiancé, the man she would marry in the summer. He arrived early in the morning from Pennsylvania, which was where they were planning to move and raise a family at. Whilst they watched a football game—the Cardinals were having a bad time against the Cowboys—Damon could smell the food coming from the kitchen. He could hear the women speaking, giggling, talking about who was coming and gossiping. Freya's voice was distinguished from the rest, soft and sweet and filled with enjoyment. He hadn't heard her sound so happy since he met her, and he thought that maybe it had to do with the fact that she was home, surrounded by family.

   "Oh!" Frederick and Arthur yelled at the television, throwing their hands in the air.

   "Why did he miss that?" hissed Frederick as he pulled his hair.

   Detective Howell let out a short laugh. "See, you can't defeat America's team."

   "The game's not done, Thomas," Arthur said, laughing. "Just wait till the end. We'll see who's America's team, then."

   Once again, Detective Howell laughed. "We'll see, Arthur."

   Damon cleared his throat and stood. "Anyone want another beer?" he asked, looking around at the three men that sat around him. All three raised their hands, and Arthur told him to bring another bowl with chips. Damon nodded and walked back to the kitchen with an empty bowl and three empty bottles of beer. Ioanna, Helena, Rohan, and Freya were moving all around the kitchen, a soft song playing on the radio.

   "Damon," Ioanna chuckled. "I said no one in the kitchen while we're cooking."

   "Uh, we need more beers and chips," he said, laying everything on the table and smiling at the woman.

   "More beer?" Helena chuckled and crossed her arms. "You're going to be drunk before dinner starts."

   "I have a high alcohol intolerance," he said, smirking. He gave Freya a quick wink then looked back at Helena and Ioanna.

   Ioanna let out a soft laugh and nodded. She grabbed everything and handed it to him with a stern yet amused look in her eyes. He thanked her quietly and with a nod, then walked back to the living room where the three men were staring intently at the game. With a soft sigh, he handed out the beers and set the chips on the coffee table.

   Damon felt awkward sitting between Arthur and the famous Detective Howell. How could he not? He was between people he didn't really know, and one of them he just met in the morning. Damon couldn't help but study the man as he leaned back on his chair. Thomas Howell wore a simple shirt and sweater combination and jeans, yet he seemed too well-dressed, which indicated that he had money. His dark hair was low-cut, professional, and Damon could see he had cut it recently. The man seemed too well-dressed for a simple Thanksgiving meal, but he couldn't whine, he too had to be well dressed for the dinner.

   During the next few hours, the house began to fill with family members from all over the world. They all greeted each other with loud hellos, big hugs, and kisses on the cheeks. Damon was one of those victims that earned quite a few big hugs and kisses on the cheek, especially from Great Aunt Madeline and Cousin Christine. Great Aunt Madeline took his hand, then squeezed his cheeks tightly between her fingers, and laid yet another big kiss on his cheek.