"You still love me?" Brandon asked, already knowing the answer. He needed to hear everything about how she was feeling. Kelly was standing in front of him, heart wide open, and he wasn't sure when it would close again.
"You know that I do," she replied, eyes lowered. "You knew it the first moment you saw me again. Nothing has changed between us. The distance and the time haven't diminished the love that we share, then and now. I don't just love you, Brandon, I'm in love with you."
Brandon took a deep breath and slowly released it, letting every ounce of air drain from his lungs. He needed time to let it sink it; after everything that had happened, Kelly Taylor was still in love with him. He just needed to know how much. "What if I asked you to marry me? Right now, tonight, would you do it?"
She didn't even hesitate. "In a heartbeat."
Her answer took away any concern in his mind. He moved closer to her, so near that her body heat literally radiated off his. Wrapping his arms around her slim waist, he kissed her deeply. She deepened the embrace even more, their bodies melting together to become one. "I love you, too. With all that I am, I'm in love with you." A beat later, he stepped back, his face twisted. Though he was glad to finally have it off his chest, he felt anxious at how quickly it had come about. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize, I know that it is fast," she read his mind. She reached down and took his hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. Holding the intricate web of appendages between them, she smiled into his eyes. "Just take a deep breath, we'll figure this out."
"You need time, Kel, time to get over Dylan. I want us to work this time, and if we try to make it work too quickly, it'll just blow up in our faces."
"I've been over Dylan for a long time. I could always get over him, move on. I've never been able to do that with you. Even when I hated you, I was in love with you. Through Emily Valentine, the fire, the affair with Emma, the disastrous wedding, everything—I still loved you. I still love you. The only question I guess I need to ask you is, do you still love me?"
"Like you said earlier, you know that I do."
Donna was asleep on the couch by the time the last guest was ushered out the door and Madeline was put to bed. Kelly and Brandon had moved out to the front porch to speak in private, leaving Steve alone with Donna in the house. He watched her sleep on the plush sage sofa, her blonde hair splayed across the pillow. An angelic smile playing across her soft pink lips, he could hear the soft steady inhale and exhale of her breath.
She can't sleep down here all night, Steve thought to himself. He knew that she would wake up with a backache. Tucking one arm behind her neck and another under her legs, he effortlessly carried her up the staircase. Placing her gently on the wrought iron bed, he pulled back the quilt and lifted her legs beneath the cool sheets. She stirred slightly as he covered her up with the heavy blanket. On his way out, a floorboard creaked beneath his feet, waking her up.
"Steve?"
"Sorry," he apologized. "I'm surprised I got you all the way up here and in bed before I woke you up."
"Don't apologize, it was sweet. How are you feeling? I didn't mean to fall asleep down there. There is a lot of stuff that needs to be done. I'll come down and help you take care of it."
"Don, don't worry about me. I'm fine, and Madeline is in bed. The rest of it can wait until the morning. You're exhausted, you need to sleep."
"What about you?"
"I'll go to bed eventually. I have trouble sleeping, guess I'm not used to doing it alone."
"You'll get used to it. I have," she mumbled under her breath.
"You and David don't…?"
"Not for a long time. A very long time," she answered. "I have an idea."
He looked at her questioningly. "What?"
"Why don't you sleep with me?"
"I know I'm in mourning, but I'm not sleeping with you," he laughed.
"Not sex, you pervert," she giggled. "Just sleep. You on your side, me on mine. Maybe it will help you rest better, and I'll sleep easier knowing that you are too."
"I don't know, Don. I've never slept with a woman without sleeping with her, if you know what I mean."
"There is a first time for everything, and I do know what you mean. Now, get in," she said, patting the mattress next to her. Steve slipped into the bed next to her, staying on top of the sheets he had pulled over her body moments before. Closing his eyes, they both fell into the most peaceful sleep they'd had since the whole thing began.
David turned the jeep off the main highway and headed for a remote part of town. Brenda looked up, not recognizing her surroundings. "Where are we going?"
"I think we could both use a drink," he replied. "I know this great jazz club a few blocks away. It's a total dive, but it's one of the hottest places in the city to hear new musicians. I love to go there when I just want to disappear and clear my head."
"Sounds great," she agreed, watching the bright lights of Los Angeles fade in side mirror. The cool air whipped through her long dark hair, tickling the back of her neck. She felt at ease in the car next to David. It was the first time since she got out of the car with Brandon that she has felt like she could truly be herself. "So, are you into jazz these days?"
"I'm into anything that catches my ear right now. The radio station just moved to an alternative format, so I've been into a lot of acoustic rock. On a personal level, I'm into jazz when I want to relax and hip hop when I want to move. Pretty much every genre appeals to me."
"Well, like they always say, variety is the spice of life."
David pulled the car to the front door of the club. Resembling a vintage theatre, the club was a picturesque snapshot of the golden age of music. With its neon sign and red velvet rope, it wasn't exactly a dive to Brenda. Remote and out of the way, yes, but a dive, hardly. She allowed the valet to open the door for her while David handed off the keys. Leading her into the club, they both immediately fell into the rhythmic beat that filled the air.
"This place is amazing!" Brenda exclaimed, her eyes lit with joy and excitement. She watched as women in cocktail dresses jived across the hardwood floor. They were being led by men is svelte suits and well-polished wingtips.
"I told you. This guy is one of my favorites. He's relatively unknown right now, but I think he's the next big thing. His riffs are so hot, his voice so passionate."
"I haven't seen you like this in a long time. Well, a long time before I left at least. When Brandon left, he said you weren't really doing much with your music," she said.
"I found a part of myself that I lost when I came back into the scene."
"I know what you mean. I always feel that way when I step on the stage," she mused, looking dreamily into the distance as a blue light danced across her pale skin. "After months of rehearsal, I cannot wait for that split-second when the curtain rises for the first time. It's what I live for."
"I wish Donna understood that."
"She probably feels that way when she shows her line," Brenda tried.
David shook his head. "I don't know how she feels about anything these days, and she doesn't know how I feel. We might as well live on two different planets, Bren."
"Let's not talk any more about that tonight. Let's just get a drink, sit back and enjoy the music. Nothing else matters, it's just us and the music."
"Sounds like a deal," he said as he flopped down on the chrome stool. "What do you want to start with, a beer?"
"What do I look like? A pansy?" she asked, turning to the bartender. "Two shots of your finest tequila. You can leave the bottle."
The burly man placed the two tiny glasses and liquor in front of them. Pouring the sweet liquid, Brenda quickly knocked back her first shot. David followed suit, shaking his head as it made its way down his throat. "Woo!"
Brenda smiled. "I know. Go again." The two took another shot and then another. Somewhere around number five, David showed some signs of slowing down, but Brenda was still going strong. Drinking with Americans was nothing compared to the Brits. After more than 10 years in England could drink most of the people she knew from home under the table. But by shot nine, even she was feeling the buzz.
"Let's dance," David slurred, pulling her off the stool and toward the now-empty floor. She stumbled after him, her boots clopping loudly on the wood. He awkwardly wrapped his arms around her, his movements completely offbeat. Spinning her around, he laughed when she nearly fell into a table.
"Not funny, David," she mumbled as he caught her fall. "You know what I want?"
"What do you want?"
"I want what you want."
"What do I want?"
"This," she yelped, lunging forward to plant a kiss right on his lips.
Andrea was lying in the empty bedroom at the beach apartment, staring up at the white ceiling above her. She couldn't believe what had happened in Brandon's backyard. Steve's backyard, she corrected herself silently. When she was in high school, she had never thought she could get a guy like Dylan McKay. The epitome of cool, he was everything she was not. Dangerous, risqué and sexy, he was literally her polar opposite. Years later, he still attained the same qualities only with a maturity and intelligence that made him much more appealing. And that version of Dylan McKay did want her, and he had shown her just that.
A part of her felt guilty for her actions. She hadn't had the chance to talk to Kelly about everything. They had just broken up, and although they weren't close anymore, Andrea didn't want to break the ultimate girl rule, thou shall fall in love with a friend's ex. Though she was a long way from falling in love with Dylan, she knew that it would happen if things kept going the way they were. There were already some deep feelings between them, and time would only deepen them further. If Kelly gave or denied her blessing up front, it could save them all three a lot time and trauma.
The other part of her wasn't sure how much of a future the situation had. Even if Kelly did give her blessing and Dylan wanted to start a relationship, she wasn't sure how much they stood a chance. With him in L.A. and her living in Boston, the distance was sure to be a factor. She couldn't leave. Jesse was there, and Hannah needed her father. Andrea wasn't sure that she could ever ask Dylan to leave. Maybe it was too early to start thinking about all those things, but she wouldn't be Andrea Zuckerman if she hadn't overanalyzed the situation to death.
Down the hall, Dylan was staring up at a very similar white ceiling. His head resting folded hands, he was replaying the entire night over again in his head. From the breakup with Kelly to the kiss with Andrea, it had been quite a big night for Dylan McKay.
He couldn't believe that he had kissed her. She had always been so studious, simply a part of the group in the early days because of her connection to Brandon. Then, through the years, they had formed a bond of their own. She had been there when his father died, allowing him to share his feelings on paper without ever judging him. Then, he had been there for her during the affair with Peter. He'd felt guilty for missing all of Hannah's issues when he was battling his addiction, but Andrea had promised that he had redeemed himself then.
Rolling over, he looked toward the wall that separated him from her. It was only a few feet, but it might as well be a world away. In all actuality, their lives were a world apart. She was a doctor on the east coast, and he was a restaurateur in California. She was a mother, and he couldn't even keep a plant alive. He suddenly felt the need to talk to her, to have her convince him that it could work if they both wanted it too badly enough. Because despite everything in his head – from how strange it was to thinking of them as a couple to the realities of the situation – he wanted to find a way to be with her.
Crawling out of bed, he made the familiar trip down the hall. The apartment was dark and the hour late; apparently Kelly wasn't coming home. Dylan felt like he should be jealous, that he should care but it was just proof positive that his heart wasn't with her anymore. Leaning against the door, he tried to muster the courage to go in. On the other side of the wall, she was trying to be brave enough to go out.