I apologize in advance for this ridiculous, indulgent authors note.

I can't tell you how much I've loved and hated writing this. The end! I've been building this part for such a long time. As I wrote previous parts, I would keep checking my outline for this chapter and inserting things that needed to be said so that they could be referenced here;-) I like to think it's all very "Chekov's Gun" style. There were even a lot of things I wanted to put in that got cut to keep the length near-reasonable. More than anything else, I wanted to avoid that tendency of some authors to make the end of a story unnecessarily long because they don't want to finish. How did I do? (Please don't actually answer that! ;-))

I'm not vain enough to request a re-read of all 115k words in this story (245 pages in Microsoft Word! This is a novel, baby!), but if you're up for it, it probably will help you. There are a lot of tiny references in this part to previous moments in the story that helped build this chapter. Isn't it crazy to think that after nearly four years of writing, this entire story takes place in only two months? My fault, entirely.

Admittedly, when I write my author's notes I try to put everything but the very essentials at the end so you can skip them easily if it is your inclination to do so. But I do have something I feel is pretty important to say, such that I even started crying when I began the notes for this chapter. I have enjoyed writing this story so much, but it doesn't even compare to what I've gotten out the people who have written to me about it. I've had amazing exchanges with a number of wonderful people, many who originally wrote me with no more reason than to say they liked this flight o' fancy of mine.

So now, much as I tend to shy away from boring you all with personal details of my life, I've a confession to make.

When I started writing this story, I had lost my job and had recently left my university program. I was facing a prospect of watching my credit card statements go up, no money come in, and waiting for my little house of cards to crumble. I saw this movie when, with no other way to entertain myself, I picked it up out of the discount bin because I'd seen part of it on TV and thought it might be cute. I started writing about it because I couldn't afford to go out to have fun like many of my friends, and I had to come up with something to say to them. Something to the effect of: "Sorry, I can't join you guys tonight. I want to finish a writing project I'm working on." I thought it would be a small, 10k word story to occupy a little bit of time.

When I posted the first chapter, I did it because I thought it was better to say I'd spent my weekends writing something for people to read than something that would just take up space on my computer. I could not have imagined what an impact it would have.

You guys, however new or old to this story you may be, changed my life. I thought that maybe, maybe, one or two people would stumble onto my story. I was blown away by the number and voracity of you all, my dear, dear readers. Such a simple thing- sometimes a single line, sometimes a long letter- just letting me know you were reading and enjoying made me ridiculously happy. I bartered with myself when I got new reviews. "Send off five resumes today and you can respond to them!" I would re-read your reviews before going to a job interview to inspire me and give me confidence. Surely, if so many of you guys saw something worth spending your time on, by reading and writing to me, I could convince an employer to do the same.

And it worked. I suppose it's a blessing and curse to some, to put a humorous spin on it (or do I put myself in too high regard? ;-). The reason it has taken me so long to finish is because I've gone from no job and nothing to do but write to a wonderful job that I love (admittedly, one or two not-so-great jobs in between) and found some wonderful people and places to spend my time (and delightfully regular paycheck;-) )with.

This isn't meant to worry anyone. I still love to write. Moreso now than ever, really. And I will still finish and post the wrap-up sequel to this story, along with one or two more one shots and whatever other projects come to mind. The future is bright, my dear friends!

What I really mean to say by all this boring, embarrassing, prattle is this:

Thank you.

Thank you all so, so much.

I still don't own anything. Without further delay, the last chapter!

Chapter 11 – To Know Each Other

After the cheers have died down and the stadium is empty, after the headlines have been written and after you are back in the quiet of your room and the championship ring has been placed on the dresser and all the pomp and fanfare has faded, the enduring things that are left are: the dedication to excellence, the dedication to victory, and the dedication to doing with our lives the very best we can to make the world a better place in which to live. - Vince Lombardi


The entry hallway to the house was still stark white when he walked through the door, but thankfully the floor now had a long rug for his shoes. The furniture was still white too, though a dozen of what Duke was sure were professionally placed throw pillows made it slightly less straining on the eyes. He sighed and continued on to his room. His mother's car was in the driveway, and it was only a matter of time before she appeared from somewhere and started begging for his help "with just one little thing" for the rest of the weekend.

His bedroom was still unfurnished too, a task that had been all but forgotten as he'd focused on the soccer season and his mother had been distracted by her Junior League stuff. 'Probably should have done something about that.' His choice would be guestroom, the couch or the floor for the night then. Damn.

The only new addition to the room was the overflowing box of mail just inside the door. Duke spotted several letters with the IU logo on the corner, but UCLA, Maryland, and Ohio State peeked out also. He couldn't believe there was so much!

Dinklage had been fielding most of the phone calls, and despite his best attempts to push Duke into meeting after meeting, the reality of college was only beginning to sink in. He'd taken the SAT last spring with respectable results, but given no further thought to the future than that. He hadn't even asked where Toby or Andrew wanted to apply. Would they end up together, or even near one another?

Would miss his chance at Indiana by being lazy?

'Wonder where Viola is going to-' Duke squelched the treacherous thought and grabbed an armload of dirty clothes instead. He resolved to call Coach Yeagley on Monday and find out when his application was due and started for the laundry room. Might as well get something useful accomplished today.

Duke was dumping his clothes into the washing machine when he heard his mother calling from the lower floor.

"Duke? Is that you, Caterpillar?"

"Yeah, Mom." Duke lied easily as he called over his shoulder. "I've got a ton of stuff to catch up on." Maybe she'd take it easy on him and give him an extra hour or two that way.

"Wonderful. Could you come down to the rec room?" Guess not.

The first thing he noticed downstairs was a hum of the microwave and the wafting smell of fake butter. 'Popcorn?' Duke rounded the corner of the kitchen to discover that some mysterious person had, in fact, set a bag to start popping, but he couldn't even remember the last time his mother had touched any appliance in the kitchen, much less the popcorn. He turned away to look toward the entrance of the rec room and realized that a greasy grill pan was also soaking in the sink, an open bag of hot dog buns on the counter next to it. 'What is going on?'

The flatscreen in the rec room was already on and showing a commercial when Duke finally walked in. A shock of blonde hair, identical in color to his sister's, was visible over the back of the couch.

His mother sat on the corner sofa, posture still perfect, but wearing an oversized sweatshirt, of all things. She turned to face Duke as he entered the room and he saw the faded Michigan 1983 CWS print across the front.

Flabbergasted was not too strong of a word as Duke struggled to take in the scene. "What…" Confusion and anger swam before him. The television noise jumped as a baseball stadium jumped into view. The first notes of the National Anthem hung in the air. "What is this?"

Robert Lennox, former Illyria soccer captain and best friend, turned around and smiled easily. "You're just in time, man, you had us worried you weren't gonna be home in time. First pitch coming up."

This was all like a dream to Duke. He processed the meaning of each word slowly, like English was no longer a language he understood.

"You're a lifesaver, you know? Liv is still going through about six dresses for her ridiculous thing tomorrow and she keeps asking me questions about things we both know I don't know the answer to. Like, why the hell would I care what shoes she should wear? This is the worst Fall Break timing ever." Rob looked up suddenly, eyes darting guiltily across the room. "Uh, no offense, Ms. L."

Duke's mom was tearing up at the National Anthem, and waved off the minor insult with familiar ease. Duke is thrown by the recognition. How many times have the two of them sat in this room and complained to her about Junior League events? Hundreds, at least.

Duke finally finds his voice, after much delay. "But, what are you doing here?"

Rob's relaxed smile slipped a little in confusion. "I left you a message yesterday, since you never called me back last month. And that's a shame, 'cause I had to hear all the firsthand details of your epic win over Cornwall from Liv." Noticing that Duke had still not reacted, Rob continued."Seriously? Detroit, Game 1, World Series? The thing you bet me fifty bucks would happen in May and I called you a sucker? Is any of this ringing a bell?"

But that was insane. He'd certainly not made any plans to watch a baseball game, especially not with his former best friend and mother, of all things. Duke couldn't even remember the last time they'd spoken-

Oh, wait. Yes, he did remember that.

'Are you back at home? I can come to your house.'

'…If you show up, we'll both get sucked in. How about I come to yours, instead?'

Shit.

That had been under distressing circumstances, though, days that Duke didn't want to deal with at the moment, so he spun around to face his mother instead. "Why are you watching this? Don't you have, like, a million things to do?"

Cheryl stood with a sigh. "I've organized every luncheon, rehearsal, and detail for all of this year's events. Everything is ready. Daphne is next year's chair and she can handle things tonight. I want to watch the game."

"But…" It's what Duke had secretly missed for some time. Spending time with his mom- when she's really acting like herself and not a Stepford Wife- had been rare. "I don't…Why?"

His mom tilted her head to the hallway. "Come with me."


He followed wordlessly back up the stairs, feeling like a sleepy puppy. His mother walked straight past his door, leaving Duke surprised she wasn't going to harass him about the lack of furniture or overabundance of mail.

She kept walking straight into her room, finally pausing in front of her closet. "I have something for you."

Duke raised an eyebrow. 'If this is a new suit for tomorrow I'm going to scream.'

"I should have given it to you a long time ago, I suppose. Or maybe never kept it to begin with." His mom was pacing now, her smile small and nervous. Duke didn't like it.

"Mom, what's going on? What is all this? Did Dinklage call you? 'Cause I can explain-"

Cheryl stopped pacing and looked up abruptly. "And why" She drug out the word humorously, "would that be necessary?"

"No reason." He tried to look innocent. His mother sighed again.

"Look, Duke. I know that you've been having a hard time lately. Longer than lately. Things haven't really been right for a while now. I don't always know as much about your life as I should, but I do know that." Duke sat heavily on the edge of the bed, and his mom's slight weight dipped the mattress a moment later. It felt nice, to hear just that much acknowledged, if a little embarrassing. "And I thought that since I didn't know how to help you, the best I could do was to back off and not be a problem. So I spent my time with other things, so I wouldn't think of it."

"Mom, you're not a problem- I mean, you know, most of the time." Duke jumped to the defense. "No more than you should be, I guess."

"You know, it goes beyond just this summer. I've been doing a disservice to you for a long time." Duke noticed his mother rubbing the knuckle of her ring finger: her nervous habit ever since… "I told myself it was for your sake a lot of the time, but really, it was easier for me." Cheryl smiled and lifted a finger to lightly tug on the chain around his neck. Duke paled. She'd never noticed, or at least never acknowledged, the necklace before. Not once in ten years. He'd been careful about hiding it, at least at first, telling himself that he was afraid it would upset her or make him look like a thief. But, like his mother, he'd been keeping it close for his own sake.

"I know we don't talk about your dad that much. That's my fault. And I made it even worse by thinking that because I wasn't a very good mother, I shouldn't try at all. But we're more alike than either one of us has realized, I think." She stood up, pulled a beaten cardboard box from the top of her closet and set it on the bed. "The night your father died, I didn't know what to do, so I gave up on lot things that I loved because it hurt and I've been doing it ever since. But, by far, my worst mistake was letting you do the same."

Duke stared as she pulled a worn lump of blue fabric from the box. It looked so much smaller now than it had the last time he'd seen it, but the faded Michigan Wolverines ball cap probably fit much better. "But I got rid of that. It was ash." He distinctly remembers throwing it into the fireplace sometime in the black hours after his father died. His hand throbbed in time with his heartbeat, just as it had then, with the memory. He remembers regretting it, and coming back hours later only to find a pile of soot and his mother's ring remaining.

But his mother shook her head gently. "I was scared. I didn't want to remember. I didn't want to look at the things that would remind me how happy we'd all been. But when I saw you take this off, all I could think of was the number of times you ran around laughing with it on. I pulled it out, right after you left. I was going to fail alone, I knew that. But I wanted to remember that you had been happy."

She carefully brushed off the bill and handed the hat to Duke. "But those things only carry so far. I want you to be happy now. Not to spend so much time worrying about how to avoid the bad that you never get back to the good. Full lives are made of both."

Duke started at the cap in his hands, and clenched his jaw. He was seventeen. He didn't need to cry over a stupid hat…

But he did anyway, and suddenly, it felt really, really good to stop caring about what to do and just act on how he felt. His mother sat next to him silently, one hand on his, and that made it even better. When he finally managed to wipe his face and speak clearly a few moments later, Duke pulled the chain from his neck and held it up. 'We are so much alike.' "I guess I should return this to you, huh?"

Cheryl shook her head once again. "No, that's yours. My time with it is over, and you've made it yours more than it could ever be mine." Duke started to protest, but his mom would have none of it. "Think of it like an heirloom. You know that hat was one of your father's?"

Duke rolled his eyes. This was getting back to familiar territory and he was grateful for it. "Yeah, I know. He played pitcher for Michigan. Won a college world series game in it and everything." It had been awhile, but he had heard that story before.

"No, I mean your father was given that hat by your grandfather, my father, when we were in high school. He played ice hockey for Michigan in the fifties." She elaborated, pulling the hat over his head. "Won a national title and everything. They'd both be proud of you." His mom smiled. "Even if you go to Indiana. But be prepared to explain to me exactly what a Hoosier is."


Rob was dejectedly slumped on the couch by the time Duke and his mother returned downstairs. "You guys might be better off not watching. Fourth inning and it's not going well for the Tigers."

"When does it ever?" Duke shrugged. He felt exhausted, but was torn between enjoying this return to the status quo and demanding answers from his visitor. He was past being angry for Olivia's sake- she was the guy's sister after all, and if she were speaking to him there was no reason Duke should hold out- but he felt like a totally different person now than the one he'd been over the summer. Was his old best friend still someone he looked up to? And if not, where did that leave them? Who is this person?

The three of them watched the game with minimal conversation until Detroit was soundly defeated. Duke was left with no choice but to speak as the boys stood to stretch. "Well, there's always Game 2, right?"

Rob chuckled as they walked to the door. "Yeah, I'll watch for you. Won't you be stuck in frilly dress land?" Sideways glance yet again, "Uh, no offense, Ms. L." Rob Lennox had been his best friend for years. He was easygoing. He was good at soccer. But he was prone to being monumentally stupid at times, and this seemed to be one of those times. Duke waited until they were outside the front door, and Rob turned to him once again. "So, I'll see you around, man? You coming up to visit Yale anytime soon? Coach says they like your style."

That was enough for Duke. "Christ, Rob, really? Does everything really seem okay to you?"

All Duke got was a disbelieving expression in return. "Are you telling me that you're still mad about the thing with 'Liv this summer? Damn, Duke, even Olivia is over that. And you know how she is."

A month ago, Duke would have been furious over a comment like that. Not just because of what it said about Olivia, but because fighting to keep things the same was what he did. Now, though, his thoughts were full of his mother, and Dinklage, and Viola and his friends. All the people the cared about, none of whom were perfect, but who did their best to make things better for him. It was well past the time to start doing a little of that for himself, too.

"It's not about Olivia being angry. It's not about me being angry. It's about you, thinking that us being angry was the only problem. You are the problem. You protected your friends, I get that. But you don't seem to think there was any cost to it. And that's a problem for me."

Rob regarded him thoughtfully. "You know," he began quietly, "Olivia didn't speak to me until Labor Day weekend, when I came home to visit. She said that she'd spent the last six weeks being furious with you, and when she'd tried to argue with you about it, she couldn't remember why. She said that had made her even angrier with me, that she'd acted that way."

Duke nodded, remembering how terrifying and empowering it had been to clear the air with her in the hallway. 'I'm sorry for being a bitch to you this summer, too. And every day since. I know that wasn't your fault either.' But he felt a tug of empathy for Olivia, too, because it was scary to find yourself acting differently, getting angry, because someone else's actions. It made you do crazy things.

He leaned wearily against the lamppost on the quad, wondering whether going to the parking lot or his dorm would end up being the best bet…He'd learned his lesson. He lost his way far too easily where this was concerned... "I've messed up too many things already. I'm not going to add you to the list. I'm sorry."

But a voice in the present intruded on his memory. "But it sucked for me too. I didn't realize how much until I found myself talking to Olivia and making up shit at random times this summer to cover for her boyfriend. But by that time, it was so much easier to keep lying than to be the person that hurt her with the truth. It would have been easier to come clean if I hadn't given a shit."

Duke suddenly felt for him. It was a story that sounded eerily familiar, when put in those terms. Hadn't they all been looking for the same sort of forgiveness, at some point?

In Dinklage's office, just before the Cornwall game: "It was me. It was all for me. I thought that if I could take Sebastian from bottom rung to starter, it would prove to you that I was good enough. Great, even. I knew I could. But I didn't tell him, and then it became about all this other stuff. And it was all wrong. Sebastian's going to bring us all down, and it's my fault for letting it happen."

Viola on the field, later that day: 'I didn't lie to you, Duke…well I did, but not about this.'

Olivia, in his hallway: 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry for using you the other night. That never should have happened. It was a bad idea all around.'

Weeks later, Viola again:'If he had thought watching Viola walk away after that game like she didn't care was painful, hearing that she really did was agonizing.' "Hypothetically- if I were just a regular girl, and had never joined the team- would your answer be different?"

It was easy to hurt people you didn't care about, but it was so much more common to hurt the ones you do.

So it came to this: If he wanted to forgive one person for lying, he'd have to let go of his anger to everyone. People made mistakes, himself included. He'd have to believe that he really knew Viola, the real Viola, well enough to love her with or without a wig, with or without soccer. He'd have to believe that he was strong enough to love soccer and his team to still do what was best for them.

It had been soccer that opened the door, but they'd spoken about too many other things, shared too much between them. It wasn't that he was in love with Viola-and-soccer. He loved soccer. He loved Viola. Those two things could exist, did exist, apart from each other.

It meant admitting that his best friend might no longer really be the best, but was still a decent human being. That his former crush was capable of being a thing-he-won't-say but could be sweet too. It meant admitting that he was in love with a super-annoying liar of a former roommate. It meant admitting that maybe he could trust himself to be a team captain and a boyfriend, that there was room in him for both. That other people made mistakes, and it wasn't always his job to get it right, either.

Stupid, stupid, things.

But unavoidable, also.


He'd done the debutante thing often enough to know the score. His mom had somehow dragged him into being a standby escort every year since he was tall enough to walk next to a girl in heels, and although he'd only been called upon a few times the whole event itself was well known to him.

Step One: Allies. That would be the easy part. She'd asked him to come. She would be there, but he wanted to approach her in the right setting. Somewhere not too crowded. Definitely not at dinner, and it had to be before the party. He would need insider information. Aside from Viola herself, he only knew two of the other debs this year: Olivia and Sebastian's Ex. Urgh. But Sebastian was probably escorting Olivia- she wasn't on the standby list- so maybe he'd help.

Step Two: Don't make an idiot of yourself. Trickier, that. But Duke couldn't forget how easy it was to talk to Viola, when they'd been in his dorm room speaking off the cuff. Or on the phone. Or at the very country club he'd be attending tonight, trying to take a photo. He'd take whatever idiocy his mind threw at him, for that.

Step Three: Results. He'd play that one by ear.

Sunday morning, Duke awoke ridiculously early and immediately reached for his cell. Sebastian was a late sleeper, but there was a solid chance he'd only just gone to bed. Duke called four times straight before a rough voice finally answered.

"Oh my God, Duke, what the hell do you want at this hour?"

"I need some help."

"No shit, you do, man. It's six in the morning! Jesus, I didn't even know there was one of those in the morning! Did you go home for the weekend?"

"When is your sister going to be at the deb thing tonight?"

"Aw, you called for that? Lame. She was going to meet Kia and Yvonne this morning- they have an early game- and then I think she was helping Mom setup at the club. All I know is I'm supposed to be there to meet Liv at six. The other six."

Damn. He'd been hoping to get there beforehand and surprise her, but it now sounded like that would be hard. And he really didn't want to go begging around Cornwall for help. "Does she hang out with anyone else outside of school? Someone who wouldn't be really involved this today?"

"Uuummmm…" Sebastian yawned in to the phone. "Try Paul, maybe? He's already graduated. Works at that super yuppie salon 'cross town. Cristofer's."

"Are you kidding me? I hate that place."

"Me too! Chicks, man."

"Uh, yeah." Duke wasn't exactly sure what that was supposed to mean, but Sebastian had already starting snoring again. 'Whatever.'

Cristofer's didn't open until ten, but Duke was spared some of the waiting time when his doorbell rang just past nine o'clock. Toby and Andrew stood on his doorstep grinning manically.

"We went to drag your sorry ass down to breakfast this morning." Andrew offered by way of greeting. He walked through the door and began helping himself to cereal in the kitchen. "But your roommate said you were home."

"He also said you were plotting. So we came to help." Toby added. "Or, you know, watch the fiery disaster unfold firsthand. Whichever."

"You both suck." Duke eyed Toby thoughtfully. "When's the last time you had a haircut?"

"I don't know…couple mon- Why are you asking me that?"

"Get in the car."


"Hey, it's Mr. Pedestrian hair! You come back for a trim?" Paul, as Jude Law Jr. was actually called, remembered Duke. Had he really made such a strong impression that this guy would remember so much time later? Whether that was because of his resistance to aromatherapy in their previous meeting or because of God-knows-what Viola has been telling him was hard to say. "Two months is usually about right on turnaround time for your style."

Had it been only two months? Had his entire life gone through so many ups and down in so short a time? It felt like yesterday.

"I guess the jig is up now. But seriously, I did nice work on her, right? I mean, you really couldn't tell." But before Toby could really understand what was happening, he was ushered in to a chair and under a pair of scissors. Paul did not cease talking once. "So what can I do for you guys? You all need spiffed up for tonight? We're booked solid with debs this afternoon, but I could squeak in a little-"

"That's sort of why we're here." Duke interrupted. "Viola invited to meet her there tonight. But I want to make sure it's right. I want her to have fun."

"So you did get her note. Nice. What'd you have in mind? You need me to let you in a back door or something?"

"I don't really know. Do you think you could get her somewhere to meet me without telling her why?" Something without an audience would be best. Maybe outside. And someplace where he didn't have to go through his mother first would be even better.

"I'll do you one better. Wear a tux. You're going to relieve me of my escort duty. They call her name, you step up: it'll be like something out of a movie. I'll make sure she's photo-ready. You guys are going to be the center of attention. Her mom will love it." The guy was practically cackling with glee.

Duke shook his head. "I think I should talk to her first." There would be no more mistakes. No more miscommunication. He was going to say what he had to say outright, and let the chips falls where they may.

"I can handle that." Paul agreed. "You know where the lake is in garden at the club?"

Andrew chuckled behind him, because Duke had lost his driving privileges for two weeks once for pushing him into it during a luncheon a few years ago. 'And if he's not careful, he's going to go in again…' Yes, he knew where the lake was.

"Viola likes to hang out there to avoid her mom at these sorts of things. You wait there and I'll do the rest."

Duke finally grinned. "Thanks, man. I owe you one."

"What would any of you do without me?" Paul scoffed. "The whole lot of you are ridiculous. I'm so glad I'm out of high school."

"Great. Please can we get the hell out of here?" Toby finally whined.

Paul's face fell a little, and then he shook a pair of shears accusingly at Toby. "You're not here for a haircut at all, are you?"

"No! And watch where you're pointing those things." Toby squirmed.

"Word of advice: Don't argue with the man holding sharp objects to your head. Now sit down and be quiet so I can make you pretty for your lady tonight." Paul's voice was knowing, and he waved off Toby as he tried to deny it. "I was at the Illyria game. You're bold, kid. Bring her out tonight. She's obviously not shy."

He glanced around. "Hell, everybody come. I've been rounding up guests all weekend. Viola didn't send out any of her invitations and Daphne will kill me if there are empty seats at our tables." He eyed Andrew up and down. "You can sit next to me."

Duke's shoulders shook with laughter the entire way back to his house.


Duke waited silently in the garden outside the Stratford Country Club, debating his words. The litany in his head was familiar.

Hi Viola. How are you? Right. Like that would sweep her off her feet.

Viola! Long time no see. Lame.

Vi! What's up? Even more lame.

That guy you used to date is a jerk. You deserve better. What was he, a girl?

Hi.

Hi.

He stood still when he heard footsteps along the path. Viola walked directly to the side of the lake, clutching the edges of her jacket like a lifeline. She'd passed quite close by him, but had continued on, lost in her thoughts. Was he featured in them? She'd asked him to be here. She deserved to hear what he wanted to say. She sighed, and for a moment, Duke felt like an intruder into a very personal moment.

Except, of course, for a greens keeper with the worst timing in the world. He wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity. 'If the sprinklers come on while we're out here, I'm going to punch him.' But Viola was speaking to him, acting as though…

She thought that was him. She was glad he was there. Was it wrong to be a little smug? The knowledge drew him unerringly closer, walking forward without thought. When she finally turned around, their eyes met.

Hypothetically- if I were just a regular girl, and had never joined the team- would your answer be different?

He didn't have an answer for her then. As a regular girl, Viola would never have interested him. He would have given her no more thought than any other girl he'd ever met. But she wasn't a regular girl, and that made all the difference. A regular girl wouldn't have joined the team; a regular girl wouldn't have been his roommate for two weeks. The things they had gone through had gotten them to where they were.

He cared about the conversations they had in quite voices. He cared about the way she dedicated herself to the things she did: studying, eating, having fun. He cared about the way she smiled, and how her lips had felt against his in the middle of a carnival. He had come so close to never knowing those things. But what was the right way to say it? How could he explain, in the twenty minutes he had to get her back inside, how the past few weeks was now the measurement of everything? A lifetime of change in so short a time. It was like the months passed as days.

"Well, a few days ago, I kissed this girl at a kissing booth and now…I just can't seem to stop thinking about her." 'It wouldn't have mattered, if you never joined the team. You were fascinating from the beginning. As long as you were you, it was inevitable.' "Plus, I miss my roommate. I really liked him." 'I was angry, because I thought you took that person away from me. I was scared, because I needed him. I wouldn't be the same without everything you gave me.' He said it deliberately, because he knew it would take them to the ground they'd avoided. Viola, as always, met the subject head on.

"I know I should have told you who I was, but I was afraid." Viola's voice is soft, but her eyes are on his without hesitation. 'We've been keeping each other at arm's length, because we were both afraid. But I reached the point, just like you did, where the things we were trying to save didn't need protecting anymore.'

"Well you know maybe if I'd of known you were a girl, we wouldn't have talked like we did and gotten to know each other the same way." 'And that's why I can't answer your question. You were never a regular girl; if you had been we would have never met, never given a second glance…"And that would be a shame."

Viola smiled then, soft and dangerous, and Duke knew that for once,('For once!') he'd come up with the right words. They were back to being them.

He leaned in, brushing his hand against her cheek. How many times had he dreamed of this? How often had he rolled his soccer ball under his palm, wondering if the curve, the smoothness was in any way similar to this face? He leaned in. Viola's eyes drifted closed. It was the perfect moment.

Before the sprinklers came on.

Viola, standing directly in the path of a sprinkler head, shrieked and yanked at the edges of her jacket once again, trying desperately to hide under it. Duke laughed and grabbed her hand, ducking between two rows of fake sea grass with a well-practiced ease.

"How did you stay so dry?" She whined. "Not fair!"

Duke shrugged. "You know, I'm not positive, but I bet you have a spare set of clothes back in the building. Are you up for the challenge?" He grinned, and rapped at the back door. Paul opened it immediately and gave them a once over.

"Are you kidding me? I'm good but you are really pushing it here, Vi. Grab a towel and follow me." He pushed on Duke's shoulder and they both ignored Viola's confused look. "Escorts that way. Move it."

Duke grinned. "I switched around some of the cue cards. Viola is dead last, so we've got enough time."

Viola looked from one to the other, gaping. "Oh my God! You're going to make me a…a…debutante!"


"Jackass."

"Loser"

"Dipwad."

"Tool."

"Asshole."

"Douchebag."

"Would you guys give it a rest already?"

Sebastian was all kinds of cranky without his headphones on, but there were obviously some people that Duke was just not meant to reconcile with. Justin Drayton was, would always be, one of those people.

He had a solid thirty minutes of standing and waiting in a tiny hallway with his roommate and Justin Drayton and Duke cursed himself for not looking for Drayton's name and sticking it as far as possible from his own.

Ah, hindsight.


By the time his mother announced Drayton's name, Duke was actually feeling grateful towards Sebastian's horrible ex just for taking him away. When Viola's name was finally called, no mysterious brunette appeared on the opposite stairs. Where was she? Had she changed her mind? Had she run? After all they had overcome, he was going to fail now?

The longest twenty seconds of Duke's life: then, like magic, like Viola, she bolted around the railing and up the stairs, a bit out of breath. She winked and walked forward, with Duke joining her a moment later. He would not waste another moment. His mother would kill him. His friends would never let him hear the end of it. It would surely come back to bite him the next time they played Cornwall…but in spite of that, Duke leaned down and finally captured Viola's lips with his own once again.

"If music be the food of love, play on."


Fin.

And thus we conclude our little drama. Those crazy kids managed to work it out after all. *sniff*

I hope you all enjoyed this overly-drawn out ride! I certainly have. As promised, there will be a much much much MUCH shorter Graduation Day sequel coming up in the future, and who knows what else? It's a bright new year!

Please review and give me your feedback! I hate asking outright like that, but it's really all I've got now that this story is over. It doesn't matter how long its been, or what you have to say. I'd love to hear from you!

As I said above, I offer up a heartfelt thanks to all who have read through this beast. You are to be commended!