For a second they gazed at each other, either unwilling or unable to look away. Brenda's senses were reeling; this was the closest she had been to Dylan since the moment she had first found out. Although she had had several confrontations with Kelly, she hadn't allowed Dylan anywhere near her. Right now they were only inches apart, and the impact of his presence on her was just as strong as it had always been. It was as if every fibre in her body had suddenly been jolted with an electric charge. She felt herself inexplicably drawn to him. The effect was almost hypnotic, and for an instant she was mesmerised by his dark eyes.
Dylan's eyes had always told her what he was thinking, what he was feeling. Right now they were full of emotion - pain, regret, hurt, and guilt. He didn't try to speak, didn't try to move, it was as if he were as incapacitated by their sudden closeness as she was.
Fighting to regain control, Brenda tentatively took hold of the book. For a moment Dylan refused to relinquish it, and the two of them were frozen in some kind of comic tableaux, although there was nothing remotely amusing about it. Without ever breaking eye contact, Dylan finally released his hold on the book. Still staring in to his eyes, Brenda took it from him.
Slowly, clutching her books to her chest as though they offered some sort of protection, she struggled to her feet. Still Dylan didn't speak, and Brenda found that for once in her life she had nothing to say. She wanted to be able to carry on a normal conversation with him, to make him think that she was fine, that she didn't care, that she was over him, but she didn't. She wanted to scream, to shout, to demand some answers, but she didn't. She wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt her, but she didn't. She didn't do any of those things, and she didn't even know why. Mustering all the self-control she could manage, she moved past Dylan and walked on down the hallway, forcing herself not to look back.
Once she had rounded the corner and was safely out of sight, she lent back against the wall, eyes shut, taking huge deep breaths in an attempt to regain control. She realised she was shaking, literally shaking, and tears unbidden were sliding down her cheeks. The whole encounter had lasted mere minutes, seconds even, and yet the sheer ordeal of being in such close proximity to Dylan, the onslaught of conflicting emotions she had just experienced, had reduced her to a quivering wreck.
She had endeavoured to harden her heart towards him, to shut off her emotions, to stop feeling, stop caring. She sighed heavily. Every time she thought she was coping, thought she was moving on, something happened to shatter her resolve. Slowly, she retrieved the little velvet box from inside her pocket. Carefully she removed the broach that was nestled within, and held it in the palm of her hand. She stared at it, as she done many times before, trying to fathom the mystery of its meaning. Why had he given it to her?
She frowned. She had to stop letting him affect her so much, she had to take control. Decisively she put the broach back in the box, and buried it deep in her pocket. She had been an unwilling victim in all this, and she didn't like to think of herself as a victim. It was time she started acting rather than just reacting; the question was what was she going to do?
Only moments earlier she had resolved to cut Dylan out of her life, to forget about him, to ignore him. Now she realised that it would be impossible. As long as she and Dylan walked the same hallways, frequented the same places, there was always the possibility of running in to him, and seeing Dylan was painful in so many different ways.
She wanted to hate him, knew that she should hate him, but she didn't, not anymore. Her heart had betrayed her head, for her heart wanted to be with Dylan no matter what he had done. The thought of seeing Dylan every day but not being close to him was unbearable. The thought of seeing him with Kelly was even worse. In that one moment, she knew that she couldn't stand around and watch Dylan and Kelly spend their lives together, and in that one moment she resolved to do something about it.
***
Dylan leant back against the wall, and closed his eyes. Slowly he released the breath he hadn't realised he had been holding. He felt dizzy, and he was shaking uncontrollably. It had been a fleeting moment; so quick and so surreal he could almost convince himself that he had imagined it. After all he had been visualising an encounter with Brenda for weeks now. Had he imagined it? His rapid pulse rate, the shaking of his hands, and the beads of sweat on his forehead told him that he hadn't.
He hadn't been so physically close to Brenda since the day that she had found out, and he had found her presence overpowering. He had longed to reach out and touch her, but he couldn't, she had told him never to touch her again.
"Damn" he cursed, banging his fist against the wall, why hadn't he spoken to her? The answer came to him instantly, because there was nothing he could say. There wasn't anything he could say to Brenda that would make things right between them. He almost wished that she had attacked him, screamed or shouted; even physical assault, he could have coped with that, it would have made sense. But that silence, the way she looked at him as though she could see right in to his soul, it just made him long to be with her in a way that he no longer could.
What was she thinking? What was she feeling? He frowned. She wasn't wearing the broach, well that ought to tell him something. He fished in his pocket, and pulled out the now rather battered envelope that he had taken to carrying around with him. Carefully he tipped the contents in to the palm of his hand, and closed his fist around it, squeezing until he felt the metal dig in to his palm. He hadn't known what it meant before, but he had his answer now, and he realised he didn't like it one bit.
***
David Silver shifted impatiently in his seat, and checked his watch for what felt like the thousandth time. He had been waiting over half an hour now, and at this rate he would never make his meeting with Donna. They were supposed to be working on their college applications this afternoon, and they were both looking forward to it, to planning their future. He smiled to himself, agitation briefly forgotten. He had done it, he had actually done it, and boy did it feel good. It was gonna be so cool being in college next year, with Donna. He couldn't remember when he had been so happy.
"David." Mrs Teasely's assistant interrupted his reverie. "You can go in now".
Still smiling to himself, David headed towards the principal's office.
Author's NoteFor those of you expecting a big Brenda-Dylan confrontation, don't worry it is coming. In my mind, given the situation they are in, I didn't think they were ready to talk just yet. In relation to Crystal's comment on the previous chapter about the ground/floor when I was writing the chapter I envisaged that Brenda was still in the school building and just heading in the general direction of the parking lot – sorry if I didn't make this clear.