Ava's Point of View
For a few seconds, I just stand there, my brain struggling to catch up with what is happening.
Because Damon is kissing me. Actually kissing me.
Not glaring at me, not arguing with me.
Not telling me to stay away from him, jot pretending that whatever this thing is between us doesn't exist.
He is kissing me, hard and desperately, like he has finally snapped.
My back is pressed against the wall and one of his hands is gripping my waist while the other tangles into my hair.
I smell the alcohol on him and I realize that he is just as drunk as I am, maybe even more.
I should push him away.
I should demand answers.
I should demand to know what the hell he is thinking.
I should demand to know why he keeps pulling me closer only to shove me away again.
But another
