After all these years, Damon could still read the shift in her moods from the slightest quirk of her lips, the set of her shoulders. For the first time since she'd come back to town, he wasn't annoyed at himself for still being so in tune with her. Tonight, it felt oddly comforting, the feeling of knowing her so well, knowing that she knew him just as intimately, in a way that had nothing to do with sex. Not that that part wasn't awesome, he mused, concealing a grin behind a bite of his burger. But this was different, a deeper element of their relationship that he'd been desperately been trying to keep at bay. Even last night, after he'd left her, he'd told himself his crazy compulsion to be with her was solely about sex. What he really needed to do if he really wanted her out of his system, was to stop fighting it. Give it free rein, let it burn itself out. Then he'd walked into her house tonight, stumbled into the simple evening she was spending with her son, and he knew he was full of shit.
