IV. Still Got This Thing
Why is it so hard to say what's on my mind
Why am I so proud?
Still got this thing for you
I know you understand, but you still need a sign
Real love should shout out loud
Still got this thing for you
Hey baby can I carry your flame?
I wanna take you somewhere untame
Don't you know you're drivin' me insane?
Still got this thing for you
When you walk that way, I can feel the heat
Just below the surface
I'd do anything for you .. uh huh… yeah
When you're out all alone, I hear things from the street
I get kinda nervous
Still got this thing for you. Oh yea
Hey baby can I carry your flame?
I wanna take you somewhere untame
Don't you know you're drivin' me insane?
Still got this thing for you
Let me see you smile, come on look me in the eye
Too many times I let the chances go by
Pull down the shade, turn out the light
Help me make up for all those nights tonight
Real love, know it's true
Still got this thing for you
Real love, know it's true
Still got this thing for you
Hey baby can I carry your flame?
I wanna take you somewhere untame
Don't you know you're drivin' me insane?
We can't connect.. oh, that would be a shame
Hey baby can I carry your flame?
I wanna take you somewhere untamed
Don't you know you're drivin' me insane?
Still got this thing for you
Still got this thing for you
Still got this thing for you…
Still Got This Thing is the property of Alannah Myles.
For the Cool In You and Nobody Knows It But Me is the property of Babyface.
Shrieks of joey pierce through the noise of Mardi Gras, multiple kids leaping on the multi-colored moon bounce. There's not a pair of twins among them, but she did that once at a fair in Minnesota. Yep, you could spot the brown-haired Walsh twins in their terrycloth T-shirts, denim shorts, and sneakers right in the middle of the childhood chaos. But their parents were with them, and that was a long time ago. Today, she simply relishes watching other kids express their happiness outwardly while she privately enjoys her own.
Dylan's more private than she is, flashing her a smile as they head past a cotton candy stand. That's partly why she jumped to conclusions when she saw the table in the backyard. The other part is that she almost expected to get hurt. She certainly didn't see Kelly coming and she wanted to guard herself if another girl came into the picture. Yet everytime they're alone, she thinks she's the only girl. Everytime he calls her Bren, it feels like the summer before their senior year didn't exist. Past drama disappears. Forgiveness comes to the forefront and she's falling again. It's been over a year, she tells herself.
Then, reality hits like a ton of bricks. Dylan and Kelly broke up not too long ago. She didn't want to be a rebound. She's on her way to London for an opportunity that comes once in a lifetime. But is a second chance with Dylan an opportunity that comes once in a lifetime too?
"I've never heard so many sounds in my life," comments Dylan. "Including on the beach."
"Zips, zongs, pings, bonks," lists Brenda. "I'd have to agree."
"Hey, McKay!" yells a voice from a small crowd near the games area.
"And Steve Sanders, the most pleasant sound of all," says Dylan, steering Brenda towards their mutual friend.
Brenda chuckles.
Steve, decked fully in a green and grey Greco-Roman costume, has a matching helmet and tanned legs. Brenda saw him in the outfit earlier. She'd also seen him with the woman he has with him, Celeste. She's her usual perky self though she holds a stuffed purple and pink-striped bear at arm's length. It is sort of grotesque.
"I carried on the great Roman gladiator tradition of showing my immeasurable strength," boasts Steve.
"In other words, he won me this," says Celeste, nodding to the bear.
"Nice job, Steve," says Brenda.
"Not trying to make you look bad, Dylan," reassures Steve. "It's not every man that can hit a bell so hard that it rises to the top of the sky."
"Steve, in the long run, men hit only what they aim at," says Dylan sheepishly. "Therefore, they had better aim at something high."
Steve scrunches up his nose. "Okay, Yoda?"
"That's Thoreau," corrects Brenda. "Basically it means, reach for the stars."
Dylan beams at Brenda, while Steve scratches his head momentarily. He continues to mull it over as Celeste leads him to a basketball hoop game. Celeste removes his helmet and kisses him on the cheek.
"But...I won the bear," stammers Steve as they wander off.
"I love the bear," says Celeste.
Without Steve seeing it, she turns around and mouths "no" to Dylan and Brenda. They grin, then go in the opposite direction.
"Know what you're taking next semester?" asks Brenda.
"There's a few English classes I'm considering," replies Dylan. "Oh, and maybe a screenwriting course."
"Wow, screenwriting!" says Brenda. "That's something I could totally picture you doing."
"I watch a lot of old films," says Dylan nonchalantly.
"I remember," says Brenda.
"Maybe I'll be the screenwriter who lands you an Academy Award," poses Dylan.
"With you behind the camera, and me in front of the camera, we'll be unstoppable," says Brenda.
She likes that idea. She likes it a lot. Plus, one of her all-time favorite Hollywood romances was between Marilyn Monroe and Arthur Miller, two creative people loving each other and doing what they love while loving each other. Dylan was a fantastic writer. Surely, they could follow suit. They'd encourage each other like they used to do and it would be even better.
Waves of music begin to reach their ears. They must be nearing the concert area where Babyface is set to perform. When Brenda ran into David earlier, he looked rattled. By a lucky turn of events, David went from organizer to performer; Babyface selected him to play back-up on the keyboard. Most aspiring musicians would kill for that. She promised Donna she'd come out for it and pinch hit for any slack carnival volunteers. It was tough to spot her in this crowd, though.
Brenda is about to rally Dylan into her search, until she hears a loud groan and a foot stamping repeatedly. She looks to see a game stand where a volunteer is in the center of dozens of glass fish bowls. White balls bounce across the corners of the bowls, skipping to the outside of the stands. Meanwhile, multiple small goldfish were swimming underneath in a panic. A single goldfish is in a plastic bag a blonde girl holds. She rocks the bag and starts to cry. A firm frown stays on Brenda's face.
"What?" says Dylan.
"I just think this game's a little cruel," says Brenda softly.
"Oh," says Dylan, looking on as well.
"I don't wanna small one!" cries the girl, crying and hiccuping at the same time. "I don't wanna small one!"
She drops the bag to the ground and kicks it, the fish squirming to a corner. Brenda gasps. What an unfeeling brat.
"Ellen Louise!" says a busty blonde woman, obviously her mother. "Come with me. I'm not going to tell you again."
Then, they both do something unfathomable. They leave the fish on the ground. Her mother didn't even care. The bag's dusty, and sure he's small, thinks Brenda. But it's still a living, breathing animal. Brenda scoops it from the ground and holds it up to the lights attached to the roof of the stand.
"That was horrible," sighs Brenda.
"That girl and her mom have been bothering us this whole weekend," says the volunteer, a pretty sophomore redhead Brenda sort of recognizes.
Dylan stands by Brenda's side. "How much for the fish?"
Brenda glances at him momentarily, catches herself smiling in the reflection of the water in the bag.
"You can play to win for another fish. Two dollars a throw," says the volunteer.
"Nah," says Dylan. "I can tell. She wants this one."
He removes five bucks from his pocket and gives it to the volunteer. He definitely didn't have to do that. Brenda revolves the bag until she's face to face with the fish, who rightfully still appears petrified. It seems to calm down after a few seconds, his yellow gills relaxing.
"Five bucks," says the volunteer. "Cool."
"Thanks," says Brenda.
"You had that same expression whenever Rocky was around," says Dylan. "No big, Bren."
She believes it's big, that he considered her feelings. That's what he always used to do before certain things came to pass. Well, she doesn't want to dwell on then. She'd rather dwell on now.
"Is this a boy or a girl?" asks Brenda.
"I can never tell," admits the volunteer. "Whatever you want."
Brenda and Dylan drift away, examining the fish hovering in the center of the water. There's probably a bowl at their house. Her dad used to keep fish as pets when they lived in Minnesota. He preferred the colorful ones. Brandon thought fish were boring, but she was always aching to feed them and observe them. Honestly, if you looked at them a certain way, they weren't boring at all.
"I'm going to name her Blanche," decides Brenda. "After Streetcar. She had to go through agony before she found a little peace."
"A hard-knocked life just makes you stronger," says Dylan, shrugging.
Hmmm, she wonders if she's talking more about himself than the fish. Brenda smiles softly at him. If she told him that she was going away for the summer, after he kept hinting that he'd like to spend it with her, that'd be another knock in Dylan's life. He didn't deserve to be disappointed anymore, no matter what he did to her in the past. He didn't deserve to have his hopes crushed. Although, her hopes for her career shouldn't be crushed either. What should she choose? Maybe if she presents her problem to him, they can talk about it.
"Dylan, when you were talking about summer plans, I really...," begins Brenda.
He looks at her expectantly, his brown eyes shining.
"Brenda!" interrupts a friendly voice. "You're here! Thank God!"
Clothed in a denim jacket, jeans, and a frilly top, Donna Martin muscles her way into the conversation. Bad timing. Ugh, really bad timing.
"Hey, Don," says Brenda.
"Hey," greets Dylan.
"Listen, thanks for coming and all, but I no longer require your services," says Donna. "Mardi Gras was the one event this year where every volunteer kept their commitment. Who would've thunk?"
"That's great," says Brenda.
It truly is, because she's way more interested in spending time with someone who only decided to come at the last minute.
"But you guys have to, have to, have to watch David perform!" insists Donna. "I got goosebumps in rehearsal. Come on. He's on in a couple minutes!"
Donna takes Dylan's arm and Brenda's free hand, manuevering through the crowd like a pro. A huge group of CU students stand around the stage, the seven-member band under the glow of the stage lights, with David Silver bent over the black and white keys of an expensive keyboard. Brenda's mouth parts a little. David has to be having the time of his life. Donna waves from where they're positioned but David doesn't wave back. He's tuning his instrument. Brenda spies Ariel hovering behind him with an amused smile. Unfortunately, so does Donna.
"Do you think she's pretty?" whispers Donna to Brenda.
"Not as pretty as you," assures Brenda in a whisper. "You and David belong together."
"Yeah," says Donna happily. "We do."
Donna casts a playful, yet subtle glance at Dylan who is staring at the stage.
"Is this a date?" whispers Donna.
"No," answers Brenda. "Well...I don't know. We're hanging out."
"Riiiiight," says Donna, smirking.
Brenda elbows her. They agreed to go to the same place. It isn't a technical date. But she doesn't know what she should call it.
Her thoughts are silenced by a round of cheers and screams as the main act takes the stage. Babyface arrives, strutting confidently to the middle. Brenda, Dylan, and Donna clap energetically as he comes up to the microphone. This is a huge night for David and CU in general. Brenda honestly can't believe he's right here in the flesh.
"Good evening, Condors!" greets Babyface.
Shrill screams follow his statement.
"Let's jam," says Babyface.
David silently counts to himself, kicking off the song with a smooth jazz melody. The audience recognizes the song and starts to rock to the beat. Brenda even catches Dylan nodding to the beat. Babyface sings:
Here we go round and round and round
And back and forth you know
Everybody goes through it sometime
And that's just the way it flows
So we go up and down and up
And in and out the door
Even though you know you've been through it before
Donna beams as David catches the nuances of the song and the funk of the rhythm. This time, David does catch her eye, smiling from ear to ear. It's nice to see. They are the sweetest couple she knows. She sincerely wishes that they won't ever have to go through what she and Dylan went through.
For every argument that we've experienced
It's nice to know that you've remained composed
And I wanna thank you for the chill in you
Especially for you being so cool
This is for the cool in you
Then again, she and Dylan managed to be friends. That wasn't the case for a lot of relationships that ran into the infidelity problem. Dylan was definitely there for some moments where other boys might've not been there for her. Like if she measured Stuart and Rick against Dylan? They wouldn't be able to compete. Her feelings for either one of those guys couldn't compete with her feelings for Dylan. Isn't that what's most important? Then, she's feeling Dylan's hand on the small of her back. She swallows a lump in her throat yet she lets it stay there.
Looking on back at all the changes
That I put you through
Any other girl in your position
Sho-nuff would've been through
Thinkin' about how you made it easy
Always there for me
Never once did you turn your back and leave
She doesn't want him to take his hand away. She doesn't want him to go away. They've avoided each other long enough and brought up what happened enough for her to have these feelings. As if reading her mind, Donna shares a private smile with her as the song launches into its final moments.
For every tear you've cried, I've cried a thousand times
Never once did I want you to hurt inside
I wanna thank you for the chill in you
Especially for you being so cool
This is for the cool in you
Babyface ad-libs and raises his fist to signal for the band to stop. Boisterous applause carries across the space of spectators.
"We're going to slow it down now," says Babyface, propping himself up on a stool. "This is for the lovers. May your roads always be smooth."
"Woo!" shout a few fans.
David plays a couple restrained refrains, the guitarist doing most of the work. Babyface taps the microphone stand.
"I have a fantastic idea," says Donna, turning to Brenda and Dylan. "Why don't...you two dance?"
What is this? When did L.A. become matchmaker central, especially two people who are close to them? Red-faced, Brenda stares at the fish to hide her embarrassment.
"Oh, I can take lil' Flipper there," assures Donna.
"Blanche," corrects Brenda. "That's okay."
She notes Dylan's reaction. He doesn't look too disinterested. In fact, he's looking right at her. Quite a few couples have paired off and they're already swaying to the music.
"I can get a bowl from Courtney," says Donna. "Go ahead. If you guys don't dance, I'll feel like I brought you here for nothing, Bren."
"Ummm, only if Dylan...," says Brenda.
"Why not?" interjects Dylan.
"Why not, indeed," says Donna, nodding assertively.
Donna extends her hand for the fish and Brenda tenderly places it inside. The fish remains calm. Donna gestures to the dance floor. Brenda tosses Dylan a reluctant glance but allows him to lead her to the dance floor in front of the stage.
"If I step on your toes...," starts Dylan.
"You never have before," says Brenda.
Somehow, that breaks the tension. Maybe the memories of earlier dances puts them at ease. He never has stepped on her feet. They haven't danced in the longest time, dances where she felt like they were the only two in the room. Sometimes, she still feels like that and they aren't dancing. Dylan gives her a faint smile. He must remember too. Babyface sings as Brenda tentatively puts her hands on his shoulders, Dylan causing them to envelop even more as he brings her closer.
I pretend that I'm glad you went away
These four walls closing more every day
And I'm dying inside
And nobody knows it but me
Like a clown I put on a show
The pain is real even if nobody knows
And I'm crying inside
And nobody knows it but me
Brenda searches his eyes. They're that familiar brown, with a hint of mystery and melancholy. They're those eyes that have witnessed so much and known so much, far too much for someone their age. It's the feature she fell for first, and despite having to break down all those barriers, their openness is what she clung to when their conversations got easier.
"A year ago, we were at prom," recalls Dylan.
"Mmmm, yeah," says Brenda. "I blocked most of that out....because of my date. Tony Miller?"
"Oh yeah. I should've rescued you from that guy," kids Dylan as they sway.
"You've done that...when it mattered," says Brenda.
Dylan grins and gently presses his fingers against her waist. Brenda smiles down at his fingers.
"You said we'd go our separate ways," says Dylan.
"I was wrong," says Brenda. "It happens...sometimes."
"Sometimes," chuckles Dylan. "Well, I'm glad you were wrong."
She bites her lip. What she should say is that she's glad too. It's hard, though, especially when she remembers something else, something she shouldn't forget-- that she's off to London very soon. Dylan can't go her way. He's creating a new business and he has school. They'd be separated, for three long months at least.
Why didn't I say the things I needed to say
How could I let my angel get away
Now my world is just a-tumblin' down
I can say it so clearly but you're nowhere around
"Bren?" says Dylan.
"Yes, Dylan?" says Brenda.
"Did you mean what you said that night?" asks Dylan. "That you hoped last year was the toughest I ever knew?"
"You know I did," replies Brenda. "And still do."
"It wasn't just my dad," says Dylan, then taking a deep breath. "It was tough...losing you too."
Brenda's shoulders sink as she takes this in. She lets her eyes wander to his and there's no mystery there. There's solely the truth.
The nights are so lonely the days are so sad and
I just keep thinking about the love that we had
And I'm missing you
And nobody knows it but me
"I'm sorry," whispers Dylan.
Her mouth quivers. "Thank you."
She embraces him fully, his heart mirroring the beat of her own. Staring past his body, she blinks at the sky and forces the tears to stall, because she's not sure how much more vulnerable she can be.
I carry a smile when I'm broken in two
And I'm nobody without someone like you
I'm trembling inside
And nobody knows it but me (yeah)
Suddenly, another hand is touching her back. It must be Donna with the bowl.
"Small world," says Jim Walsh.
Brenda hurriedly wipes the forming tears, replacing them with a weary smile for her parents. Jim and Cindy are standing there, Cindy sneaking popcorn out of Jim's box.
"Hey," says Brenda, pulling away from Dylan. "Didn't think I'd see you here."
"Obviously," says Jim, staring at Dylan.
This is becoming a thousand times more awkward, groans Brenda inwardly. She didn't want Dylan to have to deal with this, not tonight.
"Jim," greets Dylan. "Cindy."
Her father bristles at the use of his first name. Her mother is the opposite and doesn't seem to care.
"How are you, Dylan?" asks Cindy.
"Good, thank you," says Dylan. "Yourself?"
"Wonderful," replies Cindy. "I'm glad classes are over."
"We came out to support CU, what with your mom taking her last exam and all," explains Jim.
"Babyface," says Cindy. "Even I like this guy."
"Even I like this guy," agrees Dylan.
The three of them laugh, except her father. Jim's face fails to move an inch.
"Shouldn't you be packing?" asks Jim.
Packing. Brenda's gaze skirts to Dylan, who raises his eyebrows.
"Paul Aiken, one of my colleagues, knows where you can get a student travel card," continues Jim. "You can get great discounts when you're in London this summer."
Brenda watches Dylan's entire face collapse, like a deflated balloon trampled by parade marchers. Her heart feels similarly. This isn't how she thought he would find out that she was leaving. She was going to tell him on her terms, sensitively. She was going to tell him that she cared about him. No luck there. Thanks to her dad. He consistently ruins everything, and based on the not so guilty grin across his lips, he was fine with doing it. Dylan delivers a sad glance in her direction.
How blue can I get?
You could ask my heart
But like a jigsaw puzzle it's been torn all apart
Billion words couldn't say just how I feel
A million years from now you know I'll be loving you still
"Dylan," says Brenda, creasing her brow in concern.
"I have a business call to make in the morning," sighs Dylan. "Uh....."
"We can follow Brenda home," says Jim.
Cindy gives her husband a light punch on the stomach, causing him to wince.
"Oh, okay," says Dylan. "I'll catch a cab. Is that okay, Brenda?"
No Bren. Just Brenda. It's clear that he's hurt. Why did her father open his big mouth? Why didn't she open her mouth when she had the chance?
"I guess," says Brenda.
"Enjoy your evening, guys," says Dylan.
"You too," says Jim.
Brenda closes her eyes, reopens them to watch Dylan walk through the practically empty fairground, the majority of the energetic people behind him as Babyface performs his ballad. The kids and their parents have gone home, like she soon will. You can hear the wind scattering the carnival debris everywhere. You can hear the guitar strum and the bass thump from the stage. Brenda can hear her heart breaking between both places.
II.
The strong scent of hyacinth and soil hovers above the rectangular curves of the Rose Garden. While rich, it hangs too long in his nose and Brandon briefly covers it. Kelly's not as affected and walks dreamily past the flower beds. Her blonde hair blows back and forth in the breeze. She doesn't care, which makes her more beautiful to him. Does she care about other things? Is she affected by other things?
That's how it came off when they were at the Memorial, when she mentioned Dylan. The name had to come up eventually. He wishes he could say that yes, he dated her first technically, at the Spring Formal, but that's not a convincing argument when you pit it against Kelly's past relationship with Dylan. They'd been through quite a few hurdles. Brandon can't deny that. But Kelly ran to him. She got on a plane to come out to Washington and determine what they could potentially be, and he was more than eager to run right alongside her. Who knows? Maybe they'd have hurdles too and build a better team than they anticipated.
"I saw a proposal in this Rose Garden on TV once," shares Kelly.
Brandon strolls next to her, not so focused on the overpowering smells.
"Before, I thought it was weird, but this place really is gorgeous," says Kelly. "Could you see yourself proposing to a person here?"
"Yeah, I think so," replies Brandon. "As long as there weren't any bees around."
"Ewww, I hate bees," confesses Kelly. "They make your skin swell up and....ugh."
"This is the time they come out," reminds Brandon jokingly.
"So?" says Kelly confidently, though she takes his arm anyway.
He pats her hand reassuringly. While the Girl Scouts tagged along to the actual location, most of them are skipping around the garden and he guesses they were no longer intrigued by the two of them. That makes sense. Put a dozen girls in a pretty garden where they could play, and a pretty couple is yesterday's news. That didn't stop their leader from looking frazzled though. She sits on a stone bench, fanning herself.
"I still have great memories of my mom's wedding at your house," says Kelly.
"That was some wedding," agrees Brandon.
"Us Taylor women love roses," says Kelly.
"I'll keep that in mind," says Brandon. "I'd pluck one now, but here's betting it costs a hundred dollars a pluck."
"Maybe the Secret Service men will come out and harrass you," says Kelly, shrugging.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" says Brandon.
Kelly laughs. "Yeah...I would."
"Then we'd have a story to tell," muses Brandon.
"Brandon," says Kelly, squeezing his wrist. "We'll have a lot of stories to tell after this trip."
Of course, she's right. Four years ago, moving to L.A., he wouldn't have believed that he'd go to Washington or get into politics or take prom queen Kelly Taylor to the Spring Formal. He was Mr. Minnesota, an optimistic journalist, and the less adventurous twin. He changed, and so has Kelly. Now, they're changing together. He's anxious to see what form it takes.
"Uh-oh," says Brandon, stalling. "We passed a group of red and white roses."
"And?" says Kelly.
"You're wearing white and red," replies Brandon. "We can't just pass this photo op by. It's like a bull going by a china store."
"You're comparing me to a bull?" asks Kelly, giggling.
"A thin one in a flowery dress," kids Brandon. "Let's go. Pick a pose."
Kelly shakes her head, but positions herself in front of a hedge, three rows of white roses at the top, and three rows of red roses on the bottom.
"Too bad they're missing blue," calls over Kelly. "We could get a more patriotic pose."
"There's no blues around here," says Brandon. "Except your eyes."
"You are so corny," says Kelly.
"I wasn't trying to...just let me take the picture," says Brandon, pulling the camera out.
Chuckling, Kelly points to the flowers and smiles for the camera. Brandon squats to get a full-length shot, the stems of the roses dancing in the wind. It looks amazing. She looks amazing. He adjusts the lens and hits the button.
"Nice," says Brandon, standing.
"Aww, butterflies," says Kelly, noticing a few small, yellow butterflies fly among the flowers.
Brandon puts the camera strap over his neck and joins her. They are sweet as they go from petal to petal. Then, there's buzzing. Butterflies don't buzz. Butterflies definitely don't buzz. Three bees zip past the butterflies, loudly and leisurely.
"Eeep!" cries Kelly. "Brandon!"
He does his best to shoo them away without antagonizing them, but they're putting up a pretty good fight. Kelly attempts to hit one bee with her travel brochure.
"Kelly, don't make them mad," warns Brandon.
"They shouldn't have flown this way if they didn't want me to get mad!" says Kelly. "I'm not playing with you...you stupid...stingers!"
While he feels for her, it's somewhat comical. Watching her try to swat bees with her innocent, panicked expression is undeniably cute. He should probably end her misery, however. Brandon sighs and leaps towards her, bringing her to the ground. The bees hover over them for a minute and fly away.
"Uhh," groans Kelly. "Are they gone?"
"Yep," says Brandon.
"They were terrorizing me," says Kelly with a fake pout.
"Who you? Kelly the Killer?" says Brandon.
"Shut up," laughs Kelly. "But...this is nice."
Brandon looks down into her eyes, which were more blue than he'd realized, and moves some hair from her face. It was all over the place after the bee assault. He imagines this is how she wakes up. Actually, he's seen her wake up a couple times. She was only a friend then. Kelly lets him trace the length of her forehead.
"What are you thinking, behind that smirk?" questions Kelly.
"How I'm glad that you're afraid of bees," answers Brandon.
"I was thinking that you were thinking that you wanted to kiss me," whispers Kelly.
"You want to kiss me?" says Brandon.
"Don't turn it around!" sighs Kelly. "Do you?"
"Yes," whispers Brandon. "I want to kiss you."
He lets his lips part against her open mouth, brush with more force as they meet. They mesh in the dim shadows of the roses. It's soft and sure and sweeter than the last, which was months ago. He touches the curve of her chin. Kelly reaches to run a hand through his hair. Her thumb is near his ear. The sun warms his cheek. He pulls away slightly.
"The last kiss we had was outside," says Kelly.
"The retreat," says Brandon. "I never stopped thinking about it."
"That's a good sign," says Kelly, resting a hand on his cheek. "And...same with me."
Brandon takes her hand, kisses it just below the wrist.
"This was better," whispers Brandon.
"That's a good sign, too," says Kelly.
This could be the moment, the moment where they pass from pretend and petrified to real and ready. The lack of fake labels, boyfriend and girlfriend, died with the retreat. The anxiety of their former significant others doesn't have to make any other feelings die. Brandon tells himself that this is the moment.
"I'm definitely falling for you," insists Brandon.
"You just did," points out Kelly.
"I'll keep doing it," vows Brandon.