Chapter Thirty-Four #2
Dylan sucked in a long breath. This was a risk and they knew two things about it.
One. They couldn’t take it back. Not tomorrow. Not ever.
Two. They could not wait another second longer to say it.
Dylan wiped away one of Vicky’s tears with their thumb. Their voice was low but resolute. “What if I didn’t go back to L.A. tomorrow?” A beat. Then, “What if I stayed?”
“Stayed where?” Vicky asked.
“What if I stayed,” Dylan repeated, “in New York?”
Vicky froze, her eyes flickering fast between Dylan’s. “For how long?”
Dylan smiled at the girl they were pretty sure was their best friend. “For as long as you’re there.”
Vicky’s breath caught. Something like hope tiptoed into her eyes. “You’d stay and we’d—what—date?”
“Yeah,” Dylan said. “For like a week, then I’ll ask you to be my girlfriend and I’ll move in. You got a dope place, right?”
Vicky shoved them, but only lightly and she was starting to smile. “Are you serious?”
“As the heart attack you’ll never have again,” Dylan said, cupping Vicky’s face with both hands. “Not on my watch.”
Dylan planted a soft, slow kiss on Vicky’s parted lips, feeling a well of emotion at the tiny whimper in the back of Vicky’s throat.
Vicky opened her eyes. The streetlight behind her made a shining crown of her hair. “So I’m not just your summer crush?”
It took several seconds for the meaning of Vicky’s question to land. That’s why she’d seemed so disappointed over Hot & Sweaty. Vicky still thought this wasn’t the real deal. “You’re not just my crush, babe,” Dylan said. “I mean, you are, but you’re so much more than that.”
Vicky hesitated. “But what about the beach, and tacos, and sexually curious smokeshows?”
“Honey.” Dylan brushed strands of hair out of Vicky’s face.
“The only sexually curious smokeshow I’m interested in, now and forever, is you.
” They moved even closer, one hand on Vicky’s waist, the other touching her cheek.
“I’m in love with you, Vicky. I’ve always been in love with you and I will always be in love with you. ”
Vicky’s entire being lit up. Her question was disarmingly sweet. “Really?”
“I think it’s pretty obvious,” Dylan said. “Never had much of a poker face.”
And with that, Vicky melted against Dylan, the last vestiges of armor dissolving like sugar in water. Her voice was muffled, even a little huffy, as she pressed her face into Dylan’s neck. “Well, obviously, I’ve always been in love with you, too.”
Joy fountained inside Dylan. They grinned, floating, and squeezed Vicky teasingly. “I think I might need to hear it. Those three little words?”
Vicky lifted her head, both arms still wrapped around Dylan, and smiled. “Okay. Here goes: I. Love. You. I love you, Dylan Rogers.”
And Dylan just about died, right there, on the rainswept street. It felt like the whole world had been waiting for them to find their way back to each other, and now they had. “I love you, too.” Dylan tightened their arms around Vicky, vowing to never, ever let her go. “Hope it was worth the wait.”
“It was,” Vicky said, lifting her mouth, eyes drifting shut.
Just two people, on a quiet street corner, kissing. Two people, with hearts the size of planets and hope as unspoiled as the dawn.
They broke apart, smiling giddily.
“I can’t believe it took us twenty years to get here,” Vicky said. “I guess I really did take the long way home.”
“At least we got here in the end,” Dylan said.
Vicky glanced around. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I want to spend more time here.”
“Because we crushed it in the play and we’ll be local heroes forever?” Dylan kidded.
“Sure.” Vicky smiled. “Also, country life is good for my health.”
“I wanna spend more time here, too. Shame I never found the right space.” Dylan buried their nose in Vicky’s thick hair inhaling her sweeter-than-usual smell. “Did you change your shampoo?”
“No way, I’m loyal. I think it’s the honeysuckle.” Vicky nodded at the wild, flowering vine climbing the iron railing of the abandoned storefront beside them.
They both turned to look at the building. Once Upon a Time. The long-abandoned bookstore.
The bookstore.
Their eyes met again, wider. The flare of possibility Dylan felt was mirrored in Vicky’s expression.
Dylan took her hand, their fingers intertwining with ease. Together, they stepped closer to the window, peering in.
“Good bones,” Dylan murmured, scanning the wide plank floorboards and generous square footage.
“The theater reopening will mean more foot traffic.” Vicky touched the decorative window frames, chipped but sturdy.
“These old fixtures might qualify for a historic restoration tax credit.” She indicated the neglected patio.
“Clean this up and you could argue for an extended-use permit. Tables and chairs for people to gather.” She looked up at Dylan, eyes bright. “Like a real community space.”
That Vicky remembered their dream made Dylan swoon. They nipped at Vicky’s neck. “Your Honor, is it possible that what I’ve been looking for has been in front of me all along?”
Vicky smiled back, her eyes warm and steady. “I think that’s entirely possible.” She nestled against Dylan, letting out a contented sigh. “The defense rests.”
· · ·
Back inside the theater, the after-party was winding down. Deborah was promising Maria free manicures for life. Clyde posed for a selfie with all four teens. Jamie held a sleepy Flora as Mikki hugged Garrett, promising they’d all get lunch.
Dylan and Vicky found Jazz by the edge of the stage, bidding some friends goodbye.
“You’re both still here,” Jazz said in happy surprise.
Her gaze dropped to Dylan’s and Vicky’s intertwined hands.
Satisfaction bloomed over her face. “I’ve always had a sixth sense about casting,” Jazz said slyly. “I know what’ll work.”
“Hold up,” Dylan said. “Was all this—a setup?”
Jazz was tight-lipped. “Let’s just say I knew that everything would work out. It always does.”
“But, how did you know that?” Vicky asked. “You were absolutely certain that this play would happen, even when we all thought it wouldn’t. How did you know?”
“I didn’t.” Jazz trilled a laugh. “I’m white-knuckling it, just like everyone else. But here’s a secret: I always bet on something powerful that never lets me down.”
“What do you bet on?” Dylan asked.
“People,” Jazz said with a fond smile. “I bet on you.”
Dylan’s chest went shuddery-warm as they bashed away a tear.
The crowd continued to thin. Everyone’s loved ones picked up their wet umbrellas and folded programs, saying their goodbyes. Dylan convinced Jazz they could all clean up in the morning before the talkback, sending their director home for some well-earned rest.
“You didn’t just save my theater,” Jazz said, hugging them both. “You saved me. And trust me, I’m not done yet.”
And then it was just Dylan and Vicky, sitting on the edge of the stage, dangling their feet, shoulders pressed together.
“I promise I won’t be a bitch,” Vicky said. “Much.”
“I promise I won’t be a flirt,” Dylan replied. “Much.”
Vicky giggled. The cutest sound in the whole world. Dylan leaned over to kiss a fresh coat of gloss off Vicky’s lips.
“Get a room!” Annie plopped down next to them, followed by Lola.
“You guys made up,” Lola observed, her fingers folding into Annie’s.
“We did.” Dylan nodded, unable to keep a lovestruck grin off their face as they slung an arm around Vicky’s shoulder. “You too.”
Annie and Lola exchanged an infatuated smile. They’d changed out of their costumes and into a funky saffron-yellow dress for Annie, boyfriend jeans and a tee for Lola. “Sure did,” Annie said.
“I’m so sorry again,” Lola said to them all. “I can only imagine how hard and stressful the last twenty-four hours were.”
“The important thing is you came back,” Vicky said generously, and Dylan loved her for it.
“Dying to know,” Dylan said, “what’d Haejun say when you dined and ditched?”
Lola shook her head. “We never even met. I knew I’d made the wrong decision as soon as we took off. When we landed at Heathrow, I ran like a maniac through the airport to get the first commercial flight back, while my agent screamed at me that I’d never work again.” She shrugged. “Maybe I won’t.”
“Ouch.” Dylan winced in solidarity.
But Lola looked unconcerned, her gaze on Annie. “I know I made the right choice.”
Annie smiled back, the living embodiment of the heart-eye emoji, and Dylan wasn’t sure if they’d ever felt this happy.
The Rhodes Playhouse was completely quiet now, every red velvet seat empty. No more rehearsals, no more notes, at least, not for this show.
“Where to?” Dylan asked.
Annie and Lola shrugged, looking as awake as Dylan felt. “Diner?”
“I didn’t have dinner,” Lola added. “Dying for a bite.”
“Lemme guess.” Vicky hopped off the stage, tugging Dylan with her. “Something that’s roast chicken—”
“And salad—” Dylan added.
“And a sandwich,” Annie finished with a cackle.
“Yup.” Lola laughed, sliding off the lip of the stage. “You guys know me so well.”
And what a wonderful feeling that was—to know and be known. To be seen and understood and loved.
The quartet wandered up the aisle, taking in the reawakened grandeur.
The gold and rose gilded plasterwork of the ceiling.
The grand old chandelier. The reverent hush that only theaters have.
Dylan lingered in the doorway, fingers poised over the light switch.
What magic they’d made in here, what wonder.
What damn good fun. It wasn’t the end of their time at the Rhodes Playhouse, but it was the end of something.
Their one-night-only show was over, never to be repeated.
But so many other, even better things were just getting started.
“C’mon, Rogers!” Vicky called from the front entrance. “The night is young! Just like us!”
“Curly fries!” declared Annie, galloping onto the front lawn, chased by a giggly Lola. “We must have curly fries!”
Dylan cast one more look around the beloved old theater and switched off the lights. Crossing the foyer to join the others, they stepped out of the darkness and into the starbright summer night.