Chapter 14 : Festival Planning
[CAROLINE FORBES — Town Square, 3:47 PM]
Matt Donovan was carrying a folding table on each shoulder.
Caroline watched from her position by the gazebo, clipboard forgotten in her hands. He moved through the chaos of festival setup with an efficiency she hadn't expected—no complaints, no shortcuts, just steady work that got results.
Most volunteers needed constant supervision. Matt just listened to her instructions once and executed them perfectly.
"Caroline?" Elena appeared at her elbow. "You're staring."
"I'm supervising."
"You're staring."
Caroline tore her eyes away from Matt's shoulders—which were admittedly very nice shoulders, especially when he was lifting heavy things—and focused on her clipboard.
"I'm the coordinator. I have to make sure everyone's doing their job."
"Uh-huh." Elena's voice dripped with amusement. "And Matt's job requires that much... observation?"
"He's a key volunteer."
"He's been here for forty-five minutes and you've looked at him approximately eight thousand times."
Caroline felt heat climbing her cheeks. "That's a wild exaggeration."
"It's a conservative estimate."
Matt set down the tables where Caroline had indicated, then looked up and caught her eye. He raised a hand in a half-wave, and Caroline's stomach did something embarrassing.
"I'm going to check on the banner team," Elena said, grinning. "You have fun... supervising."
She was gone before Caroline could formulate a response.
The afternoon sun was brutal, but the work was going well. Thirty volunteers, twelve hours of setup, and the festival grounds were finally taking shape. Caroline had been coordinating the effort since 8 AM, barely stopping to eat.
She was exhausted. She was satisfied. And she was acutely aware of Matt Donovan's presence in a way that was completely unprofessional for a festival coordinator.
At 5:30, she called a water break.
The volunteers scattered toward the coolers, grateful for the respite. Caroline found herself drifting toward a shady spot under one of the old oaks, legs aching, clipboard clutched to her chest like armor.
Matt appeared beside her with two water bottles.
"You look like you could use this."
She took one gratefully. The cold plastic felt like heaven against her overheated palm.
"Thanks." She slumped against the tree trunk, too tired to maintain her usual posture. "This is why I do most of the work myself. Volunteers are unreliable."
"You've been coordinating a thirty-person team for nine hours. That's not 'doing it yourself,' that's leadership."
Caroline looked at him. Really looked at him.
There was something different about Matt Donovan this summer. He'd always been nice—everyone said so, Matt's a nice guy, Matt's so reliable, Matt's so... forgettable. But now there was weight behind his words. Substance. Like he was actually seeing her instead of just looking.
"Nobody takes me seriously," she heard herself say.
The words came out before she could stop them. Raw. Honest. The confession she usually buried under color-coded schedules and perfect lipstick.
"They just see the blonde cheerleader," she continued, the exhaustion stripping away her filters. "The one who cares too much about parties and dances. The one who's trying too hard."
Matt sat down beside her. Not too close, but close enough that she could feel the warmth of him in the shade.
"I see someone who's going to run this town someday."
Caroline laughed—it came out as something between a scoff and a sob. "Right."
"I'm serious." He wasn't smiling. His expression was completely sincere. "You just coordinated thirty people who didn't want to be here in ninety-degree heat. You have the schedule memorized. You know everyone's name, their dietary restrictions, and which tasks they're best suited for. That's not trying too hard. That's talent."
She didn't know what to say.
In her experience, compliments came with strings attached. Boys said nice things because they wanted something. Girls said nice things because that's what you were supposed to do. No one just... meant it.
But Matt looked like he meant it.
"Most people think I'm annoying," she said quietly.
"Most people aren't paying attention."
The words hung between them. Caroline became very aware of the distance between their shoulders—or lack thereof. Matt's eyes were blue in the afternoon light, steady and warm.
"I should probably check on the lighting team," she said, not moving.
"Probably."
Neither of them stood up.
A car horn blared from the street. Caroline jerked upright, the moment shattering like dropped glass.
Her mother's patrol car sat at the curb, Sheriff Forbes waving through the open window.
"Caroline! Time to go!"
"Coming!" Caroline scrambled to her feet, brushing grass from her shorts. "I have to—my mom—"
"I know." Matt stood too, expression unreadable. "Same time tomorrow?"
"Yeah." The word came out breathless. "Same time tomorrow."
She walked toward the patrol car on legs that felt unsteady, very aware of Matt's gaze following her. When she climbed into the passenger seat, her mother was eyeing her with a knowing expression.
"Who's that?"
"Matt Donovan. He's helping with the festival."
"Matt Donovan." Sheriff Forbes pulled away from the curb, her tone casual in the way that meant she was filing information. "Kelly's son?"
"He's not like his mom." The defensiveness surprised her. "He's... different."
Her mother glanced at her. Whatever she saw made her smile slightly.
"Different can be good."
Caroline watched the town square shrink in the side mirror. Matt was still there, watching her go, hands in his pockets.
Different, she thought. Yeah. He's definitely different.
[MATT DONOVAN]
I drove home thinking about Caroline's smile.
Not the performative one—the genuine one. The one she'd worn when I'd called her a future town leader. The way her whole face had softened, like she was seeing herself through new eyes.
In the original timeline, Damon Salvatore had taken that smile and crushed it.
He'd targeted her because she was insecure. Because she was desperate for validation. Because she was beautiful and useful and too trusting to see the monster behind the charm. He'd used her, abused her, fed on her, compelled her to forget the horror and remember only the affection.
By the time Caroline became a vampire, she was already broken. The show had framed her transformation as growth, but it had been built on a foundation of trauma.
Not this time.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter.
Caroline Forbes would be protected. She would be loved. She would be seen—actually seen—by someone who valued her before the darkness arrived.
And if Damon Salvatore came for her anyway, he'd find out exactly what my blood could do.
The trailer materialized out of the evening gloom. Vicki's car was in the driveway. A good sign—she'd been coming home more regularly lately, accepting the dinners I made, tolerating my attempts at connection.
Small progress. But progress.
I parked and sat for a moment, letting the day settle.
Eighty days until Stefan arrives.
Eighty days to build an arsenal, train a body, and protect the people I loved.
The work continued tomorrow. Training at dawn, festival setup in the afternoon, Grill shift at night. The schedule was brutal, but it was purposeful.
I climbed out of the truck and headed inside, Caroline's smile still warm in my memory.
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