23
Dylan
T hen
A little more than a month ago, Brooks did something that left me dumbstruck. He led me back to the old church, the one we’d always seek out when we wanted to vanish from everything else. But he didn’t stop at the usual. This time, he bent reality around it, making it something strange and beautiful.
When we stepped inside, everything felt the same—the familiar dusty smell, the faint traces of dried paint. But then I saw the walls. They were covered in photos. Pictures of us laughing, talking, and just being together. Among the collection, one photo pulled me in. It was from a night after practice, when the guys were all around me, but my gaze never fully left him. It was as though everyone else was invisible, and he became the only thing in focus.
And then, just like it was the most casual thing in the world, he asked me to prom. No big speech. Just him, showing up for me exactly as he always does. I don’t think I even let him finish before I said yes.
Now, I’m in Beckett’s room, standing in front of his full-length mirror while we get ready. He’s fiddling with his bowtie like it’s actively plotting against him, and I’m trying to figure out if my dress is too much.
The burgundy fabric hugs me in a way I’m not used to. The back dips low, leaving a lot more skin exposed than I’d normally be comfortable with. It’s definitely a bolder choice than anything I’d usually go for, but lately, I’ve been trying to step out of my comfort zone.
Brooks has a way of making me feel like I can pull anything off.
Beckett finally gives up on the tie and looks over at me. “Stop overthinking. You look amazing. Brooks is gonna lose his mind when he sees you.”
I laugh under my breath but don’t argue. Brooks has a natural way of making me feel like I don’t have to keep my guard up all the time, like I can just go for it. The dress, saying yes to prom, all of it—it’s because of him.
“Thanks,” I say, smoothing the fabric one last time. “You’re not looking too bad yourself, KitKat.”
Beckett grins, holding out his arms like he’s showing off. His navy suit fits him perfectly, but there’s something off about the energy in the room. “Speaking of looking good, who’s the lucky date tonight?” I bait, trying to lighten the mood.
“Just some girl. Emma Reynolds. We’ve been hanging out a bit.”
Emma. I’ve noticed her before, a junior with long brown hair who always seems to be around. I’ve never seen Beckett act particularly close to her though. At least he’s never mentioned her in the way he talks about things that matter to him.
“Oh,” I say, keeping my tone neutral. “She seems nice.”
“She is,” he confirms, shifting his attention back to the mirror as he adjusts his cufflinks. “It’s not serious, Dilly. We’re just going as friends.”
My head moves slightly in confirmation, even though his attention is elsewhere. Beckett’s never been one to get attached, and this feels no different. Still, there’s a small part of me that wonders what it would be like if he ever did. If he let someone in the way I’ve let Brooks in.
Beckett shifts, grabbing his keys off the desk. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say, adjusting my dress one last time.
When I step outside, Brooks is waiting in the driveway, leaning casually against his truck. The late sun casts a soft glow, but it’s not the light that makes me pause—it’s him. He’s dressed in a crisp white button-up, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the sharp lines of his forearms. His green eyes catch mine as I approach, like I’m the only thing he’s focused on.
He straightens when I reach him, handing me a small, clear box. Inside, I find a dried flower corsage in soft, muted colors—gomphrena blooms, pampas grass, and baby’s breath tied together in a way that’s both simple and thoughtful.
I glance at it, then back at him. “You picked this?”
Brooks rubs the back of his neck, his confidence faltering just enough to make me giggle. “Well, my mom helped. But yeah. I thought it would match your dress.”
It does—perfectly. I reach for it, but before I can slip it onto my wrist, Brooks steps closer, gently taking it from my hand. His fingers brush against my skin as he moves to fasten it for me, his touch hovering just long enough to make my heart skip a beat.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you,” I whisper, watching him with a soft smile.
His expression relaxes, his usual confidence returning. “I’m glad you like it.”
He holds out his hand, and I take it, letting him help me into the truck. As we buckle in, the sound of another car draws our attention. Beckett and Colt cruise past us, the thrum of music and buzz of energy radiating from their car as they speed off to pick up their dates.
We step into the gym as a group, the noise and lights hitting us all at once. Gold and teal bows are tied neatly to every chair, round tables draped in white cloth, and strings of fairy lights crisscrossing the ceiling like stars caught in a net.
Emma spins slowly, taking in every detail. “Wow,” she exclaims, dragging the word out like it deserves to be savored. “This actually looks amazing.”
Beckett snorts. “Yeah, because teal bows are the height of sophistication.” He elbows me lightly, grinning like he’s in on some private joke. “What about you, Dylan? Is it living up to the hype?”
I shrug. “It’s nice,” I say, though the word feels too small. The room is buzzing, everyone dressed up, talking in clusters, breaking into laughter, or testing the edge of the dance floor like they’re daring each other to go first. For a moment, I let it pull me in. It’s mesmerizing.
Beckett pulls me toward the dance floor, not giving me a chance to protest. “ This is happening,” he insists and I laugh as he twirls me under his arm like we’re at some ballroom gala, instead of the gym we’ve spent the last year in.
The music shifts to something fast, the bass pounding through the room, and Beckett keeps going. He spins me again, dipping me dramatically just to get a reaction.
“Beckett!” I exclaim, swatting at him, but I can’t stop laughing.
“Come on, you’re supposed to be having fun!” he taunts, pulling me upright with an easy grin. “Stop overthinking and just dance. I couldn’t convince you to go last year—at least let me enjoy this.”
I let him lead me in a few more spins, the hem of my dress flaring out with every turn.
Around us, Colt and his date are trying out moves that could’ve come straight from an ‘80s workout video, while Emma’s doubled over, laughing so hard she can barely breathe. Miles, surprisingly paired with Graham’s date, is attempting something that might be the Macarena, all while Graham hides by the punch table, sipping his drink like it’s the only thing keeping him centered.
Then, Brooks appears, like he’s been waiting for the exact moment. He reaches out, his fingers wrapping around mine, drawing me toward him eagerly. It feels like a rhythm we’ve always known.
Beckett backs off with a little salute, heading over to his date. “She’s all yours.”
Brooks rests his hand on my waist, the other holding mine loosely as the music slows. “You having fun?” he asks, leaning just close enough that I can hear him over the music.
I nod my head, the words catching in my throat for a second before finally coming out. “Yeah. I am actually.”
And I mean it. It’s not the kind of fun I thought I’d have. It’s better. This is me, here, surrounded by people I care about, feeling like I’m a part of something, instead of watching from the outside. The kind of night that doesn’t need overthinking or second-guessing, just this moment.
The mass of people grinding in sync to the music for hours is surprisingly exhilarating. The lights are low, and the DJ spins a remix of a song that sounds vaguely familiar, but the bass is too loud to distinguish it.
Brooks stands so close I can feel the heat of his body. His hands roam over waist, and instinctively, I lean into him, my hands tangling in his hair as he pulls me closer. His grip is firm, fingers pressing into the soft fabric of my dress, making everything else fade.
He shifts just enough to let his words slip through, his lips grazing the curve of my neck, breath stirring the air against my collarbone. “We could sneak out the back,” he murmurs, sending a thrill through me. “Go for a drive, just the two of us.”
“I’m gonna need a minute,” I say, trying to keep it light as I step back, fanning myself with my hand. “As much as I’d love to take you up on that, I think we should at least swing by Graham’s bonfire first.”
“I’m down for anything as long as I’m with you.” His voice is laced with something dark, yanking me through the crowd like we can’t get away fast enough.
We navigate through the dance floor, the bodies around us pressing close, everyone moving with the music. Graham suddenly appears beside us, his arm around his date—a cute brunette with a shy smile.
“Hey, man,” Brooks says, jerking his chin toward Graham, then turning to the girl. “Hey, Jules. Have you guys seen Beckett?”
Graham tilts his head toward the exit. “He just stepped outside with Colt. I think everyone’s about to head out.”
“Great, thanks.”
Before I can turn away, Jules steps in, her presence effortlessly drawing my attention. “Your dress is beautiful,” she says with an easy smile.
“Oh! Thank you.” I glance at her deep purple gown, the lace and sequins catching the light in a way that makes her glow. “Yours is stunning.”
A soft blush dusts her cheeks as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Graham wraps an arm around her, pulling her close as they turn to leave. “We’ll see y’all out there soon. Get ready to party!” he calls back.
I watch them disappear before turning back, only to find Brooks watching me, his expression intent, like he’s barely holding back.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just come on, let’s go find your brother and let him know we’re heading out too.”
It’s a short walk to the parking lot, and I spot Beckett almost immediately. Even with his back to us, that familiar mop of black hair makes him impossible to miss. Colt stands beside him, hands stuffed into his pockets, his whole posture tight, like he’s holding something back. They haven’t noticed us yet, but from the way Beckett’s talking, I can tell it’s serious. Colt’s voice is a low growl as we near. “I’m telling you man, she deserves to know,” he reprimands. “You can’t keep it from her. You’re running out of time.”
Wait. Who? Me? What is it that I deserve to know? My anxiety flares as I glance at Brooks, who has stopped in his tracks, watching them with the same unease I suddenly feel.
Beckett turns, glancing over his shoulder, and when he sees me, his face falls. He’s not fast enough to hide the guilt, and it hits me all at once—they were talking about me. His shoulders sag like he already knows he’s lost whatever fight he was putting up.
“Dilly.”
“What is it that I deserve to know?” I ask, crossing my arms and narrowing the distance between us. The air feels heavier around me, and I prepare for news I’m afraid to hear.
Beckett steps closer, hands raised slightly, like he’s trying to calm me down before I even react. “You have to understand, I just didn’t want to hurt you.”
“Hurt me?” My voice shakes despite myself. “What secret are you keeping that would hurt me, Beckett?”
He hesitates, and the pause stretches unbearably long. “Earlier this year, I was approached about a scholarship opportunity to play for Western,” he finally admits, the words rushing out. “I didn’t tell you because, honestly, I didn’t think I’d get it. I know how badly you’ve wanted us to leave together—to get away from Mom and go back to Colorado—and I didn’t want to mess that up over something that felt like a fucking long shot. Then, when I found out I got it, I didn’t know how to bring it up. Especially after you started saving all your money from Ruby’s for us. And—” he pauses, looking almost desperate “—when you and Brooks got closer, I thought maybe…maybe you were starting to find your own way out. Your own future. Without me. And that meant I could have my own too. So…I accepted the scholarship.”
I stare at him, the admission hitting me like blows I never saw coming—each one digging deeper, leaving me bruised. “And you thought hiding it from me was the answer?”
“It was never supposed to be like this,” he reassures quickly. “I promise, Dill. It wasn’t.”
“You thought I’d be so wrapped up in what I wanted that I couldn’t—wouldn’t—be happy for you?” My voice cracks, but I don’t care. “That I wouldn’t support you in having your own future? Do you think that little of me?”
“That’s not what I meant,” he groans, his frustration bubbling over. “You know that’s not it!”
“Then what?” I demand. “Why lie to me?”
“Because I didn’t want to fucking disappoint you!” he roars, fists gripping his hair, yanking at it like he’s trying to tear his own frustration out. “You’ve always been the one with the plan, the one who’s focused on getting us out. I didn’t want to mess that up. Before Rockport, all we ever talked about was leaving. That was the dream, Dylan. That was it for us. But now…” His words stumble, momentarily lost, before he regains them in a softer tone. “I was just scared. I know that doesn’t excuse anything, but it’s the truth. I wasn’t just afraid of not getting the scholarship—I was terrified of telling you if I did. Because it would mean leaving you behind.”
My vision blurs, and I blink violently, fighting to keep the shards of my broken heart from spilling out. I’m staring at the person I thought I knew like the back of my hand—the other half of my soul. Now, suddenly, he’s a stranger, pieces of him exposed that I never even knew were there.
Beckett reaches for me, but I jolt back. “I would’ve fucking cheered for you, Becks—like I always have!” I snarl, my words coming out in a rough hiss. “We’re twins! We’re supposed to have each other’s backs. I would’ve screamed for you to take that scholarship, to chase your goddamn dreams. You should know that! I’d have figured it out—hell, I might’ve even stayed here. But if you honestly think I’m the kind of person who’d hold you back, who’d be disappointed in you and your accomplishments, then you don’t know a single fucking thing about me.”
He flinches, his body caving under the impact of my words like he’s fucking crushed. Shame blooms across his face, but I don’t regret it for a second. He needs to hear it. His mouth opens, but nothing spills out at first—like he’s too ashamed to even breathe, let alone speak.
“Dill, I don’t thi—”
I cut him off, the wound bursting through my chest like a damn breaking loose. “No, you do .” I choke on the truth, my voice breaking. “Maybe you won’t own it, but you lied to me Beckett—because you thought you had to. And that? That’s what cuts the deepest.”
I don’t give him the chance to speak. Can’t. My chest is fucking splintering, and if I stand here a second longer, I’ll crack wide open for everyone to see. I spin around, storming off, fists balled so tightly my knuckles pop. Brooks follows behind me, but I can feel his concern—he’s waiting for me to break.
I don’t stop until we make it to his truck. I glance over to him and let out a frustrated sigh. “Can we just get the hell out of here? I’m not up for a bonfire anymore.”
“Yeah. Of course.”
I’m grateful he doesn’t try to change my mind. I slip into my side of the cab and sink against the door, exhaustion settling deep in my bones. Words sit heavy on my tongue, but I’m not ready to speak—not yet.
How could Beckett lie to me like that? And for what? Did he really think I’d flip just because he wanted something for himself? A damn scholarship, of all things? A rage I can’t control rises up in me. Does he really think I’m that selfish?
I should go back, fix this mess, force the words out before they twist into something worse, like resentment. But I can’t. Not tonight. Not when my bones feel like they’re cracking with anger, not when the hurt is so raw I can barely breathe. He’ll have to wait. Tomorrow, maybe, when the fire inside me isn’t ready to burn everything down. Right now, I just need a minute to be, to figure out how the hell the one person I’ve always trusted just…didn’t trust me at all.