Summer of Boys

Epilogue

"Dylan come on. We're going to be late." I walk down the stairs in my designer dress trying not to trip in the heels I'm wearing. We're on our way to Dylan's movie premier for the Maze Runner, and we are going to be late if he doesn't hurry up. Isn't the girl supposed to take longer than the guy?

"Ok, ok, I'm coming, calm your tits." Dylan says running down the stairs. As he passes me I punch him in the arm. "Ow!" He exclaims while putting on his jacket. "Ready?" Dylan asks putting his hand on my waist. I give him a smile and let him lead me to the limo. Ever since I decided to move to L.A and continue my relationship with Dylan I've gotten used to the limos and the exclusive parties. I remember my first trip in a limo Dylan rented for a date, I stuck my head through the sun roof like a little kid for the whole ride. 

The drive to the premier is short and soon we are waiting in the limo for our turn to step out and walk down the red carpet. I've never actually walked down a red carpet before and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. 

"Dylan what if I fall?" I can feel my pulse quicken as I come to the realization that this might not be as perfect as he's expecting. "Relax. Everything is going to be perfect. Besides if you fall i'll just pretend like I tripped you so I look like the idiot not you." I look over at Dylan and see that he has a small smile crossing his face. 

"Happy three year anniversary." I lean over and kiss him with as much passion I can muster in the back seat of a limo.

I pull away just as the door opens and Dylan steps out holding a hand out for me to do the same. I hear camera flashes go off and turn to see a crowd of paparazi taking photos. "It's just you and me." Dylan whispers in my ear as he places his arm around my waist. 

I take a deep breath before taking my first step down the red carpet. Having Dylan beside me has definitely made this time a lot easier in calming my nerves. Ryan Seacrest stops us from continuing our walk to ask Dylan a few questions. I pretty much tune it out as I look around at all the different actors and actresses that are here. I see Kaya talking with another interviewer and give her a small wave when she looks my way. I went on set a few times and actually became pretty good with her and Will. 

I feel Dylan tug on my waist slightly and notice that it's time to go inside. We walk inside and take our seats waiting for the movie to start. 

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The movie was amazing, and I'm not just saying that because Dylan was in it (although he pretty much made the whole movie). It's ten pm by the time we make it to the limo and we still have an after party to attend. I'm not as tired as I thought I'd be but I am pretty hungry. Dylan promises me there will be food at the party so I shut my mouth and wait until we arrive.

I forget whose house we are at, but it is huge! There's about three stories, not counting the basement or attic. It's probably twice the width of your average house.

Dylan once again holds his hand out to let me out but instead of putting his arm around my wait he intertwines his hand with mine. I smile down at out hands and lean up and peck him on the cheek. "I love you." 

He leans down and whispers in my ear, "I love you too." I can smell the minty freshness of his breath and feel the warm air as it hits my cheek. 

We walk inside and Dylan goes straight for the food while I go in search of a bathroom. I finally find it on the second floor and walk in to see Victoria Beckham washing her hands. It takes everything I have not to let my mouth drop open and calmly walk over to the sink, forgetting about my urge to pee momentarily. 

"That dress is gorgeous." I stop what I'm doing and look over to see Victoria staring at me. "Are you talking to me?" It comes out louder than I wanted it to and Victoria laughs as she nods her head. "Sorry. Thank you, I love yours as well." I turn in the mirror and see there's a loose thread hanging from my dress. I slump back looking at it, trying to figure out some way to remove it without harming the dress.