Under the Orange Moon (35 page)

“Oh,” she said with a sense of sadness. “Just give me a minute with this one, okay?”

Brandon shrugged. “Sure. Mom bought a painting that reminded her of Dad, anyway. It was the one with the orange moon. I’ll get that first. Oh, and don’t try and argue with her. She said it’s her motherly duty, or something.”

Dylan gave a mechanical “Okay” and didn’t take her eyes from her painting. She had thought long and hard about letting this one go, but knew it was one of the best pieces she had ever done. She wasn’t surprised it had been claimed.

She lightly traced her fingers over the man that reminded her of Ben, and felt her eyes tear up with a memory that seemed so long ago now. The stars that hung over the entangled couple were brighter than she remembered, and she secretly felt a certain serenity knowing that they would never dim.

“That one was our best sale tonight,”
Norman said as he approached. “There was somewhat of a battle over it, so it went well beyond the asking price.”

“That’s great,” Dylan replied monotonously.

Brandon returned with a cautious grin. “May I take it now? Have you had your moment?”

Dylan tried to shake off the possessiveness she was feeling. She smiled at her brother, and even added a “Yes, jerk” to sound more content with her loss.

Ben watched Dylan from the sidewalk on Macdougal Street, just in front of the building she stood in. The gallery was surrounded with glass, making it easy for him to spy without being seen.

He laughed as she raced around, and he wanted more than anything to kiss her flushed cheeks. She was nervous for reasons that could only be chalked up to her own insecurities. From the outside, her night looked like a success.

“Are you ever going to go inside?” Brandon asked from out of nowhere. “This stalking thing is getting a little creepy, man.”

“Is that mine?” Ben asked, nodding at the painting in
Brandon’s hands.

Brandon
looked down and gave the piece a small tap. “I think so. Norman said the buyer would be waiting right where you are.”

Ben pulled the painting from
Brandon’s hands and felt a twinge of happiness rush through him. He couldn’t have her in real life, but he could certainly savor her art.

“Maybe someday you’ll stop sneaking around and actually come say hello,”
Brandon said with sincerity. “There are a few people inside that would like to see you, you know?”

Ben nodded. “Are you one of them?”

Brandon chuckled. “Nah, you’re not my type.”

Ben let a quiet laugh escape from his lips. That was enough to let him know that he had been forgiven. “Just tell her I said congratulations, okay?” 

“Tell me yourself,” Dylan said quietly from the front doors of the building.

Stunned, Ben’s eyes widened. “Hi,” he said too quickly. “I didn’t mean for you to see me. I just
—”

Dylan looked down at the painting in his hand. “May I?” she asked, reaching for the wrapped piece. She unfolded part of it and peeked inside to find the man and woman intertwined in an almost kiss. “You bought this,” she said with emotions she couldn’t describe.

“It reminded me of—” he shrugged, “—you know. I promised you I’d buy something.” He tried to sound casual but failed miserably.

“Thank you,” she said with a gentle smile.

“Anyway, I have to get going,” he began. “You look beautiful.”

Dylan nodded her head slowly, contemplating something in that little head of hers. She stared at him with a look of confusion and something else that Ben could not quite decipher.

In an awkward, unexpected hug that stunned even him, he pulled her to him and held her there. His hand lay flat across the small of her back as he drew her in closer, pressing against her. He held her too tight for too long, but still he could not find it in him to let her go so soon. He smelled her hair against his better judgment, knowing what her scent would do to him. It was arousing and humiliating, but the world was right again as the reality of her consumed him for only that brief moment.

He would have held her forever, but the sound of a group exiting the building forced him to release her rather quickly. Only then did he realize the tears in her eyes. He couldn’t see her cry again; that wasn’t why he came.

“Ben?” Linda asked with both shock and happiness erupting from her small voice.

“Hey,” Charlie said, grabbing Ben’s hand and holding it with a manly firmness. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hello, Ben,” Meredith said with a genuine, peace offering smile.

“McKenna,” Michael greeted, and looked from Ben to a clearly shaken Dylan.

Ben shook Oilie’s hand and seriously considered punching his face or congratulating him on being the better man. He would take the high road tonight with a trouble-free nod of the head.

Brandon, Hugh, and Jonah only smiled with a look of ease in their eyes, but Ben understood what that meant. He preferred for them not to speak anyway.

“So,” he began, looking away, “I just wanted to come and buy a painting, like I promised. Congratulations again.” His jaw tightened as his two eyebrows painfully furrowed together. “Bye, Dylan.”

Dylan said nothing as he forced himself to walk away, carrying his new painting in one hand, his other hand shoved inside his pocket.

He hated himself for the pain he unleashed on her, whether he meant to do it or not. It was unbearable to watch her eyes tear up, knowing he was the cause.

He could hardly feel sorry for himself as the rain began to beat down on his head; it only added a nice dramatic effect to his misery. He shielded his painting with its dustcover and turned it inward against his body.

He shook his head as he made his way to wherever the sidewalk he trudged on would lead him. He wanted so badly to erase his mistakes and all the ways he hurt Dylan. He was nothing without her, but she was so much better off without him. That was the reality of it all.

“Ben!” he heard as he stood at a crosswalk. “Ben!”

He swung around and stared at the figure running to him. Jonah grew closer and closer as he wailed his arms in the air and screamed his name. “Ben, stop!”

The rain splashed up against him and his hair was sticking to his forehead, but all he could think about was protecting the piece of Dylan he carried under his arm. “Go back, Jonah!” he demanded. “Go be with your family!”

Jonah yanked the painting from Ben’s arm. “You’re my family, too, asshole.”

Ben pulled the painting back in a standoff with his friend. “What are you doing?”

“I’ll take care of this for you! Stop it, Ben!” Jonah yelled.

“Stop what?” Ben’s confusion grew heavier by the minute. “What are you doing, Jonah?”

Jonah ripped the painting back until he conquered Ben’s death hold. “Washington Square Hotel, room Twenty-seven,” he said with a sopping wet face. “Stop being a dumbass, Ben.”

Ben stared, processing Jonah’s words.

“She just may be the only person in the world you’re ever going to love,” Jonah yelled over the pouring rain. “You’re never going to have another chance at it. Go, Ben!”

Ben chewed the inside of his cheek. Jonah had not one deep thought inside his shallow head, or at least that’s what Ben always believed. Now, here he was, telling Ben to go get Dylan.

“But she’s with Oilie now. They live together.”

Jonah snorted and grinned at his confused friend. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You couldn’t be more off base. Dylan rents her loft from him, but she lives in it all by herself, alone and
single
.”

Ben’s chest filled with relief. “She’s not with him?” he asked with joy, this time he just needed to make sure he heard him correctly.

“She never even considered it,” Jonah answered with a smirk. “She won’t admit this, but she misses you. Stop being so stupid and go fix this so I don’t have to chase you down like a dramatic loser again.”

He didn’t wait for Ben to respond. He turned away from him and walked back the way he came, shielding Ben’s beloved painting as promised. He disappeared into the cloudy downpour of the street, and Ben watched him the whole way.

The “walk” sign blinked, warning Ben to cross or forever hold his peace. He waited, looking back down Macdougal Street, then ahead of him again. Behind him was Dylan, pure happiness. Ahead of him was an agony-filled, lonely life. There was no choice.

He sprinted through the rain, running into people with his shoulders, tearing through the crowds of
Lower Manhattan. He bolted over a crosswalk without even looking for a sign that allowed him to go. He ran for his life as he stomped through puddles, soaking his body even more.

He found her hotel on Waverly and burst into the dimly lit double doors of the building, passing every form of security that tried to stop him as he hopped onto a closing elevator. If he stopped and allowed front desk to call her room, it was quite possible she would turn him away with ease. He had to surprise her, catch her off guard and knock on her door himself.

An old woman with blue hair, and a small dog tucked under her arms stared at him with a look of curiosity. “Are you all right?” she asked in a delicate voice.

Ben tried to catch his breath as he laughed. He nodded his head and smiled at the petite old lady.

“Is it a girl?” she asked, smiling. “It’s always a girl.”

“Isn’t it?” Ben asked through hard breaths.

“How can I help?” she asked with excitement.

“You can keep security off me,” Ben suggested with a grin. “That would help.”

“I will try,” she beamed.

The doors slid open and Ben took off down the hallway. He stopped at Dylan’s room and leaned against the door with his hand. He caught his breath and realized he had no clue what it was that he wanted to say or even how to get it out. 

He paced back and forth as he ran his hands over his wet hair and straightened out his drenched clothes. He was a coward.

The door swung open and Dylan’s face peered out. “What are you doing?” she asked sternly.

“Hey,” he said, nearly leaping backwards.

She looked him up and down, eyeing his wet clothes and hair. “Hey,” she said back, keeping the door closed just to a space big enough for her head.

“I wanted to—” He couldn’t say it.

“Yes?” Dylan asked pointedly. She
would
make this difficult for him. “You wanted to what, Ben?”

“I don’t have any excuses for anything I’ve done, but if I could just have another chance,” he paused to look down and hide the tears in his eyes, “I would make it up to you, or try at least.” He surprised even himself. He exhaled as he looked at her and waited.

“Ben,” Dylan began. “I don’t think now is—”

Ben put his hand up and placed it against the door. He leaned closer to her face. “Don’t say that now isn’t a good time. Please. You know me better than anyone, Dylan, and I know you, just the same.”

“I don’t know you at all, Ben. And you never knew me.”

“No. You’re wrong. You’re the girl who loves pink but won’t admit it because you’re afraid it will make you sound too girly. You’re afraid of moths because you think they’ll eat your hair, and you hate chalk.” He pounded his hand on her door and his eyes grew painful, but he couldn’t stop. “You secretly love Harry Potter movies, and when you were ten you fell off your bike and I carried you home. When your dad died, you only wanted me and you cried in my lap. I stopped skateboarding because you were better and I was embarrassed. God, you even throw a football better than me.” He drew in a long breath, adding, “And, finally, I’m an asshole, but you loved me anyway.”

When she didn’t say anything, Ben desperately blurted, “I’m going to quit school and my internship. I’m moving back to Phoenix to be close to you. You mean more to me than anything else.”

Clearly stunned, Dylan turned her face from his. She closed her eyes, sending a thick tear rolling over her cheek that ripped a piece of Ben’s heart as it fell.

“Okay,” Ben said with a nod. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t go the rest of my life without saying that to you.”

“You can come in,” she said before he could turn away. “It’s raining pretty hard outside and you’re a mess.” She held the door wider and waited for him to walk through.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and slid past her.

Dylan closed the door and inhaled discreetly. Her heart was pounding with a ferocious thud inside her chest. He was really there and this was really happening.

Ben looked around the suite and laughed nervously. “This is different. I like it.”

“I couldn’t believe he put me in a place like this,” she agreed. “I wasn’t expecting it. Then again, a lot has been happening lately that I never expected.”

“You deserve it,” he said quietly. “I always knew someone would eventually see how talented you are.”

He watched her with intent in his stare. He was a dripping mess, but hardly seemed to notice the puddle that was forming beneath him. He looked glorious, of course.

“So, the bathroom is over there. You can hang up those wet clothes and put on the robe that’s hanging on the back of the door,” Dylan offered as casually as possible.