"My entire high school experience was shaped by Brenda and Dylan." - Sarah Michelle Gellar, sarahmgellar on Instagram in 2019
This chapter is inspired by one of Bren's lines in Little Fish.
xx
Theo Fletcher had developed a fascination with the Californian sunrise.
He had, without fail, persuaded Brenda to join him every Saturday morning at precisely seven o'clock for a glimpse of the resplendent gradient splashing across the skies over the mountain peaks which sat in perfect view from their San Luis Obispo lodgings.
A few snaps of an old Polaroid camera were filed away in the inside pocket of her suitcase to show to the Wachinskis when she returned, invoking thoughts of how upset Katie would be that she couldn't see the vibrant colors in person.
If Katie Wachinski sat on the bench beside them, she would fall in love, pull out her paintbrush and begin creating a masterpiece for her next gallery show. She would be proudly watched on by Shane as he dutifully changed out her canvas.
Brenda missed them both, wishing her Californian friends and her London friends could all live in the same place. If she could rearrange geography, she'd stick California in the liquid expanse between Ireland and the United Kingdom, ensuring that she would never again have to choose between either location.
When it did come to choice, Europe won, every time.
Brenda, too, had once been enamored with Californian sunrises - specifically when seen from a comfortable spot on the sand in a particular individual's arms - and a pattern quickly fell into place of watching them each weekend with her good friend, Theo Fletcher.
On those mornings, she often left her phone behind on her bed, allowing herself to drift in the natural beauty of the West Coast. Its lush fields were easily found on the European continent, the hills of Ireland and Scotland shaded greener than any crayon could depict, but they carried a different feel on this side of the world.
At times, the city of San Luis Obispo seemed like a significantly more climate controlled Italy - curved hills, grapevines, red brick roofs in that quintessential California style. An oceanic view spread its comforting arms in the far distance, welcoming tourists, locals and boats of all sizes to its foamy shore.
She'd once visited Florence with Dylan during a continental performance, strolling the Tuscany region back when they were two lovestruck kids in their early twenties taking advantage of a free trip in an ancient country. They'd basked in the architecture, the art and danced well beyond midnight in an evening masquerade. He'd even tried his hand at Italian, hesitantly whispering a poem to her of love and the sea.
Dylan had grasped the French language to a much greater extent than the Italian, but she'd loved his attempt nonetheless. Poetry didn't seem so dull when it fell from his lips, tangling around her in a cocoon of his passionate love.
They'd had a few evenings like that across European cities on every side of the continent's compass, until one afternoon in London killed the very essence of who they'd been together. Dylan had done what he'd always done best - ran when the situation worsened, like a ranch hand losing control of stampeding cattle.
Straight back to Beverly Hills.
Right back to a life without her.
Since her weekend in the SoCal neighborhood, a consistent chime of her Blackberry indicated another incoming message, one added to the already toppling pile of correspondence which threatened to erupt her mobile. A plethora of communications came with the territory of her career, but these weren't her typical call time schedules or interview requests from the arts section of the broadsheets. These were much different.
The usual messages resumed from Brandon, chirping about Jimmy Olsen's morning check-ins on Cat Grant. Their conversations often ended with Kelly, who assured Brenda of her brother's continued physical improvement. During the weekdays, he was watched by Dylan or Steve, sometimes Andrea, who all kept her updated on his well being and his consistent support in physical therapy.
Breaking her own texting limitations, Donna sent grainy photo after grainy photo - typically of her children, a few of David. They'd added her to an evidently previously created group email, in which three different people sent messages frequently consisting of links to videos focused on dancing kittens.
And then there were the nightly calls from Dylan, filling him in on rehearsals and blocking or the frantic costume search undergone with Isla on their first day in the new city.
He listened as she explained their quest for the perfect skirt, something that would adequately portray the character without minimizing Brenda's own self.
She unexpectedly discovered a comfort in their calls, falling back into a warm, familiar routine that both dangerously loomed and peacefully harmonized.
He'd made it impossible to remember why their initial avoidance existed at all.
It therefore came as no surprise when Dylan appeared on the doorstep following her morning viewing with Theo during one of her few Saturdays with an unplanned schedule.
Her shock rested more on the woman who stood beside him. She displayed a dazzling smile and a flowy cover-up over a bikini, the piercing in her navel glittering against the sun.
She pushed her sunglasses to her head and looked Brenda over, from her lazily styled bun to her gray sweatpants.
With the day stretching out ahead of her, Brenda had planned to catch up on some reading before their evening show. She was halfway through an autobiography set in wartorn Newcastle-upon-Tyne, achieving little alone time with herself and her book in all of the responsibilities that faced her daily.
Responsibilities and rehearsals, the life of a working actress.
She certainly hadn't expected company and perhaps would have opened the door in something other than monotone sweatpants if she'd been given forewarning.
"It's my last weekend in Cali and we're going out," Valerie said, hooking her arm through Brenda's. "Are you free to hang?"
She turned a questioning gaze to Theo.
"Have her back by four," he said, barely looking up from the script he'd been skimming over since breakfast.
"Will do," Dylan stared at her with amusement. "I think those sweatpants will be too warm for what we have in mind, Bren."
"I didn't exactly have advanced notice," she said accusingly, suddenly embarrassed by her inappropriate attire.
"C'mon," Valerie said, "we'll get you into something decent."
"I'll wait here," he replied and walked over to the sofa, where a few of her fellow thespians sat deeply immersed in a video game.
She'd tried joining in on the game during their first group bonding session, but couldn't understand the point of cracking open rocks just to see if there may be jewels hidden in the crevices.
"Val, what are we doing?" she asked once they stepped into the room she occupied with Cornwall's newest breakout star, Marisa Callahan, who often served as Brenda's understudy.
Luckily, Marisa was much saner than the understudy loudly waiting in the wings at California University, who would have undoubtedly pushed her down a flight of stairs if she hadn't decided to almost off herself and send Steve into hysterics, instead.
God, she hated CU.
"I'm sworn to secrecy, Brenda." Valerie unzipped the suitcase that stood near Brenda's bed. "I know you live in the Land of Rain, but you still have a suit, right?" She shuffled through the suitcase's various contents, pulling out folded shirts and makeup containers with eight different types of lipstick.
"England does get a lot of rain, but it isn't like I live in the Amazon, Val."
She bent down to extract her swimsuit, showing it to Valerie.
"You really think I'd come here without a bathing suit?" she laughed. "Why do you have one? Don't you live in a snow globe?"
"PA doesn't get as much snow as you think - not like Buffalo." Valerie threw a pair of denim shorts and sandals in her direction. "Well, depending on which side of the state you're in," she added thoughtfully.
Catching the items sailing toward her before they landed on the floor, Brenda dressed as instructed.
"I'm going to take a wild guess and say we're going to the beach."
"That's a fair assumption to make. Give her the gold, Alex."
She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Somehow, despite her dreadfully early morning Theo-driven alarm, she displayed a fresh face. Brenda applied a slight bit of makeup, just enough to bring out her eyes and still showcase a natural appearance.
"You're wearing a bikini, sunglasses and a cover-up, Val. It's not rocket science."
"But what are we doing at the beach? Now, that is the real question," Valerie remarked, watching through the mirror as Brenda rubbed her lips together.
"Swimming or surfing, most likely."
"Bren, hiya." The alum of London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art, her roommate Marisa, skipped into the room and set down her belongings on the opposite bed.
"Hiya, Mare. You're up early. This is Val," Brenda said and smiled when the two women exchanged greetings.
"There's an absolutely smashing bloke downstairs waiting for you. He said to mention something about not running on Walsh time?"
"So impatient," she said as Valerie giggled.
"Better get going then, Brenda. You ready?"
She grabbed her bag, gave a chirpy nod and permitted Valerie to take her arm.
"Nice to meet you, Marisa. Bye!"
"I was about to send out the search party," Dylan said with a dramatic sigh. His gaze rested firmly on Brenda as the women descended down the stairs.
"How dramatic." She noticed the bite of his lip as she glanced at Theo. "We'll be back soon."
"No bother," he said.
Dylan grinned and led both women out the door.
The first surprise came in location. Anticipating a stop by the beaches of SLO, Brenda instead observed the city roll by, transitioning into lush orchards reminiscent of the French countryside.
"Where are we going?" She looked at Dylan, who had convinced her to take the passenger seat.
Valerie sat in the back, mobile pressed to her ear in animated conversation with Steve.
"You ever been to Pismo, Bren?" he asked, glancing out of the corner of his eye.
She shook her head.
"Then that's where we're going." He lay his hand by the gearshift. "You can't be back in California and not go to Pismo."
She rested hers a few inches over, leaving his untouched and yet, without distance.
He pointed out the various attractions as they drove - Sunset Drive-In, Castro Canyon, Avila Hot Springs. He promised to take her to Sunset if she visited in the summer, guilt tripping her that she would break Madeline's heart if she didn't. He shared with her one of his few childhood memories of his father, riding the trailheads until Jack McKay's obstinance resulted in an off-trail disaster.
He was, quite frankly, exactly as she remembered Dylan McKay, before his personality shifted and their relationship grew cold.
"The Central Coast is seriously underrated." Valerie glanced around after ending her call.
"Don't go telling anyone, okay? We like to keep this area a secret. It's bad enough all the tourists that flock to Big Sur," Dylan said, smoothly parallel parking near a clam chowder café.
"Val's not known for keeping secrets."
"I resent that, Brenda," she said, though she laughed, "I kept the details of London a secret, didn't I?"
Dylan glanced warily at Brenda, whose gaze fell on the white flowered sandals zigzagging her feet.
"Alright ladies, let's hit the beach," he said abruptly. She expected him to pull out a surfboard from the trunk of his Porsche, taking advantage of the cresting waves that crashed along the seashells hidden in the sand.
Instead, Dylan slipped his hand into hers, she snagged Valerie's and they walked across the sunbaked blacktop that seared underneath their shoes.
Hand still in hers, Dylan used the other to clap the shoulder of an approaching man - an immensely attractive man with eyes shaded so brown, they appeared almost black and stood out against his curly hair, thick eyebrows and naturally tanned skin.
She stayed transfixed by his eyes, noticing that Valerie's gaze lay elsewhere: specifically, zeroed in on his lips.
"Hi, I'm Val." She held out a hand.
"Javier." He flashed a brilliant smile, undoubtedly destroying the careers of toothpaste models as he took her hand in his.
"So, you come here often?" She twirled the temple of her sunglasses against her lips.
"To the beach?" His eyes glittered with as much force as her navel ring.
Amused, Dylan slung an arm around Brenda's back. "Did I just bring you two to meet Val's next boyfriend?" he whispered.
"She does seem quite taken by him," Brenda whispered in return.
"Well, he is a guy," Dylan joked.
"A ridiculously hot guy," she added.
He glanced at her briefly and then looked at the flirtatious twosome.
Brenda smiled, in spite of herself, assured that he meant what he'd said outside the Silver home.
"Javier's one of the guys on the summer Baja team," Dylan explained to the women - one of whom looked shyly up at Javier, the other who fluttered her lashes, "but he lives about ten minutes from here, in Nipomo. I gave him a call when Val needed a ride to Monterey in case he was free. Javier, these two are visiting from out of town and I figured we'd show them the best this area has to offer."
"I've already been swimming and surfing, Dyl," said Brenda.
"Wrong S, Bren." His gaze danced with secrecy.
"What's he talking about?" her eyes flicked from Valerie to Javier.
"Depends on how long you wanna be in training, Brenda." Valerie attempted to simultaneously look at her friend and maintain a flirtatious smile on Javier.
"Training?" Her confusion strengthened.
"There's only a basic knowledge of swimming needed for one. The other requires a few hours of class, but we'll have you out in the water in no time," Javier said, eyes locked on Valerie.
"Dylan, is anyone gonna tell me what we're doing here?" Brenda said in an irritated pout.
She never liked surprises and their silence stood as a prime reason.
"Your choice, babe," he pulled her her to his side, "but either way, we're doing one of these."
"Doing what?" she asked, exasperated.
"Snorkeling. Or scuba diving. Your pick."
Her jaw dropped and her eyes immediately shone.
"Scuba diving," she said breathlessly.
"Then let's go to class," he said, walking her into the building.
Five hours later, Brenda stood clad in a wetsuit and scuba diving gear, peering anxiously into the water.
The vast unknown stared back at her, yearning to be explored or perhaps warning her against entering its cryptic refuge.
A sense of déjá vu washed over her, the feeling of clinging to a plane high above land as she struggled to choose whether to let herself fall.
She again needed to decide whether to take the leap or a coward's way out. She knew what Steve would do - cannonball right in and shed all inhibitions. Donna would deliberate over her choice for a good twenty minutes, until Steve would push both her and David in. Brandon would weigh all the possibilities before following Steve, bringing Kelly right in with him.
But she didn't know what Andrea would do and in that particular moment, she felt just as undecided as the journalist in her imagined struggle.
"I don't know if I can do this, Dyl."
"Bren, you chose it," he gently reminded her, rubbing the shoulder of her wetsuit. "We could've gone snorkeling instead."
"I know, but, I'm scared."
He remained quiet for a few moments and then looked at her.
"We can turn back," he said, voice laden with reluctance hidden beneath understanding.
"No, I want to do it," she said firmly, "I'm just scared."
She watched Valerie giggling with Javier, attempting to persuade him to swim with her in the murky depths.
From what Brenda could tell, the man didn't require a significant amount of persuasion. She wasn't in the least bit stunned. Valerie Malone of Buffalo, New York, formerly of Minneapolis, Minnesota, could be quite the sexy influencer - in Beverly Hills, in a Berlin nightclub, at a London hospital.
Indeed, Valerie had flirted with half the medical staff of King's College Hospital when she visited Brenda one winter and broke her toe from grinding her ice-skate a little too hard.
Graham had taken them then, staying until he knew for sure that Valerie's broken toe was her only injury.
She should miss him and she did, to some extent. But neither Graham Dixon nor the wretched Stuart Carson ever secured her heart to the point of that insatiable, irksome, irascible Dylan McKay - the Southern Californian bred surfer of many adjectives who'd managed to get under her skin from the moment she saw his trend-setting sideburns standing by the lockers.
She wanted to be damn sure he didn't do so now; however, she could use a placebo dose of confidence that only he seemed to offer.
"Do you," her thrice ex-boyfriend paused and inhaled deeply, "wanna do it together?"
"Is that okay with you?" she whispered, the thought tapering her fears. She didn't think of the possible ramifications, just finding some semblance of courage to take the plunge or regret not doing so later.
Regrets were not something she permitted to invade her life and she would certainly not allow them to take her now.
"Of course it's okay." He gave an electric grin that far outshone Javier's.
His was still aimed in Valerie's willing direction, a mutual unbroken stare initiating a heated tango in the space between.
Dylan held out a hand, which she readily accepted, blinking away thoughts of Valerie's blatant eyesex with their scuba diving instructor.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Ready," she said, squeezing his hand with rising conviction.
Together, they dove into the water and down to the treasure troves below.
She focused on kicking her flippered feet, imagining herself as a mermaid running away from a shark. She felt the rush of water nearby, indicating Dylan's feet were doing the same. His hand remained in hers and her incoming anxiety quelled at his touch.
They swam past schools of brightly designed fish. An outstretched orange octopus hunted for its meal. Two bottlenose dolphins were spotted in the midst of mating season. Bubbles emitted from Brenda's mask as she laughed, causing Dylan to tug her slightly closer.
The ocean sat clear, inviting, and still lively, despite the accumulating litter that invoked her deep-set glare.
They rose to the surface after what felt like weeks, helped back into the boat by a toweled Javier.
"Oh my God!" said Brenda and Valerie in unison, who stood wringing out the ocean from her long hair.
"That was amazing!" Brenda said, running a towel over her own.
"Javier's a great teacher." Valerie licked her upper lip as she glanced at him.
"Dylan's an excellent companion." She gazed at him appreciatively.
"I'm glad you think so," he smiled.
"Wish we could do something about that damn rubbish down there, though," Brenda huffed, crossing her arms.
"That's part of what we do," Javier pointed between himself and Dylan. "The initiative is largely based in Baja right now, but we're working to get it moved up the coast."
"Thank God." Brenda removed her flippers and massaged out the resulting kink in her foot. "I don't like to think about little dolphin babies getting their noses stuck in a pop can."
"I think they're called calves, Bren," Dylan said wickedly, "and soda."
"It's pop, Dylan." Valerie gratefully accepted an offered can from Javier.
"Two against one," Dylan looked at him, "tiebreaker?"
"Soda pop works fine for me," Javier's shoulders heaved in a shrug.
Valerie grinned and cracked the tab, finishing her Sprite in four large gulps. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and looked at Javier, whose finger tip trailed along her arm.
"That's a cop-out if I ever heard one," Dylan's eyes narrowed.
Brenda laughed, leaving to discard the salt water from her slick wetsuit and drenched hair with a lukewarm shower.
They thanked Javier for the experience, Valerie's gratitude slipping out with a lingering kiss on his cheek and a torn piece of paper bearing her number.
"Val, you do know Javier lives in California, right?" teased Dylan, following the disappearance of his friend's red hot Saturn from their view.
"Yeah and so?" she asked. "Maybe he wants to see a real Christmas instead of whatever crap you guys call here."
"I call it the perfect wave," he said, chuckling. Glancing at his watch, he met Brenda's eye. "We still have about an hour until Fletch needs you back. Mind if I surf for a bit? Looks like there's some gnarly swells."
"No, go ahead," she replied as Valerie locked their arms.
Dylan popped his trunk, removed his surfboard and gave a military nod.
"I'll just be right over there if you need me." He pointed to a crest not far from their eyeline.
"Have fun!" she called, her gaze following the racing body hugged tightly by his damp wetsuit that darted across the sand.
"Let's go have some fun of our own," Valerie led her over to the boardwalk, "plenty of hot guys to check out."
"Val, have you forgotten Javier already?" She shook her head in mock disappointment.
"It's just gawping, Brenda. No harm, no foul. The men back east are pretty damn hot, but there's something about a six pack in swimming trunks."
They stopped at a stall selling ice-cream. Valerie bought two cones and they moved to stand against the railing of the pier, cooling themselves with the refreshing treat.
"So what's going on with you and Dylan?" Valerie bit into her waffle cone, their sandal soles scuffing along the wooden planks.
"Nothing's going on," Brenda replied, exasperation from a repetitious mantra seeping through her response. "We're just -"
"Friends," Valerie brushed off with a flick of her wrist, "yeah, I know. But, Brenda, if you ask me, the boy is smitten."
"Val, if I ask you, every boy is smitten," she laughed, catching an escaped dollop of butter pecan drizzling over the side of the cone with her tongue.
"When it comes to you, Brenda Catherine Walsh, every boy is smitten," Valerie insisted, closing her mouth over a large helping of mint chocolate chip.
"That's not even my middle name," Brenda laughed again. "Careful, girl, you'll get a brain freeze." She tapped a finger against Valerie's hairline.
"I'm more likely to get a chest freeze." Eyes that captivated half of the population turned thoughtful. "Look, Brenda, he offered to take me up to Monterey just so we could drop in and see you." Her free hand gestured wildly in the direction of Dylan's bobbing surfboard - or what she assumed to be his surfboard.
"Is that what he said?"
"No," she admitted, "but it's obvious."
Brenda took another bite of her ice-cream, disposing the paper cover when she finished.
"Even if I wanted him that way, which I don't, it wouldn't matter. He's in love with someone else."
"Who?" Valerie scoured the beachgoers soaking up bright sun rays under striped umbrellas.
"She's not here, Val. Obviously," Brenda said, observing through the wooden planks a child digging for seashells under the boardwalk.
A sand crab scurried out of one of the created mounds, irritated at the intrusion of its home.
"Exactly. She's not here. You are. He is."
"Look, I've been the victim of the other woman, okay? I will never do that to someone else." She fought to keep the tremor out of her voice. "You know exactly what went down in London, Val. You know why I can't latch onto the roller coaster again."
Leaning against the railing of the pier, she folded her arms together and stared at the reflections gliding through the water.
She imagined growing fins and permanently relocating to the darkest corner of the darkest ocean, befriending dolphins and merpeople who would be far easier to understand than a human heart.
"Why can't you just give it a chance, Brenda? You'll never know if things might work out this time if you don't let them begin."
Valerie's statement shot through her chest, soared out and then fell onto the buoy floating in the distance.
"I don't know who Dylan is in love with, but I know it isn't me and it's for the best. Honestly," she shifted her gaze to her friend, "it might be different if he just left London, Val, but he not only left; he left and went straight back to Kel, like almost two years together didn't mean anything, like I didn't mean anything. He chased after Kel." Her voice cracked. "I won't be part of the same old tired triangle. I can honestly say I trust him as a friend, but I'm not sure I can entrust my heart to him again and furthermore, who's to say he would trust me with his?" She played with the cuff of her shorts. "I've accepted we're better off as friends; in fact, I'm more than happy to be his friend. I'm begging you to please let this go. No matchmaking schemes, Val, I mean it."
The sound of a throat clearing caused both women to pivot on their heels.
A glistening Dylan stood with his hands shoved in his pockets and his mouth set in a firm line.
"Dylan?" she asked, "What's wrong?"
"Damn parking ticket," he fumbled out, "gonna have to pay the fee."
"I'll pay," she pulled out her wallet, "how much?"
"Brenda, you aren't paying my parking ticket."
"You came up here to see me," she said, "now how much?"
"I came up here to drive Val," he corrected. "You were just on the way."
"But you picked me up anyway, so how much?"
"Look, don't worry about it."
Valerie moved to stand between them, holding one hand flat toward Brenda and the other toward Dylan.
"If you two are gonna stand here arguing over it, then I'll just pay the damn thing," she said and looked directly at Dylan. "How much?"
"Fifty," he muttered, eyes focused on the tie of his swim trunks.
"You're fighting over a fifty dollar parking ticket?" Valerie asked, throwing up her hands, "Unfuckingbelievable!" Reaching into her purse, she removed a crisp bill from her wallet and handed it to him. "Here, take it."
"Thanks," Dylan said, his tone clipped, "and we weren't fighting. We're -"
"If you say friends," Valerie interrupted, the Mediterranean-colored pupils of her eyes shifting upward in blatant irritation, "I'm telling the next insanely attractive guy who comes over this way to French Brenda. And believe me, this beach is full of them."
"How does that make sense, Val?" She relaxed her rigid stance as a small giggle streamed from her lips.
"Think I won't?" She bore an expression that dared either of them to challenge her. "I can have a line from here to the parking lot within minutes." She snapped her fingers.
Dylan glanced at his watch. "Not today, Poppins. We've got to get Bren back. I'm guessing you have a runthrough before the show tonight?"
His voice carried all the rumination of an individual attentive to their nightly calls.
"Yeah, we do," she smiled, which became reciprocated by his own.
"Dylan, did you ever hear about the time when six year old Brenda Walsh set up a stage in the backyard and charged the neighbor kids of Buffalo two bucks a pop for a shot at her twin brother?"
Dylan guffawed and shook his head.
Brenda scowled.
"I can't believe you told him that."
"What's the big deal, Brenda? Best two bucks I ever spent," Valerie's lips curled into a smug grin. "Best summer vacation with BnB, too."
The Porsche carted them back to SLO, an unwavering sun gliding along the open window, with ten minutes left until the necessary call time.
The three stood in the sloped driveway for the next five. Brenda looked at Dylan curiously, who seemed to be counting the cracks in the cement.
"Call me the second you get home," Valerie said, locked to Brenda in a strong embrace. "We still have to plan Cork. I'm thinking next summer would be good. We can avoid the rainy season, even if you are used to it."
"I shall," she pat her back, "and keep me updated on whatever happens with Javier."
"Oh, I will." Valerie's eyebrows lifted in a manner reminiscent of Steve Sanders, "again and again and again and -"
"Bye, Val!"
"Love you, babe."
"Yeah, love you, too."
Valerie slid into the car, closing the tinted window with a tinkling laugh as she pulled out her phone.
Dylan walked with Brenda to the door, quiet in the musings she noticed had begun on their way back into the city.
"I had fun today, Bren." He rested an elbow on the doorframe and a hand on her waist.
"Yeah, I did, too. That was - damn, incredible doesn't even begin to describe it, Dylan. Thank you for taking me scuba diving."
"You're welcome," he said, "it was my pleasure." His gaze went to her face, quickly trailed to somewhere lower, and then settled on her eyes.
"We'll be at the show, but then I've got to get Val up to Monterey," he said with what she thought may have been a tinge of sadness. "I won't be able to drop in after curtain."
"That's okay," she reassured, pressing her hand against his shoulder. She hesitated for a moment. "Dylan?"
"Yeah?"
"Why did you offer to drive Val up?"
"Because she needed a ride," he said with a slight smile.
"Thanks again." She leaned forward to give him a light kiss on the cheek.
Surprised, he stared at her and stroked her hand.
"Call you later, Bren."
"Bye, Dylan." She shut the door behind him.
She rested her back against it, thinking over her conversation with Valerie and the magical experience with Dylan - for swimming past sunning starfish waving to lazing lobsters may have been the closest method outside of a cauldron that the world would find for magic.
She looked at Theo, who regarded her with an intrigued expression.
"Good craic?" he asked, folding down a corner of the same script from that morning's read as he penciled notes into the margin.
His coffee mug remained untouched, which indicated he'd spent the day tearing apart and reworking the stage directions for the next day's matinee.
"Great craic," she said and bounced off to meet Isla for her costume change, content in the knowledge that both Valerie and Dylan would be in the audience for another performance of their roaming tour.
There was a certain magic to be discovered in that assurance alone.
xx
Yes, you get a double chapter! We celebrate Easter and whether you do or don't, consider a second dosage as my chocolate Easter egg/bunny to you. So Happy Easter tomorrow, if you celebrate, and happy random weekend, if you don't.
- Val is so damn fun to write.
DylanLovesBrenda - One of the greatest aspects of B/D was their ongoing friendship, even after all the shit. I really wanted to rebuild that first before either - specifically Bren - gives in to more. But I do have the reunion chapter written already, so it is coming down the line. Also - Just read chapter seventeen of Vegas mere days after finishing writing this one. Lmao good thing there weren't any sharks. Will reply to the rest on private!