Read Stefan's Diaries 1 - Origins for Free Online Page B

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    Katherine stood at the study entrance, wearing a simple, white silk dress that hugged every curve of her body. Allthe other women at the party were wearing layers of crinoline and muslin, their skin guarded under thick fabric. But Katherine didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed by her exposed white shoulders. Out of propriety, I glanced away.
    “Why aren’t you at the party?” I asked, bending to pick up my book.
    Katherine stepped toward me. “Why aren’t you at the party? Aren’t you the guest of honor?” She perched on the arm of my chair.
    “Have you read Shakespeare?” I asked, gesturing to the open book on my lap. It was a lame attempt to change the conversation; I had yet to meet a girl versed in his works. Just yesterday, Rosalyn had admitted she hadn’t even read a book in the past three years, ever since she had graduated from the Girls Academy. Even at that, the last volume she’d perused was merely a primer on how to be a dutiful Confederate wife.
    “Shakespeare,” she repeated, her accent expanding the word to three syllables. It was an odd accent, not one that I’d heard from other people from Atlanta. She swung her legs back and forth, and I could see that she wasn’t wearing stockings. I tore my eyes away.
    “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”
    she quoted.
    I looked up, astonished. “Thou art more lovely and more temperate,” I said, continuing the quote.
    My heart galloped in my chest, and my brain felt as slow as molasses, creating an unusual sensation that made me feel I was dreaming.
    Katherine yanked the book off my lap, closing it with a resounding clap. “No,” she said firmly.
    “But that’s how the next line goes,” I said, annoyed that she was changing the rules of a game I thought I understood.
    “That’s how the next line goes for Mr.
    Shakespeare. But I was simply asking you a question. Shall I compare you to a summer’s day?
    Are you worthy of that comparison, Mr. Salvatore?
    Or do you need a book to decide?” Katherine asked, grinning as she held the volume just out of my reach.
    I cleared my throat, my mind racing. Damon would have said something witty in response, without even thinking about it. But when I was with Katherine, I was like a schoolboy who tries to impress a girl with a frog caught from the pond.
    “Well, you could compare my brother to a summer’s day. You’ve been spending a lot of time with him.” My face reddened, and instantly I wished I could take it back. I sounded so jealous and petty.
    “Maybe a summer’s day with a few thunderstorms in the distance,” Katherine said, arching her eyebrow. “But you, Scholarly Stefan, you are different from Dark Damon. Or …”
    —Katherine looked away, a flicker of a grin crossing her face—“Dashing Damon.”
    “I can be dashing, too,” I said petulantly, before I even realized what I was saying. I shook my head, frustrated. It was as though Katherine somehow compelled me to speak without thinking. She was so lively and vivacious—talking to her, I felt as though I was in a dream, where nothing I said would have any consequence but everything I said was important.
    “Well, then, I must see that, Stefan,” Katherine said. She placed her icy hand on my forearm. “I’ve gotten to know Damon, but I barely know you. It’s quite a shame, don’t you think?”
    In the distance, the band struck up “I’m a Good Old Rebel.” I knew I needed to get back outside, to smoke a cigar with Mr. Cartwright, to twirl Rosalyn in a first waltz, to toast my place as a man of Mystic Falls. But instead I remained on the leather club seat, wishing I could stay in the library, breathing in Katherine’s scent, forever.
    “May I make an observation?” Katherine asked, leaning toward me. An errant dark curl flopped down on her white forehead. I had to use all my strength to resist pushing it off her face. “I don’t think you like what’s happening right now.
    The barbecue, the engagement