Serenity permeated the atmosphere, which was once more encumbered by a gelid chill.
He knew before looking that she stood behind him, quite possibly laughing at the curses that flew out of his mouth.
"You knew I was coming, didn't you?" He tried to quickly turn around without falling on his ass. "That's why you dreamt me up in the middle of this frozen lake? 'Cause you know I fucking suck at skating?"
"You wish," she said, cutting her blade across the ice. "For your information, I was trying to dream up my family. It's been ages since I've seen my cousins and this was the lake we would skate on every winter."
"Tried to dream up your family and dreamt me up instead? This is becoming a habit, Brenda."
"One I'm sure you can break, if you really try," she said, spinning circles around him.
"Then I'd rather not try," said Dylan. "I'm quite glad to see you in my dreams, actually. Getting to relive high school with you is more incredible than you'd think it would be, but seeing the you who knew me in my twenties? Brings back all kinds of memories I can't talk about with sixteen-year-old you. Like the time we squeezed -"
"If you're about to mention what I think you're about to mention -" Brenda was abruptly halted by the shifting laundry in her arms.
Shifting laundry?
Dylan gingerly walked across the ice, torn between getting the hell off of that lake before he sank below its treacherous depths, or going further into it to be closer to his Brenda.
The linens Brenda held moved just enough to reveal a tiny foot, then a leg, and then -
"A baby," he breathed. "At the end of our last dream, you weren't filled with clouds. You were filled with milk, because you…you had a baby." Dylan gripped his own wrist to prevent him from ongoing disappointment when he would reach out to touch the child's fleshy arm and instead be met with more air.
"You can see him?" asked Brenda.
"Him?" Every question he had planned to ask and every warning he had planned to tell her was forgotten as Dylan set his attention upon the baby. "God, Brenda. He's so beautiful."
"I know," she beamed. The glitter in her eyes matched the shine of the crystal lake. "He's everything I hoped for, and even more than that."
"Mama's little sweetheart," said Dylan. "I thought," he set his hand over the linens, "for some reason, I had thought you miscarried."
"I thought I did, too. But Aiden here was stubborn and wasn't so willing to let me go."
"Aiden?" Dylan's head whipped up towards Brenda, who looked ahead without seeing him.
"Yeah, Aiden. My son. Aiden, this is; well, I suppose you can think of him as Mommy's old friend."
"Oh we're friends again, are we?" Dylan smirked.
"We're clearly something if you keep barging into my dreams."
"Barging? I think you're opening the door and offering me the key, Bren, because you know that other than giving you your son, Monaghan can never satisfy you the way I can. Nor can Manzano; nor Reina, for that matter."
"Nothing even happened with Ernesto, ever."
"Doesn't mean he didn't want it to."
"Reina? As in, the Emilio Reina that we went to high school with? I think I might've talked to him once or twice."
Without taking his eyes off of Aiden, Dylan told Brenda of her friendship with Reina that Reina sought to turn into more.
"Does that mean Andrea and I didn't fight over Chris Suiter?" asked Brenda.
"You fought over Suiter?"
"We did. It was really dumb, and I was a total," she covered Aiden's ears, "witch with a capital B."
"What'd you do?"
"I slapped Andrea."
"You did what?"
"I know. It was terrible. I still don't know what came over me, not that that's an excuse. Is Chris Suiter still an ass who preys on young girls?"
"I really hope not, considering how much time you've spent with Suiter these last few months. You might've slapped Andrea, but I doubt it, since you two seem close these days."
A foreign sensation rippled through Dylan's finger. He glanced down to see that Aiden had latched onto it.
"Brenda." Dylan swore he could hear his own heart blasting through his ear canals. "Bren, can I hold him?"
"You want to hold him?"
"Look at Aiden. What's he doing?"
"He's got his fingers around something."
"My finger, Bren. He's got his fingers around my finger, and I can feel it."
"You - what? How are you able to touch him?"
"I don't know, but I can. So can I hold him?"
"I can't even see you, Dylan. I could drop Aiden if I try to give him to you."
"You won't. Use my voice to guide you."
Dylan tugged on the linens until Aiden was safely settled in his arms.
"I don't like this, Dylan. It looks like Aiden's just floating in the air and I'm letting him."
"Trust me. I've got Aiden. I'll make sure he doesn't fall."
"So now that you've seen my son with Connor, you'll let us go, right?" asked Brenda.
"Not a chance," said Dylan. "It makes me all the more determined to hold onto you."
"But what happens to Aiden if you and I do stay together?" Her tone carried apprehension. "It wasn't exactly an easy birth and I'm not so sure I want to go through it again."
"It wasn't? Should I be concerned about your health? About Aiden's health?"
"We're fine now. I just don't think my body can handle a repeat of that."
"Maybe it wouldn't have to, Bren. When we stay together, Aiden could become ours; unless…"
"Unless?"
"Unless he already is ours." Dylan's excitement grew over the idea. He held Aiden closer to his chest in fear of dropping him. "What if, what if Monaghan isn't Aiden's father?"
"That may be your fantasy, Dylan, but it doesn't make it reality."
"Now, hold on babe, hear me out. I told you we were together in our past lives, right?"
"You did, but -"
"No buts, Bren. We were together in our past lives. That's fact. And then I fricked it up for all versions of us, which is making it really difficult for all the past mes to reclaim their happy endings with the past yous."
"Okay?"
"So what if you and I tried to reclaim our own happy ending, and then something supernatural, like -" like fucking Anteros, Dylan tried to say, but couldn't voice the words, "made us forget? Dreams can't be manipulated, Bren, but memories; memories can. It only takes the recollection of one horrible memory to distort all of the wonderful ones."
"You think a supernatural being messed with our memories?"
"Sort of. Okay, so there's this past me who was married to you for forty years before I wrecked them. When their story restarted, Past Me remembered everything. Past You didn't, and you still won't talk to Past Me."
"So you think we were together and then our lives started back over?"
"Not our whole lives. I think we saw each other and we don't even know it. You keep dreaming of me, Brenda. Have you ever dreamt of Monaghan?"
"I don't think that's really any of your business -"
"Baby, humor me. Please."
She stared at Aiden for a full second before confessing her inability to dream of Connor Monaghan.
"Because our dreams know we've tried to get back together," said Dylan. "The fairies must've taken pity on me and went to Eros to see how they could help. That's why Itero let me have this wish, because Eros decided the only way to secure our future and our pasts was by a complete do-over where we can do it right; where I can be your prom date, where I don't let my addictions destroy us, where nothing and no one comes between us."
"Dylan, you and I haven't seen each other since you left London -"
"I know; it's been fourteen years of torture. But what if it hasn't? What if we saw each other nine months ago? What if that isn't the first time we've seen each other since London? What if every time we agree to try again, we're derailed? What if because I diminished our connection one time, in one stupid game of friggin' Battleship, now I keep paying for it whenever our renewed connection gets wiped every time I come thisclose to getting you back?" If he hadn't been holding Aiden, Dylan would have begun performing cartwheels in his overexcitement. "Shit, Bren; what if this supernatural being is the reason behind that K2 mission? I mean, think about it. My boss assigned me to go to K2, right? What kind of idiot would tell the average Joe to go to K2?"
"What kind of idiot would agree to go to K2 when he had never climbed a mountain in his life?" asked Brenda.
"Exactly my point," said Dylan.
"I don't know, Dyl. That's a ton of what-ifs. I think you're reaching to find a way to make my son yours."
"Maybe, but there's just something about him, Brenda." Dylan watched as Aiden became fascinated by their reflection on the lake. "I can't touch you, but I can touch him. I can hold him." He lifted Aiden up to kiss his cheek. "God, I can even kiss him, Brenda! I can't kiss you; I can fu - fusing kiss him. Sixteen-year-old you has mentioned Aiden twice to me now. That's gotta mean something."
"Why would some supernatural being even want to mess with us?"
"Because at some point in the far, distant past; long before Byron, Rimbaud, Baudelaire, Balzac, your Willy Shakes and maybe even Homer, I somehow enraged this supernatural being and, according to my pasts, we've been dodging the asshole ever since."
Brenda's lips rubbed over each other in intense contemplation. "Well, it would explain why I thought of you so much during this pregnancy. I thought I was being a terrible wife to Connor."
"If you were thinking of me while you were with your new husband, then maybe your thoughts were trying to correct your memories. Maybe you and Monaghan actually broke up years ago. Monaghan could've been made to forget, too."
Dylan asked what had come to Brenda's mind when she had learnt of her pregnancy. Brenda hesitantly admitted that he had.
"But that could just be because of our pregnancy scare," she hastened to add.
"Don't you mean scares?"
"You - you know?"
"About our second scare, in London? Yeah, I know. Did you ever even think about telling me?"
"It didn't seem necessary when there wasn't a baby."
"But if there had been? Would you have told me?"
"Truth be told, Dyl, I'm not sure. I'd like to think I would, but you were so messed up with the drugs, and then when you got back together with Kelly…"
"You think I would've tried to get custody?" Dylan attempted to neutralize the hurt seeping into his voice. "Taken our child away from you to raise with Kelly?"
"No," said Brenda firmly, "I don't think that, not even for a moment. But I," she dropped her gaze to the ground, "with everything that happened between the three of us; I mean, I'd like to think Kelly wouldn't, but I also wouldn't be surprised if she had asked you to."
"Brenda," he ached to raise her chin as he always had, "even if Kelly had asked, I would've never agreed. I wouldn't put you or our kid through that. We didn't have a kid at sixteen, or at twenty-three, but maybe…maybe your instinct told you all along while carrying Aiden that he's ours, and that's why you automatically thought of me when you found out about him."
Itero said Anteros punishes unrequited and half-requited love alike, mused Dylan. Kelly and I were definitely half-requited; she always loved Brandon more, and I've always loved Brenda more. That whole dibs shit Donna mentioned; did Kelly love me before Bren went to Paris? Was it unrequited? Did Anteros punish me by ensuring Brenda would be without ID when coming back from Baja? Did the wrath of Anteros translate to The Grapes of Wrath?
Dylan's cogitation picked up its pace, wondering if Anteros had puppeteered Brenda's heartrending decision to remain in London, if Anteros had planted the idea of false charges into Jim's brain, if Anteros had made it to where Brenda would be in Paris whilst Kelly stayed behind; even if Anteros had directed the Superman wannabe towards Brenda.
Furthermore, if Anteros had orchestrated that entire summer from hell.
Did I fall into Anteros' trap when I made the choice to cheat on Bren?
"Or maybe I just never moved past you, as hard as I've tried, and getting pregnant with Connor was my wakeup call that I really needed to let you go completely." Brenda held out her arms for Aiden. Dylan grudgingly returned the infant to her grasp. "I don't know about that theory, Dylan, but I suppose -" she rocked Aiden in her arms, thinking, "- well, I wouldn't cheat on Connor because it's been an incredibly long time since I've cheated on anyone and I swore to myself after that day in the park that I would never do it again, that I would never make anyone feel the way I felt then, but…I suppose it could be possible that he and I broke up, you and I ran into each other nine months ago, and then those memories were manipulated to make Connor and I forget we had broken up and you to forget you saw me. You weren't in New York about nine months ago, were you?"
"I wasn't. I had a work trip up to Boston, but never got down to New York."
"Boston?" Brenda's skin whitened until Dylan became convinced that her flesh had been glazed over with mint ice-cream. "You," her voice quivered, "you were in Boston?"
"I was. You okay, Bren?" Worried she would faint, he conjured up a bed for her to sink into.
"You were in Boston," she repeated. "Nine months ago, you were in Boston," she said again.
"Brenda, you're really starting to worry me." Dylan snatched a thick woolen blanket from the air to wrap around Brenda and Aiden. "Yeah, I was in Boston. What of it?"
"Dylan, I was in Boston nine months ago."
"What?" His organs ploughed into each other. "You said you were in New York."
"I was, on a months-long tour across the East Coast. Our last stop before returning to Cork was Boston, for two weeks." Brenda caressed Aiden's hair. "Boston's a city of thousands, though. Anyone could avoid running into their ex in Boston."
"London's a city of millions, remember? That didn't stop us." The pace of Dylan's heart competed in a triathlon as he dove onto the bed and tugged on the blanket to get Brenda to sit as close to him as they were permitted.
"I just don't think I'd forget something like that." Brenda scooted across the bed until she was unknowingly almost in Dylan's lap. Dylan scooped her up in the blanket and set his nose in its fabric. If that was the only way he could snuggle his old Brenda, he would take it. "Seeing you again," she said. "Sleeping with you. Breaking up with Connor, however many times."
"Did you ever feel the slightest bit hesitant about marrying Monaghan? Be honest with me, Bren."
"I mean, I did, but that's to be expected, especially after that close call with Stuart -"
"Baby." Refusing to listen to anything spoken about his old nemesis Stuart Carson, Dylan immediately cut her off. "One time; that's all we would've needed to create this perfect child." He cupped Aiden's fist with one hand, whilst his other hand burrowed around Brenda's blanket. "Might've been more than once. We could've been together in Boston, even if only for a week. And then when we flew back, maybe on the planes, it all vanished. Did you go through a storm on your way back?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Did you go through a storm on your -"
"I did, but we were flying over the ocean and into Ireland, in the middle of winter. It would have been crazier to not have a storm."
"And I was flying back to LA, yet I also encountered a storm."
"Over the Midwest or central states? That's so surprising," she said drily.
"How about over the fu - fracking Great Basin Desert. Is that a little more surprising?"
Gobsmacked into rumination, Brenda looked at Aiden and then back towards the sound of Dylan's voice.
"You think the storms were more than a storm?" she inquired.
"You know the old tales about the gods and storms, right?"
"Well yeah, but -"
"Baby, you can forget anything if a Master Manipulator is involved. Maybe the storms happened to make us forget. Maybe you did and I haven't, just like Past Me. Maybe the memories are still there in my brain, fighting to become unclouded, and that's why I can hold Aiden. Because he's ours."
"I don't know, Dylan. It seems like such a stretch."
"Then why did I dream of you while you were still pregnant, when you were close to giving birth? Why can I hold Aiden?"
"Maybe he's letting you because you look like someone he knows."
"Yeah, I look like his father," Dylan insisted. "He'd know his father."
"But he's got Connor's hair," said Brenda.
"You sure about that, babe? Look again."
Curls. Aiden had a head of curls, the same curls Brenda had loved to play with on Dylan's head.
"He's got my curls, Bren. You loved my curls, remember?"
"I do remember, but these curls could've come from anywhere. Aiden's hair color matches Connor's, and so do his eyes."
"Aiden's clearly got your eyes. In case you haven't noticed, babe, not only do you have a head of lush, beautiful, dark hair yourself, but so do I."
"Yeah, once you got rid of that light brown blond highlighted thing you had going on."
Dylan stared at her, slack-jawed. "How do you know about that?"
"Dunno. Must've seen photos."
"Really?" His tone filled to the brim with skepticism. "Because I made sure any and all photos with that disastrous haircut were either destroyed or sealed up where Steve couldn't share them."
"Oh." Brenda's shoulder raised into a shrug. "Then I don't know how I know."
"I do." Dylan could barely contain himself. "You saw me, Brenda. You saw me right around the time the media started gossiping about you and Monaghan. And if you saw me then, eight years ago, who knows how many times we've seen each other since?"
He told Brenda about dreaming up their Madeline and how he hadn't been able to hold her when she had been more than willing to let him. Brenda asked how Maddie was doing. Dylan told her that Maddie greatly missed them both. He told Brenda of the project he had tasked Maddie with to help him learn what had gone wrong in their other pasts so that he could know how to fix those pasts and avoid making the same mistakes.
Brenda listed off other physical traits Aiden had inherited from Connor Monaghan, which Dylan pointed out either belonged to Brenda or to himself.
"Face it, babe; you married the blue-eyed, Irish version of me."
"I did not. You and Connor don't look anything alike."
"And our son doesn't look like him, either."
"Okay, but just take a second and think about what you're saying, Dylan. If any of it is true, then you weren't there for Aiden's birth."
"Or to watch you expand, feel him move, hear his heart beating inside you, buy you saltines and ginger ale, satisfy your cravings in more ways than one…"
"Exactly. You weren't there for any of it. Connor was; for every appointment, every scan, every time I woke up at 3am with an intense craving for tiramisu. Wouldn't it upset you to know that?"
"You bet your gorgeous ass it would."
"Then why do you want this so badly?"
"Because I feel it, Brenda. I feel it in my gut, and I don't think it's just because Aiden feels like mine. You said Val thought I'd crash the wedding, right? Why would she expect that after such a long time apart? Maybe you've told Val each time we've met up, and when she's also forced to forget, that knowledge becomes an inkling. One of Val's hunches."
"Oh God," said Brenda, "not Val's hunches."
"They can be right, sometimes," said Dylan.
Brenda audibly wondered if Dylan's theory explained why he had considered crashing her wedding and if it had made him think of her.
Dylan said he had always thought of her.
"Wouldn't anyone else know if we'd met? Wouldn't Steve? He's forever pestering me about visiting Maddie more."
"Maybe we never get the chance to tell anyone else besides Val."
"But why would I sleep with you after what happened in London?" she asked in a last-ditch attempt to convince Dylan to discard his theory. "After you went and hooked back up with Kelly?"
"First of all, that hookup lasted a grand total of two weeks before Kelly accused me of saying your name in bed."
He told Brenda about searching London for her, that he had gone to multiple European cities trying to find her.
"I'd moved to Dublin for a couple of months before I got everything arranged with Cork," said Brenda, dazed by Dylan's story.
"I know that now," he said. "I didn't know that then. We'd never even discussed Ireland. It didn't cross my mind."
"It was a surprising move for me, too. But once you've seen Ireland, it's hard to leave it."
Brenda fingered the chain on her neck, the same harp necklace he had seen in the previous dream. Dylan knew from his recent reading all about the symbolic meaning the harp held in Ireland.
Must've been a gift from fucking Monaghan, maybe on their fucking wedding day.
"What's secondly?" asked Brenda.
"Secondly," said Dylan as he tried to prevent himself from destroying her necklace with his mind, "because you can't resist me, just like I can't resist you. Maybe every time we meet up, the memories temporarily return before they're stolen again. Maybe when we conceived Aiden, we were the ones who got engaged, or even eloped, and you instinctively assumed that I would go to Cork to stop my girl from marrying someone else. A single kiss, sober or drunk, and we both would've been goners."
"That's the cockiest -"
"Tell me you aren't thinking about sleeping with me right now."
"We literally can't."
"So you're telling me if we could, you would?"
The flush staining her visage told him all he needed to know.
"That's not the point," she said. "The whole thing is so far-fetched."
"More far-fetched than a fairy letting me go back in time to fix us?"
"That one, I can believe." Brenda rubbed her hand across Aiden's back. His little noises told Dylan that Aiden would soon be asleep, which perhaps meant that he would awaken outside of their dream and cause Brenda to awaken, too.
"You believe that one? Why?" He ruffled Aiden's hair, wanting to hold on to the waning minutes he had with both of them.
"Because it happened to -"
It happened to me / Morning comes too late tomorrow / All you lose is the dream you borrow / All you got is a soul that's born to be free and cries to the wind / Waiting for you / My dream will find you someday / I stand beside my vision of you / And have you loving me / I still love you.
"Oh come on! Not now," Dylan gave a guttural groan.
"What is it?"
"Looks like you won't be the one disappearing this time, Bren. That would be the radio alarm clock your brother made me buy."
"Brandon made you buy an alarm clock?"
"He said I'd never wake up in time for work without one."
"Hold on; you have a job? You didn't have a job when we were sixteen."
"I didn't have a lot of things at sixteen. Like a job, a roommate, a good relationship with my future wife's dad, the knowledge that I would have to go back in time to make my girl my wife."
"You have a good relationship with Dad?"
"I do. With any luck, I'll be able to keep it," he winked. "Listen to genuinely interesting stories about Woodstock and soda fountains enough and pretty soon, I'm gonna be Jimbo's favorite." Dylan buried his nose in Aiden's new baby smell before giving a kiss to the head of the most beautiful baby he had ever seen. "Gotta get up now. Just, get a paternity test done for Aiden, please? It doesn't hurt, and it'll help us to figure this out."
"I can't do that, Dylan."
"If you're worried about how the test will affect our son -"
"I'm not worried about how it will affect my son."
"I'll love him either way because he's half-you and I'm confident this won't be the last time he's featured in our dreams, but if he is ours, don't you think you, me, and the little guy all deserve to know?"
"Dylan, listen to me. I can't get a paternity test because it doesn't -"
Exist on the stars, it was so easy / All we got to do is get a little faith in you.
"What'd you say?" Dylan struggled to block out the music taking charge of his eardrums.
"I said it doesn't -"
Love is a magic word if you ever find inner life / But from that very first look in your eyes
"Brenda, I can barely hear you!"
I see you and I have but one heart / Only our bodies were apart.
"Just forget it," said Brenda through her frustration.
"Never. I'll never forget it," said Dylan. "Next time, I choose the place for our meeting."
"You're assuming there will be a next time."
"There will be a hundred thousand billion next times until you and I are fixed and our future together is cemented. Bring our son along, please."
"Dylan, on the off chance that your crazy theory is true, then I guess you should know that Aiden; Aiden was a twin."
One eye opened, bringing with it the groggy sensation of an unwanted morning. He shoved his elbow into the clock radio until there came the satisfactory muffled noise that indicated the blasted siren had successfully crashed to the carpet.
Brenda had tried to tell him something, and Dylan was going back to that lake to hear it.
His face had barely sunk into his pillow when a loud knock disturbed his planned journey.
"Dylan, Brenda's on the phone! Did you want to talk to her?"
The lake could wait.
He scrambled out of bed, opening the door to reveal Nat holding out the cordless phone.
"Thanks, Nat."
"Breakfast's on the table."
"You made breakfast?" Dylan asked, touched by the gesture.
His was not a family of people who sat together with a homemade breakfast, or even a family where the matriarch cooked a large meal and watched as the various members of her family grabbed something to go.
"It's your first day of work. Gotta have a nice breakfast to energize you for the rest of the day."
"You're the best."
"Talk to your girl, Dylan, my boy," said Nat with a knowing grin. "I need to get dressed for work myself. Got a large crowd coming in this morning. Have you ever heard of the Popcorn King?"
"The Popcorn King?" asked Dylan. "Yeah; actually, we know his son. Cool kid."
"Is that the one I met when you all brought him into the diner after your camping medical drama?"
Dylan confirmed it was.
"He must've told his Pop about the Pit. They rented out the entire place for a morning meeting. Thanks, Dylan, and thank the other kids for me. This could drum up a lot of business for the diner."
"You deserve it, Nat," said Dylan as he clapped his surrogate father's back.
Nat was becoming less of a surrogate father by the day, which made it more difficult for Dylan to figure out what he was going to do about Jack when it came time to write a letter.
Write a good character letter; Jack will get released, try to be a dad, become Marchette's target. Write a bad character letter and he could still be released, still be Marchette's target, and restart his favorite game of beating on me when I've disappointed him.
"I'm fine, Brandon, honestly! Look, I appreciate your concern, but you don't have to ask me how I am every five seconds."
"Brenda, if you were fine, then I would feel fine, too. I don't feel fine, which is how I know you don't feel fine."
"Bren?" Balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder as he slipped into an ensemble more professional than boxers and a tank, Dylan interrupted the twins' quarrel. "Brandon's right; if he doesn't feel fine, then you aren't. Did you take your medication? Are you icing your neck?"
"Woah, slow down there, honey." Brenda's smile could be heard through her voice. "Yes, I took my medication. Yes, I've been taking turns icing and heating my neck. Yes, I'm going crazy from boredom and I've already read about seven books. Between Bran, Val, Don and my parents, do you really think I could get away with not following doctors' orders?"
"Glad they're taking care of you, but don't think I'm not dropping by later."
"Yeah, I know. That's not why I called. I wanted to wish you luck on your first day. I'm so proud of you, Dylan, and I really wish I could be there!" she yelled out to drive home her boredom.
Warmth swelled within him.
"Don't forget to eat," she added.
He watched his smile grow through the mirror. "No worries, dear. Nat made breakfast."
"Oh good. I was hoping he would. I tried to wake up early to bake you something, but Val silenced my alarm without me knowing."
"As she should. You need your rest."
"I've been resting, Dylan. I've barely done anything else since we got back."
"So you're all healed, then?"
"Well, no, but -"
"Then I'm with Val. Keep resting."
"Dylan," her pout sounded through the phone.
"Brenda. Don't you want to be healed up before you start your own job? Before junior year? Before your audition? I can't imagine having aches and pains is gonna help too much in rehearsal."
"Ugh," she dragged out. "Okay, fine. But for the record, you're making a much bigger deal out of this than it is."
"Oh yeah, 'cause ending up in the hospital after terrifying your friends is no big deal. It won't be much longer. Just let us take care of you and then you can go bungee jumping, if you insist on it."
"Very funny."
Dylan debated which bottoms would be suitable for the dress code, which initiated the realization that he owned far too many jeans. "I tell you what. You do exactly as the doctor told you and you can take me shopping, okay?"
"But you hate shopping."
"I need more clothes I can wear to work and I'd much rather go shopping with you than by myself."
"Can we hit up the local garage and yard sales? I know one that always has great stuff."
"No mall? Designer brands?"
"God, the mall is so dull. I got my fill of it last year. You waste hours there, they never have anything good, it's all way too overpriced, and you can go to one of those vintage boutiques to get a lot more bang for your buck."
"I've got plenty of buck to go around."
"Except I know you and you'd never spend a ton of money on clothes."
Dylan couldn't stop his grin widening across his face as he worked on buttoning his shirt. "Okay, we'll go yard sailing and hit up the boutiques, if you agree to also go car shopping with me."
Brenda gasped. "You're selling the Porsche? Shit, did Val total it? Do I have to kick her ass for that?"
"Not even a dent, Bren. She must've been extra careful. I'm keeping the Porsche. Too many great memories of us in it. But I couldn't even drive us back from Yosemite because you wouldn't've had enough room to stretch out if you started hurting. I need a second car, at least a four-seater. Help me look?"
"Of course I'll help you look."
"Then it's settled. We'll go clothes and car shopping, if you stay home and keep resting."
"So not cool," Brenda groused.
"Do we have a deal, Bren?"
"Yes, we have a deal," she said grudgingly. "Did you go with a button down?"
"I did." Dylan's smile seemed permanently etched in his face. "The blue one."
"Ooh, good. I love you in blue."
Dylan made a mental note to wear blue more often.
"Or any color, really," said Brenda.
He amended the note to remind him to ensure he had a colorful wardrobe, especially since Emilio Reina had no problem wearing pastels.
"Magenta?" asked Dylan.
"Are you just saying that because Emilio wore magenta that day at the beach club?"
"How do you remember Reina wore magenta?" Dylan glowered into the mirror.
"Because I was impressed that he had the guts to wear magenta. And then he wore hot pink to dress rehearsal, which took even more guts. I like when guys aren't afraid to break out of the dress code society has deemed is acceptable for them."
Dylan questioned if he should add magenta and hot pink to his own wardrobe.
"Is that why you wear Brandon's shirts and your dad's ties? To defy societal conventions?"
"That and they look great on me, don't you think?"
"Everything looks great on you, Brenda. I seem to remember you had started wearing some of my shirts before we broke up."
"Is that only an option as your girlfriend? Because I'd really like to borrow some of those again."
"Borrow, or steal?" Dylan teased.
"It's not stealing if I give them back, eventually."
"Please let her, D. I'd like my own shirts back," Brandon hollered over the phone. "Especially that green one."
"Too late," said Brenda. "Green one's mine."
"I bought that green shirt with my own Christmas money," said Brandon.
"And when we were on the cliff, you promised you'd give me anything I wanted if I could just hang on. So I claim my green shirt."
"Oh great, you're gonna milk that for the rest of our lives, aren't you?"
"Maybe."
"I miss you guys," said Dylan.
"You were just here yesterday," said Brenda.
"Yeah and now it's today, and I'd rather hang with you than go to work. Donna's still staying there?"
"For now. I can't tell if Bran loves all this estrogen surrounding him, or wants you to invite him to move in with you and Nat."
"Tell him the offer's always open, as long as him moving in won't affect things with your parents. Your dad and I somehow got to a good place. I want to keep it there."
"Dad's been over the moon since you called him up during his Minneapolis trip to ask him for writing advice. Brandon's gonna have to work double time to still be Dad's favorite."
"I heard that and I'm not Dad's favorite!" shouted Brandon.
"Well not anymore," Brenda replied with a giggle. "Not unless you change your mind about the presidency."
"Yeah, no. Dad's just gonna have to deal with the fact that I don't want to be president."
"And you're gonna tell him that when?" asked Brenda.
"Eventually," said Brandon.
Brenda said Felice Martin had dropped by Casa Walsh late the previous night, demanding to see her daughter. Donna had refused. Felice had held her ground until Donna had gone down with Brandon to see her.
"With Brandon?" asked Dylan.
"Donna thought having a mediator around would be good. She asked Mom and Brandon, since I wasn't permitted by anyone to go down and Val's the last person you want trying to mediate anything."
"So how'd it go?"
"Lots of yelling, lots of tears. Felice reminded Donna that she is her mother. Donna said she no longer had a mother and if Felice tried to pull legal rights on her, Donna would file for emancipation. Poor Don ended up crying on Brandon, and then on me when she came upstairs. Mom convinced Felice to go home, cool down, and come back another time to sort things out in that way that only Mom can."
"Damn. Donna really threatened emancipation?"
"I think she's been spending too much time around you, honestly."
"Could be."
"But Felice really hurt her and with Doctor Martin not looking to wake up anytime soon, Donna could do whatever it takes to separate herself from her mother."
"Tell her I'll help, if she needs it."
"You'd go against Felice Martin?"
"I've gone against worse," said Dylan without further elaboration.
"I'll tell her. I'm sure she'd appreciate whatever kind of help you'd give. Dylan?"
"Hmm?" he asked as he grabbed his car keys.
"Do you think I was too hard on Kelly?"
He halted by the dresser. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I don't like the way she's been talking to Donna lately, but I didn't think that calling her out on it would cause Kelly to lose so much so quickly and everything with her mom; I just feel so bad, especially after Kel was so nice in going to the clinic with us and asking her mom to let me stay with them."
"Was she, Bren? Or did she plan to hang that over your head so that whenever you got upset with her, she could remind you of how she was there for you when you needed someone?"
"You really think she'd do that?"
"I don't know what she'd do, and until we know, I think it's better if we both avoid Kelly as much as possible."
Dylan didn't know whether to tell Brenda what Kelly had told him, or to keep quiet about it.
"Steve has issues with his dad," Dylan pointed out. "Has he ever depreciated Donna like that?"
"Not that I know of."
"Did Val tell you what happened with her and Kelly?"
"No; why, what happened?"
"You better ask Val."
"Okay, I'll add it to the list. Now go eat breakfast and hopefully at some point, my overly protective friends and family will let me come visit you, maybe for lunch."
"I'd love that."
"Bren," Valerie's voice came in slightly muffled, "some guy's here and he brought you flowers."
"Some guy?"
"Idunno; I think Brandon called him Emilio? Girl, he is fucking beautiful. I don't know how you keep finding these mega attractive guys who are into brunette queens, but please, point me in the direction I need to go to find them myself. Should I send him up?"
Dylan held his breath, waiting to hear Brenda's answer.
"Can you ask if he can come back later? We're supposed to look over the interview we did together and I completely forgot to cancel on him after everything that happened this weekend. I was actually about to try to go back to sleep after I get off the phone with Dylan, who," and here her voice sharpened, "should be getting to work!"
"Morning, Kit-Kat!" yelled out Valerie. "Doing the whole 9 to 5?"
Dylan greeted Valerie and told her his shift that week thankfully only bordered on the standard work day. He would transition to part-time when the new school year began.
"Dylan, are you watching the clock?" asked Brenda.
"It's fine, Bren," he said. "I still have enough time to eat and get to the Y. Kick back and relax, baby."
"I'm tired of relaxing."
"I'll see you later and then we can spice up the relaxing a bit."
"Really? How?"
"I'm thinking something," Dylan purposely cut himself off.
"Something what?"
"Oh, would you look at the time. I gotta go."
"Dylan! Something what? It better not be a surprise!"
"Bren, if you don't want surprises, you should have never fallen for me. Because when it comes to you, I'm an endless fountain of them."
"And when it comes to anyone else?"
"Wouldn't know. You're the only one I want to plan surprises for."
"That's because you know I hate them and you get your kicks off making me wait," Brenda grumbled.
"Now, is that any way to speak to me before I go off to my brand-new job?"
"Have a good day at work, honey."
"No need to be so smarmy."
"Then will you tell me what you have planned?"
"Nope," he said. "But Bren?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't ever fall for anyone named Connor." Dylan ended the call. "And don't fall for friggin' Reina, either," he said to his empty room.
Managing to scarf down most of the meal Nat had prepared, Dylan took off for the Y.
He impressed Adam with his ensemble choice, though Adam suggested that Dylan dress a little more casually the next day. Dylan thanked Adam for allowing him to start the job mid-week and for understanding about Brenda's emergency.
"This Brenda must be pretty special for you to ask to start later so you could take care of her," said Adam.
"She is," said Dylan. "You have anyone like that?"
"I did," Adam grew thoughtful, "but when coaching on the Gold Coast called, my ex jumped at the chance. Not that I can blame him. I know I'd do the exact same."
"So you're about, what, mid-twenties?" asked Dylan.
"Around there," said Adam. "Why, you know anyone my age who's looking?"
"Not sure, but I'll keep it in mind."
Dylan completed the onboarding paperwork, reading it thoroughly to ensure he met all required standards.
The one thing that concerned him was the Y's zero tolerance rule for drug use. He'd lacked any attraction towards drugs that summer, but if he was still employed with the Y by the time Kevin and Suzanne tried to take his money…
Well, he would be in London by that time anyway, wouldn't he? If Chris thought his play good enough to use, Dylan could be on his way to enrolling in a writing program that could potentially be in the same school as Brenda, or nearby.
Her latest additions to the prospective list of universities were Guildhall in London and the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama in Glasgow. After the accolades Brenda had received from her role as Titania, Chris had encouraged her to look into the Royal Shakespeare Company in Shakespeare's birthplace of Stratford-upon-Avon.
Wherever Brenda chose to end up, and hopefully allowed Dylan to follow, it seemed like Europe was still the top contender.
In order to join one of the programs himself, he had to excel in his studies for the next two years. As an incentive, he had offered Brenda one surf lesson for every time she agreed to help him study.
He refused to even step foot on the CU campus.
Dylan was disappointed to not start the actual coaching part of his job, but understood that the sooner he completed his training, the sooner he could start working with the kids.
Either way, he was earning a paycheck that he could put into Nat's bank account and, perhaps eventually, Brenda's college fund.
Not that she would ever agree to it. He'd have to give her the money secretly, the way he had secretly paid her medical bills.
Or tried to, anyway; Brenda had picked up on that the second Cindy had received the call from their insurance that the bills had been cleared.
If Brenda thought Dylan wealthy now just off of his inheritance from his McKay grandparents, she would surely faint from shock when he gained control of his trust fund.
He'd ask Iris to dissolve some of it for his eighteenth birthday, just enough money to help him and Brenda in the first few months of their international move. Dylan no longer wanted to live off of the fund that Jack gave Iris in order to send her away, not when Dylan now knew that he could make money on his own long before Ramboll.
Dylan called Casa Walsh on his lunch break, asking to speak with Brandon to secure his involvement in the plan. Donna also offered to help. She would be spending the day with Steve and his mother and told Dylan that she would ask for Steve's assistance.
Brandon said Valerie would absolutely be up to the idea. He would speak to her about it later, as she had gone to look at records with David.
"With David, huh?" asked Dylan. "Think our Val has a little crush?"
"How's she 'our' Val when you haven't even known her a week?" asked Brandon.
"Feels like I've known her longer."
"Yeah, Valerie tends to have that effect on people. I'd say it's that Buffalo attitude she picked up, but she's always been like this."
"Donna crying on your shoulder mean anything?"
"I have nice shoulders," said Brandon.
"Walsh, you are smitten and you know it."
"Thanks for the analysis, Christopher Marlowe."
"Joke's on you. Marlowe was around before smitten came to mean what it does today."
"Damn, the Chief gets you to agree to one book review and you're already spouting off origin facts."
Dylan set about preparing the pool area for his first coaching session. His heart became weighted down as he thought back to when he and Steve had taught Madeline to swim.
It lightened when he thought of teaching his future children to swim, with Brenda hanging onto his back as he swung his family around.
"Hey, is sign-up for classes still open? My brother wants to learn from the best and well, we hear you're one of the best."
Dylan looked up and smiled at the kid. "Well, I don't know about that, but I think you can still register." He glanced at the kid's brother. "Scott?"
Scott Scanlon appeared as shocked as Dylan. "Dylan McKay? You work here?"
"Yeah, just started today. You a regular?"
"Not really," said Scott.
"He volunteers down the street," piped up the younger Scanlon.
"You do?" asked Dylan.
"Just at the Boys & Girls Club," said Scott. "My mom said it would look good on my college application."
"Actually, Mom didn't even want him to -"
The kid was silenced by his brother's hand flying over his mouth.
"Look, man, I think it's great that you volunteer there," said Dylan. "If you don't want me to tell anyone, I won't."
"It's just, I don't do it for the recognition, you know? I do it because I like the kids."
"I get it. Your secret's safe with me." Dylan patted the secret into his nonexistent shirt pocket. "We missed you at camping."
"Oh man, I would've loved to be there. Is it true what David told me? Did he really help save the Walsh twins?"
"It's true," said Dylan. "Silver was a huge help."
"I'm glad. I don't know Brandon all that well, but Brenda's always been really nice to me. I would've hated for anything to happen to her."
"Thank you. We were really lucky to be able to bring her home with us." Dylan sought to keep the emotion out of his voice, still raw over seeing Brenda hanging onto that cliff without knowing whether she would live or be erased from existence. "Why don't you come over to Steve Sanders' place? He's throwing a farewell to summer party this Saturday, before school starts. I bet David would be glad to have you there, and Bren will be there as well. So you'll already know three people."
"I don't know. I'm not exactly a cool guy, and Steve Sanders isn't exactly known for being fond of anyone outside of the cool crowd. I mean, I don't drink or anything and everyone knows Steve throws some wild parties. I like who I am, which people like Steve are never able to understand."
"Hey, there is absolutely nothing wrong in liking yourself. You'd be surprised how many popular kids wish they could feel the same. I won't be drinking, either. You like Brenda, which automatically makes you a cool guy in my book and in Brandon's."
"Really?" Scott gave a lopsided smile. "Thanks. I can't promise anything because my mom doesn't let me go anywhere without meeting the parents first, but I'll consider it."
"Easy fix," said Dylan. "We'll just have your mom meet Samantha Sanders."
"Samantha Sanders of The Hartley House?" Scott's eyes enlarged until his reaction teetered on cartoonish. "Holy pickled pepper, my dad loves her!"
"She's Steve's mom," said Dylan.
"Wow, I didn't even put that together!" said Scott. "I better make sure Dad doesn't crash the party himself."
"The more, the merrier," said Dylan, perhaps as slight payback to Steve for the spiking of Brandon's drink that led to Brandon's out-of-control drinking at his own party.
Even in his later years when he would rather down a beer than grab a soda, Dylan had never been one for parties. He had agreed to go at Brenda's request, largely to ensure Brandon didn't touch another one of Steve's mucho marvelous mango margaritas so soon after the return of Brandon's formerly suspended license.
Dylan didn't know how or why he had become the designated driver of the group, but if it helped him to avoid drinking himself, so much the better.
He helped Petey Scanlon to become registered for the class and pretended that Scott had dropped a twenty dollar bill when Scott had come up short on the registration fee. Dylan ignored Scott's protest, saying that any kid who wanted to learn how to swim should be given the opportunity. He then told Scott that Brenda would be in charge of the theatre program. Scott said his younger sister, Sue, might be interested in learning from Brenda after what Scott called Brenda's magnificent summer performance.
Once his shift ended, Dylan ran around on errand after errand, finalizing his plans for Brenda.
He stopped into the Pit, where he was thrilled to hear that Robinson Ashe Jr. and his employees had loved the atmosphere of the diner so much that hosting inquiries from other Californian bigwigs had already poured in. Nat was rapturous about possibly recapturing the glory days of the old diner, primarily for the reason that he would be able to give Willie Harris the raise Nat told Dylan he had tried to give Willie for years.
"You're finally here," said Brenda when Brandon let Dylan into the house. "I thought you were gonna leave me hanging like that." She took one look at Dylan's expression and said, "what, too soon?"
"Way too soon," he said. "I can tell you right now it's always gonna be too soon."
"Sorry, honey." Setting down her novel, Brenda stood to embrace Dylan and ask about his day.
Dylan held her to his side as he shared about the training, the plans he and Adam had made for new surf competitions they had discussed starting, and about Nat's diner success.
"That's incredible," said Brandon, smacking his hands together. "We gotta do something to show the Ashes how much we appreciate them supporting Nat like that. I gotta do something for Robinson to thank him for telling his dad about the Pit. Willie definitely deserves that raise. He's been Nat's second-in-command since Nat took over the business."
"And Willie's coffee making skills are way better than Nat's," said Dylan. "Even Nat has admitted that to me recently. We'll think of something. The Ashe family is one of the wealthiest families around. Whatever we do will have to be more sentimental than financial."
"What's more sentimental than financial?" asked Steve, walking through the door with Donna.
"Robinson told his dad about the Pit and now Nat's getting requests from everywhere," said Brandon. "We have to do something in return."
"We can help him with the ladies," suggested Steve.
"I don't think Robinson needs any help in that department, Steve," laughed Donna.
Dylan wondered if Donna noticed the less-than-subtle way Brandon reacted to her statement.
"Ah, so our Donna has a crush on little Robinson?" asked Steve.
"Oh, Don's interested in someone, alright, but I don't think it's Robinson," teased Brenda.
"He's a really terrific guy, but I think Andrea's more of his type," said Donna, aiming a slight glare towards Brenda.
"Andrea?" Steve's perpetual grin slid right off of his face.
"Does someone like Andrea?" asked Brandon.
"Oh no," said Steve, repeating "no" several times. "No way am I getting interested in anyone else crushing on either of you two." He pointed to Brandon and Dylan. "I learned that lesson twice already, first with; well, you know, and second with Stace. Everyone knows Andrea's got the biggest crush on Brandon. There's no way she'd even be interested in someone like me."
"Someone like you?" asked both Dylan and Brandon, who looked at each other in confusion of Steve's rarely shown vulnerability.
"Yeah, someone like me. She's looking for someone serious, steady, scholarly, and I'm just here to have a good time."
"Kinda sounds like you like her," said Donna.
"Can we all just drop it?"
"Fine," said Brandon. "You guys ready?"
"Ready for what?" asked Brenda.
"Not you," said Dylan. "They're meeting David and Val at the movies. You and I are staying in."
"Dylan, I'm perfectly fine to go to the movies."
"Brenda, we postponed our original plans until you're all better, so just humor me on this."
"Brandon?" Brenda pleaded.
"We're gonna see a movie about slaughtering puppies," said Brandon.
"What?" screamed Donna.
"You are not," said Brenda.
"It was worth a shot," said Brandon.
"This surprise better be worth it," said Brenda, stomping away from the group.
"I'll double-check that Bren knows which outfit I picked out for her," said Donna.
Steve said he would call David to confirm which of them would be sneaking in the snacks to the theatre.
"Rich kids sneak in snacks, too, huh?" asked Brandon.
"Snack prices at the movies are ridiculously overpriced for anyone, the rich included," said Dylan.
"Maybe the movies will eventually get so expensive that everyone will only be able to afford watching them at home."
"Maybe." Dylan stopped himself from smiling at Brandon's prediction. "She doesn't know anything?" he added.
"We kept her away from the backyard the whole day," Brandon assured.
"Your parents?"
"Dad's still in Minneapolis and Steve's mom invited Mom out for the night. Just make sure you're done and everything's out by curfew."
"Appreciate you, man." Dylan thumped Brandon's shoulder.
"Appreciate you taking care of my sister when I couldn't," said Brandon.
"You know I'd give her the moon if she would accept it from me. But she'd -"
"- tell you it was too expensive and make you take it back," said Brandon in a chuckle.
"So you, Donna and Steve, plus David and Val? Is this like a date night with Sanders as the fifth wheel?" asked Dylan.
"It's us getting out of the house so you can put your plan into effect for my sister. Don't read too much into it."
"Sure, Brando."
"You've been hanging around Bren too much. She's turning you into her matchmaking accomplice."
"Oh yeah, for you and your nice shoulders," said Dylan, with emphasis.
"Look, McKay." Brandon's tone grew serious. "Before this summer, I dated; well, a pretty large amount of girls. And also before this summer, I'd really started to like Kelly, as you know. Then during this summer, I thought for sure I'd want to date Stacey if she and Steve broke up. I don't want to keep jumping from girl to girl, but I'm also nowhere close to settling down with anyone so early in my life like you wanna do. So if, hypothetically, I've developed an interest in someone else, especially someone who is hypothetically extremely tight with my sister, then I just need to know there's something there, some kind of sustenance that could potentially be the real thing before I dive back in, okay?"
"Okay," agreed Dylan. "But Bren's right, man."
"Right about what?"
"You really do suck at the hypotheticals."
Dylan made sure Brenda was occupied with a phone call to her maternal cousin Lottie before he busied himself in the backyard to add the final touches.
Brenda met him at the bottom of the stairs, where Dylan confirmed that she could indeed go outside.
He didn't think he had ever seen Brenda half as shocked as she was upon sight of the backyard.
"How -" Brenda barely got out as she swung around in a bold shift dress and knee-high white Go-go boots that could have easily knocked Dylan over with how fucking enticing she looked in them.
"Steve's mom knows someone who knows someone who knows someone, who did the sets for the film," said Dylan. "Samantha agreed to make an appearance at their child's birthday party in exchange for us borrowing this set for the night."
"Dylan, it's like we're looking out the window at the Catskills!"
"I might've asked Val for a bit of help in that department," he said, standing behind Brenda as he grasped her waist. "We couldn't bring the Catskills to you like they filmed in, but hopefully this is an acceptable stand-in. And window views of mountains are all you're allowed to get after Yosemite."
"So no mountains on our honeymoon, then?"
His sharp swallow cut into his jaw. "Does that mean we'll have one?"
"I mean, no one's ever turned my backyard into my favorite movie before," said Brenda. "I can't believe you did all this, just to make me feel better that I've had to stay home in endless boredom."
"So it's safe to assume you've changed your mind about surprises?"
"No, I still hate them, but oh my God, Dylan; I feel like Johnny is gonna turn the corner at any second."
"Well, we couldn't get Patrick Swayze to show up, but I know a good replacement."
"You didn't actually try to get Patrick, did you?"
"Maybe; maybe not."
"It doesn't matter. This is perfect the way it is."
Dylan walked her over to the picnic blanket laid out upon the yard and helped Brenda to sit down.
"Now, I'll give you as many neck massages as you want, but you need to tell me if the pain gets worse, got it?"
"I will," said Brenda.
Dylan sat next to her, lifting antique silver lids off of recognizable dishes.
"The Pit," Brenda smiled. "I'll have to thank Nat, too."
"I asked him to make your favorites, so hopefully your determination to give me a stroke hasn't made your palate more sophisticated."
"You mean, my near-death experience?"
"I'd prefer to not call it that, but yes, that."
They ate as they watched the film through the projection focused on the painted set. Brenda quoted the movie word-for-word.
"I don't get it, Bren," said Dylan, twirling her hair around his fingers.
"Get what?"
"How a girl who loves classic films, old musicals and Shakespeare can call Dirty Dancing her favorite movie."
"Isn't it obvious?" asked Brenda. "You've met my brother, right?"
"Pretty sure I have, yeah."
"And you know how Brandon hates to dance?"
"I vaguely recall something along those lines."
"Well, Dad willingly dances with Mom. Grandpa willingly dances with Grandma. So every time I watched this movie, it made me hopeful that someday, a guy who isn't related to me would willingly dance with me."
"So your love for this movie has nothing to do with Patrick Swayze?" asked Dylan.
"Well," Brenda tried to hide her smile, "maybe just a little. And it might've helped a bit that, as a brunette girl-next-door kind of character, Frances - Baby - was able to get the guy without one of those Breakfast Club-type makeovers."
"So let's see: brunette gets the guy and guy likes to dance? Well then, how's your neck?"
"Feeling fine at the moment, why?"
Dylan stood and offered out his hand. "Because I think there was a spring dance where the brunette got the guy who really wanted to dance with her, wasn't there? And I'm about ninety-nine point nine percent sure no makeovers were involved."
"Ninety nine point nine?" asked Brenda as she let Dylan bring her to her feet. "What happened to the other point one percent?"
"That would be the ensemble makeover a certain casually-dressed surfer had to undergo to match his date."
"You do clean up nicely," Brenda smiled.
"As nicely as Johnny Castle?"
"Better. Better than Johnny Castle."
"Well, darling, that's some high praise coming from you." Covering her hand with his, Dylan brought Brenda close to him as they began to slow dance in time to the soundtrack.
"I'm not ready for summer to end," Brenda muttered into his collar.
"Neither am I." Dylan breathed in her floral fragrance. "I don't wanna push anything, but you did ask to give you the rest of the summer and well…it's almost over. Have you thought any more about starting junior year together?"
"I have, and it depends."
"On?"
"On something that happened with you and Val."
Dylan attempted to not show the panic enveloping him with its vice-like grip.
If Brenda knew about his hookup with Valerie in their old life, it was one step closer to her knowing about Kelly.
"Bren, I -"
"Wanna tell me how the hell you knew before Val even told anyone about Bran's and my twin thing?" Brenda leant back with acute focus. "I know for an absolute fact that neither of us ever told you considering that isn't something either of us make known to anyone outside of our family who already know, and yet Val says you knew. It's not like we have any pictures of our twin thing for you to suddenly whip out, like when you somehow knew about our family fishing trips."
Fuck.
-x
songs - I Still Love You, Bee Gees & Miracles, Jefferson Starship
Well, I guess the million dollar question is: Should Dylan tell Bren he's from the future?
As always, thanks a million for the readership, reviews, follows, favourites, alerts, discourse, plot ideas, etc. Stay healthy and safe out there. x