Chapter Fifteen
Dillon cut the engine and got out of the car,
rushing around to the passenger side to help Georgie.
"Thank
you," she said shyly, taking his proffered hand. He led her through
a set of French doors into an opulent dining room. Georgie's breath
caught in her throat. She had heard all about Woodlawn Tavern, but
had never been before. She felt exceedingly young and out of place.
She tugged at her clothing, wishing she'd chosen a more
sophisticated outfit - maybe something black.
Dillon, on the other
hand, was playing his role perfectly. He approached the tuxedo-clad
maitre d'.
"Evening," he said in a casual, yet
authoritative voice. "I have reservations."
The host arched an
eyebrow at the teenage boy and his fidgeting date. "The name?" he
asked haughtily.
"Quartermaine," replied Dillon, his tone
purposely airy. He knew what was coming next.
"Oh, yes, of
course, Mr. Quartermaine," the man was flustered, trying to cover
up his prior snobbery when he heard the name. "I have it right here
- reservation for two."
"That's correct," Dillon
responded, showing little emotion. The maitre d' came around and
approached Georgie, who was watching the whole scene curiously.
"May
I take your coat, Miss?" He helped her out of her coat and handed
it to a woman at the coat check, receiving a ticket which he gave to
Dillon. "Your table is right this way."
"Thank you,"
Dillon answered.
As the maitre d' led them to a table toward the
back of the restaurant, Dillon caught Georgie's eye and winked. She
put her fist to her mouth to suppress a giggle, hoping no one had
seen her. They reached a cozy-looking, candlelit table off to the
side, and the host started to pull out Georgie's chair, but Dillon
held out a hand to stop him, helping Georgie into her chair himself.
His hand was on her back as she sat down and she flushed, not
accustomed to being fussed over like this.
Once Dillon was settled
in his own seat, the maitre d' spoke up.
"Someone will be
right along with your bread. In the meantime, Mr. Quartermaine, could
I bring you and the lady something to drink?"
"I'll have a
sparkling mineral water and..." he looked at Georgie, who mouthed
'same' - "and the same for Miss Scorpio."
At the sound of
the name "Scorpio," the man's eyes widened. He nodded at Dillon
and Georgie. "Of course," he answered. "Right away. Please,
enjoy your meal."
"Thank you," said Dillon, offering just a
hint of a smile.
"Thank you," whispered Georgie.
The maitre
d' walked away and Dillon's eyes danced with mischief.
"Dillon!"
Georgie hissed.
Dillon opened his eyes wide, feigning innocence.
"Yes Georgie?" he replied.
She leaned toward him. "How come
you just called me Miss Scorpio? My last name is Jones."
He
snickered. "I know what your last name is, Georgie. But you saw how
the guy flipped when he found out he was dealing with 'the
Quartermaine heir'" - Dillon made quote marks with his fingers,
as Georgie nodded - "well see how much more fun it is when he sees
that 'the Quartermaine heir' is taking out the police
commissioner's daughter." Dillon smirked, proud of
himself.
Georgie, aghast in a way that would have her spitting her
coke across the table in she weren't in such a fancy place, mimed
swatting at him. "Dillon, you're terrible!" She giggled
uncontrollably into her hand, muffling the sound.
"I know," he
conceded, suppressing his own laughter, "and I hate using the
Quartermaine name for evil, but sometimes it's just way too funny
to see how people react to it."
"Definite reaction," agreed
Georgie, nodding.
"Besides," added Dillon. "Haven't you
ever seen 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off'?
Georgie shook her head
'yes,' laughing as she remembered. "Just-just don't wander
off and then start singing Danke Schoen in the middle of the
restaurant."
"No ma'am," Dillon agreed. "I think I
fulfilled my public singing quota with my stint as a General Hospital
gondolier, thank you very much."
Georgie laughed. Dillon was
amazing. He always managed to put her at ease, managed to make her
forget about her surroundings and just bring her into the moment with
him. She placed a hand over his. "Thank you."
Dillon took her
hand, massaging it between his. "What for?"
"For making me
laugh. You always do that - just make me forget about whatever scary
situation I'm in. You take me into the moment with you, so all I
can think about is how much I love being with you rather than how I
should have" - she tugged at her pink and white outfit, grimacing -
"worn something that makes me look less like a cotton candy
cone."
Dillon, his eyes swimming with love, cracked a smile at
that comment. He massaged Georgie's cheek with his thumb, reaching
across the small table.
"You look beautiful Georgie," he
whispered. "Perfect. You take my breath away."
Georgie smiled
and blushed. Dillon kissed his fingertips and dragged them softly
over Georgie's lips, looking into her eyes.
"I told you,"
said Dillon, 30 minutes later, spearing a scallop with his fork. "I'm
not much of a reader."
"I know, I know," conceded Georgie,
swallowing a bite of her swordfish. "But you're telling me you've
never read any e.e. cummings?"
Dillon shook his head. "I guess
I've just never really got into poetry." He smiled sideways at
Georgie. "Maybe you should teach me."
She returned his smile.
"Maybe I should. I could school you in something for a change."
She raised her eyebrows at him.
"Okay," he gave in. "School
me."
She narrowed her eyes. "What, like, sit here and recite
poetry to you?"
He shrugged. "You know any by memory?"
"Well,
yeah, some."
"Well, okay," he said, leaning forward. "Tell
me."
"Hmmm..." Georgie thought carefully. "Okay." Her
eyes dreamy, she recited:
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly
beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your
most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot
touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will
unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open
always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching
skillfully,mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close
me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when
the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere
descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world
equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels
me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever
with each breathing
(i do not know what is is about you that
closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of
your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has
such small hands
"That's always been one of my favorites,"
she admitted when she was done.
Dillon blinked to bring himself
out of his reverie. "I think that poem was written about you," he
gasped.
Georgie laughed, turning red. "Dillon, it was written in
the 1920s!"
"I don't care," said Dillon, shaking his head.
"That-that was everything I feel about you. I can't even find the
words to say how much I - how much I love you."
Georgie
swallowed the lump in her throat. "That was pretty good," she
breathed.
Dillon stroked her cheek lightly. He searched for
words, but finding none, leaned across the table to kiss her lips
softly. On the dance floor, a woman in a beaded black gown made her
way up to the stage to join the band. The first slow strains of "The
Way You Look Tonight" began to play, and the woman began to
sing."
"Someday, when I'm awfully low..."
"Georgie,"
said Dillon, holding out his hand, "will you dance with me?"
She
nodded, "Yes."
He rose, coming around to help her out of her
seat. He led her to the dance floor and took her in his arms. They
swayed gently to the music.
"Hey..." Dillon said softly, "you
know what I was thinking about earlier today?" Georgie looked
questioningly at him. "When we were talking about
Paris..."
"Mmmmm..." murmured Georgie, closing her eyes.
She rested her head on his shoulder.
"I want to take you there
someday." Dillon was serious. Georgie opened her eyes to look at
him nervously. He noticed and brushed his thumb over her bottom lip.
"Hey...what is it?"
"It's just - what if someday doesn't
come for us? I mean, I love you Dillon, I do, but we're so young
and who knows what will happen? I hate the thought of not being with
you.." she was cut off by his lips, kissing her softly.
"I
hate it too," he admitted. "Look, Georgie, I'm not an idiot. I
know how young we are, and how much things can change. Come on, I've
never lived in one place more than a year, I know about things
changing. But Georgie, anything can happen. And as strong as a
possibility as there is that we won't stay together, the same
possibility exists that we will. Maybe even stronger. And the thing
is," he leaned to kiss her cheek. "No matter what happens, no
matter if we're together or not, and I hope we are, I really think
you're someone I just want to always know." He hesitated, then
tilted her chin up with his fingers so that she was looking into his
eyes. "Is that okay?"
She smiled, touched and comforted. It
wasn't a declaration of everlasting love, or some empty promise
like so many people make. Just a desire to be a part of her life, in
some capacity or another. It shouldn't be too hard.
"Yeah..."
she whispered. "Yeah. That's okay." Dillon kissed her slowly.
When the kiss ended, he pulled her closer to him, cradling her body
against his.
"I love you Georgie," he whispered in her ear.
They moved gently to the music, clasped in each others arms.
Dillon
and Georgie held hands as they walked up the front path to the
Scorpio-Jones house. They stopped in front of the door.
"Well..."
Dillon began.
"I had a wonderful time tonight," Georgie
said.
They locked eyes and smiled bashfully.
"Do you feel
like we're in-" she began.
"-some coming of age movie?" he
finished. She nodded.
"I 've never been on a real date
before," she admitted. "I don't know what else to do."
"Me
neither," he confessed.
They glanced at each other, laughing
shyly. Dillon stepped closer to Georgie.
"Well, then according
to what I've seen, I think..." he trailed off.
"Yes?" She
gazed up at him.
Dillon stroked her cheek. "I think I'm
supposed to kiss you now." He was already leaning in slowly
She
nodded slightly. "Okay." He was so close, she could feel his
breath against her mouth.
"Okay." Their lips met. The kiss was
soft, sweet and passionate. Georgie felt her knees go weak and she
wrapped her arms around his neck. After several moments, they pulled
apart slowly.
"Well," Georgie breathed, her heart racing.
"Good night."
Dillon smiled, his own heart pounding in his
chest. "Good night."
Georgie unlocked the door and slipped
inside, closing it behind her. She leaned against the door, touching
her lips with her fingertips, still feeling Dillon's kiss. She
closed her eyes blissfully.
Outside the door, Dillon touched his
own lips, smiling to himself. "Georgie..." he whispered. He
sighed happily, and started down the path back to his car.
