Sarah answered the door nervously wiping her sweaty palms on her black jeans before opening it.

Demetrio stood in the doorway looking at her. He was even sexier than she remembered. "Hi," he said with a smile that nearly had her melting into the floor.

"Hi, Demetrio," she said nervously.

"Can I come in?" he asked gesturing to the apartment. Not that he hadn't ever been in there before, as a human, but it was nice to be asked. By carrying him in as a pup she had in essence "invited him in". Vampires had to be asked in otherwise they couldn't physically enter a house or building unless they were really old and/or really powerful. Powerful meaning, either they had supernatural powers at a high level such as his, or stronger, like Salvatore.

Regular vampires could be asked in by anyone, including any other vamp, as long as such vamp either lived or owned said establishment. An invitation could be anything as subtle as a gesture, even if it wasn't necessarily intentional, but if one was made it was an open invitation that could not be taken back. Invitations meant a lot to a vampire. Especially, if the one offering it knew they were doing so to a vampire. It showed trust. And among vampires there wasn't much of it going around. Of course, public establishments were fair game and vampires didn't need an invitation unless for some reason a witch had set a seriously heavy protection spell over it.

"Of course, come on in," she said holding the door wide for him to enter.

He stepped in looking around trying to make it look like he was seeing it for the first time. "Nice place."

She shrugged. "It's ok," she said watching him look over her things. He was in black jeans like her and again a black tee-shirt with this time a black leather jacket over it. He wore black boots like he had at the club the night before. She wondered if he owned any other color than black. She, on the other hand, was wearing a flowing white poet's blouse and even though he said no heels, she had on black strappy sandals with a slight heel.

"You look nice," he said taking her in.

"Thanks," she said blushing.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Uh, yeah. Is it chilly out?" she asked looking at his jacket.

He shrugged. He never felt the cold or the heat. He had seen a few people out with jackets so he put one on to keep up appearances. "A little."

"Ok," she said and went to the hall closet. She pulled out a black leather jacket. Not to match him but to match her jeans as it was the only black jacket she had.

"My kind of girl," he said stepping behind her to help her put it on. "It's not Italian though," he said feeling the collar between his fingers.

"I can't afford it on my budget," she said zipping it up. "So, where to?" she said avoiding the subject knowing from the bartender that he was pretty wealthy.

"Nope. It's a surprise. Well, at least, I hope you will be," he said taking her hand and led her to the door.

"Wait! Trey. My dog, Trey. I have to make sure he's okay before we go."

"I'm sure he's fine," Trey said trying to sound not concerned that she was going to find her precious puppy missing and therefore ruining their date. He could just imagine them spending the rest of the night searching the city for the missing pooch.

"It'll just be a minute. I saw him go under the bed awhile ago."

Trey nodded and leaned on the door. He watched her walk down the hall. "Damn," he muttered. He hated this part.

Sarah peeked under the bed. She saw Trey sound asleep behind one of her slippers. She sighed, a happy sigh of relief, and headed back down the hall. "He's fine," she said and stopped finding Demetrio pulling himself up off the floor.

"What happened?" she exclaimed worriedly; rushing over to help him up.

"I got abit lightheaded is all. I'm fine."

"You sure?" She asked.

"Yeah," he said with a smile. All I did was a little astral projection into an animal form and then went back into my body in a matter of seconds is all. Nothing to worry about at all, he thought to himself keeping up strong blockers so she couldn't read what he was thinking.

"Okay, if you're sure," she said following him out into the hallway of the building. "Can you drive?"

"Sure. I just have low blood sugar. I'll be fine once we eat dinner," he explained.

"Oh, okay," she said taking his offered arm.

"By the way," he said turning to her and kissed her lightly on the lips, "I missed you."

She blushed and tucked a long strand of blonde hair behind her ear nervously.

He looked at her curiously. She looked so much like Sam yet they were so different. Sam hadn't blushed like this when they had kissed. In fact, Sam initiated it. Hell, he didn't think Sam even knew how to blush. He found it terribly endearing in Sarah. He tucked the other side of her hair behind her other ear.

"I missed you too," she said quietly.

"I promise I won't bite you," he said putting a hand around her waist and pulled her to him. "Unless you want me to," he added with a mischievous grin.

Her heart jumped at the look in his eyes. His eyes had grown dark. Once a light honey brown they were now an intense maple syrup. What she saw in his eyes was so unlike what she'd seen in other boys' eyes. This was no boy. He was a man and he was an experienced man. She didn't know how she felt about that.

"Sarah?" he asked looking her over curiously. "Are you alright?"

She nodded.

"I'm not going to do anything that you don't want me to do. I know we just met. You don't know me very well. But trust me on that, ok? I know I move a little fast, and I'll try to slow it down. I just want to spend some time with you. Kissing or no kissing. Touching or no touching. Though, they both can be really fun," he said winking. "Just tell me to stop if you're uncomfortable and I'll stop."

"I'm not uncomfortable," she protested worried that he thought she was a prude for getting all bent out of shape for one quick kiss on the lips.

He took her chin in his hands. "No?" he asked. She shook her head. He leaned down and kissed her lightly again. "Now?" he asked pulling back to studying her face. She shook her head again. He smiled and pulled her in closer and kissed her more passionately. His hands went up her back into her long hair. He pulled away looking at her seriously, "Promise me that you'll never cut it."

"What?" she asked breathless and stunned that he'd stopped kissing her so fiercely and was able to form sentences.

"Your hair. Don't cut it. Ever."

"Okay," she agreed with a slight laugh. She didn't understand why; but he if asked her not to cut her hair she didn't see the harm in not cutting it.

"Let's go before we really put a show on for your neighbors," he said taking her hand.

She blushed as he pulled her past an older couple who were climbing up the stairs.

She settled herself in the seat of his Porsche. A Porsche! She was sitting in a Porsche! Not that she was into material things. But boy, it must be nice, she thought closing her eyes and smelling the real leather of the seats.

She hardly felt the car move and she couldn't believe it when she felt a light kiss on her cheek and she opened her eyes to him telling her that they had arrived.

"I fell asleep?!" she exclaimed pulling herself upright not believing that she had fallen asleep in such an expensive seat, that she was afraid to sit in for fear of that she would wrinkle it, even though it was leather and couldn't wrinkle. And not believing that she was sitting next to the most gorgeous guy on the planet who just happened to, for some strange reason, like her?

"It's okay," he said brushing her cheek with his thumb. "I don't mind."

"God," she said putting a hand to her forehead. Again, she had felt like she had the best sleep in her life. And she had needed it. For the past year she had hardly slept at all. "I feel like such an idiot! We're on a date and I fall asleep."

He smiled pulling his key out of the ignition. " It just shows that you trust me. I could have driven you off anywhere."

She looked out the window into darkness. "And you did..." she said a tiny bit afraid that she couldn't see anything and he could indeed have taken her anywhere and done anything to her.

"I did," he said with a smile. He got out of the car and rushed to her door as she opened it for herself.

He muttered something she couldn't understand. Italian?

"What?" She asked taking his offered hand to help her out of the car.

"I said that American men have made it so women don't expect a gentleman."

"Huh?"

"You opened your own car door," he explained closing it behind her.

"Um, yeah, I did..." she said with a frown looking at it.

He muttered in Italian again. "Never mind," he said taking her hand and threading it through his arm. "I told you not to wear heels. There was a reason," he said as her heels were sinking in the mud. "Be careful," he said leading her into the woods.

"Just where are we going?" she asked with a slight gulp of her throat. She trusted him, she trusted him, she told herself. Surely, this psychic thing, or whatever it was of hers, would tell her if he was planning to slice her up into tiny pieces.

He stopped walking, turned and held her shoulders. She couldn't see a damn thing. She swallowed again hard.

"Just listen," he said softly.

She did. She heard the faint muttering of people talking. And music?

"If I wanted to kill you I would have done so while you were sleeping in the car," he muttered pulling her forward.

"What?" she demanded trying to keep up with him without tripping over some small rocks and tree branches. "Demetrio," she called trying to slow him down.

"Sorry," He muttered slowing down.

"Why did you say that?" she asked nervously.

"Say what?"

"About...not..."

"Killing you? I don't know. You just got all tense. I figured that must be what you were thinking with me dragging you through the woods in the middle of the night."

"It's only seven o'clock," she pointed out to reassure him that she didn't think he would kill her.

He laughed slightly. "Come on," he said pulling her further through the woods.

They made it to a clearing and she gasped as they stepped out onto a huge lawn. To their left a ways down was a huge stage with an orchestra warming up. People were sitting in chairs in front of the stage as well as spread out all over the lawn on blankets. Many of them had a picnic dinner spread out before them.

"Is this the Outwoods Theatre? I've heard about this place!" she exclaimed excitedly and followed him as he crossed the lawn.

"Yes," he said continuing to walk. "I took the back way. The feeway was backed up for another hour. We would have missed the concert," he said walking over to an usher. He pulled out two tickets from the inside of his jacket pocket and handed them to the guy.

"Sorry," she muttered feeling horrible that she thought he was going to kill her in the woods instead of bringing her to a nice outdoor concert.

He didn't reply but instead went over to an older man that sat by himself on a blanket with a closed picnic basket on top of it.

"Grazie, Gio," Demetrio told him helping the man up. The man spoke softly to him in Italian. He turned to Sarah taking her hand and smiled at her brightly while rambling on to Demetrio in Italian."He says that you are very beautiful and don't deserve a scoundrel like me," Demetrio told her with a smile and sat down on the blanket casually. Gio let go of Sarah's hand and ruffled Demetrio's curly hair before walking away.

"Who is he?" she asked watching him walk away as she slowly sat down next to Demetrio.

"An old family friend," he said turning to the basket and opened it up. "Wine?" he asked pulling out a bottle of red.

She shook her head. "I'm underage." she bit her lip as that had sounded so childish. "Not that I don't drink. Just not in public. Where I could get caught. By an usher or something."

He looked around. "Right. Maybe later," he said setting it to the side. He pulled out some Tupperware containers and then handed her a fork. The basket seemed never ending with containers and wrapped up food. He did pull out some sodas which she gratefully took one as he poured himself a glass of red wine.

"So, who's playing?" she asked and took a drink. She watched him watching the stage as if he was looking for someone he knew.

"Parthenon"

"Parthenon?" she asked lowering her soda can to stare at him."They're my favorite. How did you know?"Sarah gushed.

He shrugged again looking to the stage. "They're my favorite also," he said and when she continued staring at him, "I already had tickets," He shrugged because he couldn't admit that he knew she liked them.

"Oh," she said taking another drink to calm her nerves. Of course he already had tickets. Why would he buy them especially for her knowing that they were her favorite? Okay, he didn't know that. He didn't even know her; but if he did, it would have been nice if he had thought to bring her because he knew that she liked them rather than he already had the tickets and just needed someone to come with.

"I..." he started.

"What?" She asked.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "We need to talk later, Sarah," he said with a sigh.

"Okay. About what?"

About my being able to read your thoughts. And that he had bought the tickets for her because he knew she liked them by the cds she owned. He shook his head as the conductor took the stage. "Later."

She enjoyed the music as well as the feast that he had prepared. Most likely, his cook had prepared, she thought, since he was wealthy he was sure to have one. She doubted he'd made it himself. He didn't seem like the type to be behind a stove all day. And the food was like heaven. She noticed he barely ate though. She slowed down her eating even though she was enjoying it more than any other food she'd ever eaten.

She noticed his body tense as another piece started. Anonymous. The orchestra had many numbers that someone who was only known to the world as Anonymous had written and sent to them. They continually received music, strangely from all over the world. No one knew who it was or why they didn't want any recognition. The music was phenomenal. It was a new style of music blending in old, classical music with the new sound of pop and rock, but instrumental. It was used in a way that pulled at every emotional string that anyone could have. This one was one that could put you in a real bad mood.

"Oh geez," Demetrio said falling back on the blanket in a lying position and put and arm over his eyes.

"It's a little depressing, isn't it?" she asked not caring that he wasn't eating any dessert and just grabbed a big slice of chocolate cake. If she was going to be depressed she might as well indulge in chocolate cake. Well, anything chocolate would do.

He grunted under his arm. "They couldn't have picked something else?" He mumbled from under his arm a few moments later.

She plucked a program from the side of the basket were he slipped it in when they first sat down. "There's a happy one next."

"Thank God. Which one?"

"Bella."

He muttered in Italian.

"What? It's happy."

He lifted his arm to look at her eating cake. He laughed.

"What?" She asked.

"Nothing," he said sitting up and picked up a piece of cake for himself.

"This is delicious. You have to get the recipe for me," she said between chews.

He laughed, "Sorry, family secret," he said with wink and a shake of his head.

"What? Who made this?" she asked looking up from slicing the cake with her fork to study him.

"Who do you think?" he asked leaning in.

She stared at him in disbelief. "You?! You made this?!"

"Is that so hard to believe?" he asked lifting an eyebrow as he poked a fork in his cake and shoved a piece in his mouth.

She looked around at the many containers now nearly empty all just as delicious as the cake. "You made everything?" she asked in an almost whisper.

"Except the wine. I can't say I stomped on the grapes myself. Or, the soda. I'm not that good with chemicals," he said with a smile.

She leaned over and quickly kissed him lightly on the lips. "Thank you," she said teary eyed.

He wiped at her eyes. "It was nothing really."

She shook her head. "No one has ever done anything like this for me before."

"It's just food," he said with a light smile.

"It must have taken you all day."

He shrugged. "What better things have I got to do?"

She kissed him again.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down until she laid next to him her head on his shoulder.

"You're just crying because of the depressing song," he said after a minute.

The next number thankfully was a happy song and pulled them quickly out of the depression.

She shook her head. "No. Really, Demetrio. It was really thoughtful of you. And the concert. I love everything."

"Why do you keep calling me Demetrio? It's okay to call me Trey, you know. Everyone does."

"Um...I guess, because of the, um, dog..."

He laughed his chest rumbling pleasantly under her cheek.

"Sorry!" she said embarrassed putting a hand to her face.

"Don't be. I'm honored that you named your dog after me."

She swatted his arm. "I had him before I met you."

"Did you?" he asked smiling like she had met him first.

"Yes."

"Hmmm," he said non-committaly and closed his eyes again.

"What do you think of when you hear this song?" she asked him. She felt his heart jump beneath her. It had been at a very slow rate, in fact, she had hardly heard it until it jumped and began to pick up pace.

"Why?" He asked quietly.

"Just wondering. Your face...I don't know..." she didn't know how to tell him that he looked sad though it was a happy song.

He didn't comment to that. "What do you think of?"

"Hmmm... I don't know. I guess, like, the world is a beautiful place. Nothing could go wrong."

"Funny, huh," he muttered.

"What?"

"How wrong it is."

"That's pretty cynical of you don't you think?"

"The world isn't a pretty place and things do go very, very wrong."

She snuggled into his shoulder. "I know; but it's nice just to forget for a little while."

"Does this music help you forget? Just for a little while?"

She nodded.

He put a hand to her head and stroked her hair. "I'm glad."

"You didn't answer my question. What do you think of when you hear this?"

He was quiet.

"Demetrio?"

"That I was at a high, joyous, place and nothing could knock me down," he said and though his words were positive he said them like his comment before. Cynically. Almost laughing at himself for thinking he could be happy.

She frowned. "Why do you sound sad about it? It's a happy song."

He pulled himself up and looked at the orchestra. He was quiet as they shuffled their music getting ready for the next song. He looked deep in thought. He looked around at the people sitting around on picnic blankets with their families, their girlfriends or boyfriends, they were all talking and laughing and having a good time.

"It is a happy song," he finally said with a slight smile. "It lives in its moment, repeating itself over and over in this one song that this orchestra plays, that people play on their cds, so that one happy moment can live on forever. Damn, that's something isn't it?"

She smiled. "Yeah. It is."

He smiled again; but she noticed that his smile actually reached his eyes this time. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Making me see that."