Author’s Note: I don’t own Beverly Hill, 90210.
The ride to the Bel’age was a quick one, filled with discussions of the upcoming exams and the throwing back and forth random facts about history and chemistry. Brandon did his best to avoid bringing up the earlier topic trying to make her feel as comfortable with him as possible. He approached the drive up area of the hotel and Stephanie waved off the valet. She turned to Brandon, “Thank you.” He looked deeply into her dark blue eyes, “For not judging me.” He placed his hand on her cheek, “I would never judge you.” They sat and stared taking in the soft curves of the others face. She soon became as lost in his hazel eyes as he was in hers. He leaned in pressing his lips tightly against hers. Both were soon taken over by the passion of the longing kiss.
Stephanie pulled away and looked back at a confused Brandon, “Brandon, I really want this, I do.” He felt some shame take him over as he realized how inappropriate the kiss was. She continued on, “It’s just that I have a lot of healing to do.” He nodded, “I really like you, but, for right now, I just need a friend. Understand?” He smiled at her, “Of course, I understand.” She passed a similar smile to him, nodded and gripped the handle of the passenger side door. She turned back to him, “Thank you.” She stepped out, shut the door and turned facing back to the car. They exchanged waves as he put his foot on the gas and drove away.
He kept his promise of friendship to Stephanie. From that point on if Brandon was in class, working on the paper or at work, he was with her. They hung out in the halls and during lunch. He spent almost every night at her hotel studying or just hanging out. The more time he spent with her the stronger his feelings for her got. He didn’t think anything could ruin the bond they were beginning to create. These thoughts filled his mind as the sounds of popping filled his ears.
He turned his attention to the microwave in front of him watching as the bag began to spasm under the heat. “Stephanie, do you want butter on your popcorn?” he shouted over the microwave. “No, I have to watch my girlish figure,” she replied. He chuckled to himself as he waited for the popping to slow down. The smell of the popped kernels soon filled the entire room as he pulled open the door and removed the bag. He reached up to the cabinet above him and removed a big glass bowl then pulled open the bag, making sure to keep the steam from his face and dumped the entire contents of the bag into the clear container.
Brandon realized he had forgotten to ask her one very important question. “Do you want salt on the popcorn?” he shouted again to her. This time he received no answer. “Stephanie?” he shouted one more time. He figured maybe she was in the bathroom and hadn’t heard him so he went out to check on her. As he turned the corner into the living room he found the young girl glued to the T.V. screen in front of her. “You okay?” he asked, but she never turned her attention away. Brandon finally turned to catch what it was that she was so intent on looking at and there he caught the picture of an older man dressed in a gray and white pin striped suit. At the bottom of the screen he read, “Peter Sloan, nominee for the California Supreme Court.”
He could barely turn his attention away from the television. He turned to Stephanie who looked like she had just been kicked in the stomach. He made his way over to the couch and took a seat beside her. She didn’t move; she didn’t say word. Even after the story had moved on, her eyes never left the box in front of her. He just watched her waiting for any sign of life, anything kind of reaction. He tried to prepare himself for tears or anger, but nothing seemed to be coming. “Are you okay?” he inquired, his eyes probing her for a response. “I’m fine,” she blinked away the stare and looked at him. “But, I’m just not in the mood for a movie right now. I just want to go to bed.”
He shook his head, “I don’t think you should be alone tonight. Please, let me stay.” She continued to stare at him as if she hadn’t registered anything he had said. After a few long seconds she finally responded, “No, I really just want to be alone.” Brandon reached up to rest a reassuring hand on her arm, but she quickly pulled away. He pulled his hand back and nodded. “Okay, but if you need me, you call me. I don’t care what time it is.” Her attention moved from him to the floor in front of her, returning back to her earlier daze. He wasn’t convinced he should leave, but he figured it would be best for both of them if he did as she asked.
He made his way to the door and took one last glance back. He tried to figure out if the sight he saw in front of him was the scared little girl that she was so many years ago or the angry woman that she tried so hard to hide. Either way, he was scared for her and knew that first thing tomorrow he was going to be waiting, by her side, no matter what face she tried to put on.
The phone rang beside the futon Dylan and Brenda were now sharing. She had come over four hours before to watch the 10pm showing of Attack Of The Killer Tomatoes. They must have fallen asleep shortly after and she was now attempting to tune out the ring coming from just above her head. Dylan gently pushed her up off of his chest as he reached for the phone. She began rubbing her eyes as he answered.
“Hello” he stated through the onset of a yawn. What he heard instantly jolted him out of his sleep induced haze. “What’s wrong?” he questioned. Brenda immediately turned her attention to her now wide awake boyfriend. “I saw it earlier” he stated. There was another silence as Brenda became increasingly tense. “I’ll be right there.” He clicked the off switch on the phone and turned his attention to the floor ahead of him. “Who was that?” Brenda asked, wondering why he hadn’t told her to begin with.
“Have you seen my shoes?” he questioned as he stood up. “Dylan who was that?” she repeated. He kept his attention on the floor and quickly discovered his shoes had been pushed under their make shift bed. He sat down on the nearest table and slipped his shoes on, “I need to drop you off at home.” With Dylan continuously ignoring her question, she knew who it had to be on the other end of that phone call. “It was Stephanie, wasn’t it?” He still didn’t respond. She watched him as crossed the room to the front door. “Dylan, it’s after midnight. What could be so important?”
Dylan tried his best to control his anger toward her, “Just come on.” She didn’t move and continued to stare at him. “Dylan?” He couldn’t control his frustration any longer, “Stop pushing this. I need to going so get your shoes and let’s go.” She grabbed her shoes from in front of her, stood up and huffed her way out the front door. Dylan just shook his head as he reached for the light switch forcing the room to go dark as he closed the door behind him.
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