We'll Always Have Summer | Stefan Salvatore

Chapter Twelve

1993 — Mystic Falls, Virginia

   The first time she drove a car, Florence Gilbert had a panic attack. Her lungs tightened, her airway closed, her vision began to spin, her heart was out of control. The knuckles on her fingers were white from how hard she held to the steering wheel, and she swore she could hear the constant ringing right at her ears. Her father's harsh words were not helping, especially since he dismissed her anxiety and called her lazy. The first time she drove a car, Florence Gilbert decided never to drive one again.

   "We should stop reading our scripts," Stefan said. He laid next to her on the floor of her bedroom, arms resting in the back of his head, eyes closed, mouth smelling of mint.

   "You know it by heart, I still don't know it," she replied, trying to focus on the script on her lap instead of the boy next to her. Even as her eyes stayed on the pages full of doodles and pink highlighter, her mind wondered towards him, then her eyes would follow. Arms resting in the back of his head. Eyes closed. Mouth smelling of mint.

   Stefan opened his eyes and looked at her. "We can take a break." He pushed himself into a sitting position and let out a huff. "You've been at this since morning; you should take a break."

   "The play is next week," she sighed. "Mr. Marlowe's all up on my ass because I don't know this damn thing!" She let out a groan and squeezed the pages between her hands, crumpling them more than they already were. "I shouldn't have listened to Cher and gone to the auditions. I should have gone to practice like Dad told me." She rubbed her temples with her fingers.

   Florence was never one to speak in front of people, especially in front of all of the town that was anxious to see the daughter of Dr. Gerard Gilbert and the sister of Dr. Grayson Gilbert star in Mr. Marlowe's rendition of Romeo and Juliet. She could speak to a small group of people, her friends mostly, but even a class presentation in front of ten people made her feel all queasy. But, she would be acting in front of the town, in front of her parents, in front of her brother and sister-in-law, in front of Stefan—that made her want to vomit.

   A hand was neatly placed on her shoulder, its fingers giving her a gentle squeeze. "You'll be fine," Stefan said in a calm voice. "I'll be right there. And, if you somehow don't remember the lines, I'll mouth them to you."

   "I'm terrible at readings lips," she said with a sarcastic laugh escaping her lips. "I'm hopeless, Stefan! Can I just quit?"

   "Nope." He answered immediately, not wasting a second. "I can't let you do that, Flo. What if this is your calling, huh? What if you become this big Hollywood actress and end up marrying Leonardo DiCaprio?"

   A laugh escaped her lips, neat and loud, a scoff mixed in there. "Shut up," she told him when she quieted down, the smile still at her lips. 

   "I knew I could get you to smile," he said softly, his hand still on her shoulder. A couple of seconds later, his hand fell and he stood. "Come with me." He pushed both of his hands at her. 

    She stared at them, then at his face. "Where?"

   "You'll see." He wiggled his hands and smiled. Spring in his smile, summer in his eyes, mint in his mouth. 

   They walked down the stairs with Florence asking him where, Stefan smiling and not answering, Mrs. Gilbert in the living room with a book in her hand and an amused look in her eyes. Stefan's car was parked in front of her house, a familiar and comfortable picture to the young Gilbert girl. Inside, it was warm from the summer sun shining down on it, smelling of half-melted mint gum and the tree-style air freshener that had barely any scent there but still managed to get the car to smell new. It was a comfortable feeling for Florence, one that made her feel as if she belonged in the passenger's seat, eyes shifting from the road to Stefan to the the fast-passing trees.