Rehab, Actors & Love

A Date Under Lockdown

Dylan's POV

I left Della's room, kind of surprised she agreed to go on a date with me. Now I just have to plan a date that says, "I'm sorry for ruining your life" and "you can trust me".

"Dylan O'Brien."

I turned around to see Evan walking towards me. Is his face naturally a scowl or is it just when he's looking at me?

"What are you doing here?"

"I was umm. . . I was visiting Della."

"She opened the door?" He scoffed.

"Alright," I said before I could stop myself. "What's your problem with me? Ever since I came to this center, you've had it out for me."

"No," he interrupted me. "I've "had it out for you" since you started messing with Della."

"Started messing with Della?" I repeated.

"Yes," he nodded. "You continually harassed her."

"I didn't harass her," I stuttered. "I just wanted to get to know her."

"Because she was the nearest girl insight?"

"No," I corrected. "Because I saw the tears in her eyes when she was playing the piano my first day and I was curious. I wasn't going to hurt her, Evan. I had no idea that I was the one who destroyed her life. But can I ask you something? Why are you so protective of her?"

Evan glanced towards Della's room before sighing. "Because she reminds me of my sister," he said, slowly looking back at me. "I lost my sister a few years back when my family and I got into a car accident. And when I met Della, she instantly reminded me of her. So much that she became like my little sister."

He hesitated before continuing. "Look," he sighed. "I'm sorry I've been rough on you. It's just. . . I didn't want to see Della hurt. I was just trying to protect her. But she was still hurt, Dylan."

He sent me a look that made my guilt swallow me up again. "I want to make it up to her," I said softly. "I know I can't, but. . . I want to fix this. I want to make things better. So, I asked if she'd have dinner with me."

"And she said yes?" He asked, not hiding his surprise.

"Yeah," I smiled. "Weirdly enough, she did."

"Well," he cleared his throat. "Hate to break it to you, but she is still under close watch."

"What if," I hesitated. "What if I brought dinner to her? We could have a date in her room. We wouldn't leave the center. Hell, we wouldn't even leave her room."

I stopped talking when I saw the scowl on Evan's face. "Not like that," I said quickly. "I'm not gonna. . . We aren't. . . Just dinner."

Evan sighed, glancing at Della's door. He looked back at me, clearly debating.

"What do you need from me?"

* * * * *

I nervously wiped my hands on my jeans, looking around the room. While Della's at her PT session with Evan, I decorated her room. I strung up white Christmas lights, turning the main room light off. I laid down a picnic blanket, setting up two places. It wasn't much, but hopefully, it was enough.

I jumped when I heard footsteps down the hallway. I held my breath as the door opened. The look on Della's face when she opened the door and saw her room was priceless. I couldn't help but smile as she slowly walked in and looked around.

"You did all this?" She asked softly.

"Told you I had it covered," I laughed, trying to hide my smirk. She looked over at me, biting her bottom lip.

"I can't believe you did this," she said, her eyes watering. "For me."

I took a couple of steps towards her until I was right in front of her. I reached down and grabbed her hands. "Of course," I whispered. "I told you I wanted to make it up to you. This is how."

"But, why? Why did you go through all of this trouble?"

"Because you're worth it," I said without any hesitation. "And you deserve it. All of it."

She looked back around the room, her cheeks turning red. "I'm wearing leggings," she stuttered as she messed with the hem of her shirt.

"I think you look beautiful," I said before I could stop myself.

Della looked up at me, her cheeks brighter than before. "Come on," I said leading her over to the picnic blanket.

As I got our dinner out of the basket, Della watched my movements closely. "Okay," she said, laughing slightly. "This isn't from the diner and this definitely isn't from the cafeteria. How did you get this here?"

"There's an Italian restaurant I really like down the street from my apartment. And Evan helped me sneak it all in."

"Evan helped you," she repeated, not hiding her surprise.

"I know," I laughed. "Surprised me too."

"Weird," she mumbled. "I always thought. . ."

"That he hated my guts?" I finished for her. "Yeah, so did I. He still does, but he really cares about you."

She looked down, picking at her leggings as her cheeks went back to burning red. I reached up and tucked a piece of hair that had fallen in front of her face behind her ear. Della glanced up at me, my hand lingering on her cheek.

I pulled away when I realized how long I had been holding her face. I cleared my throat as I turned back to the food.

"You hungry?" I cringed at how lame that sounded.

"Starving." I looked up to see Della sending me a soft smile.

As we ate dinner, we talked about random things. She asked me questions about some of my old movies. I asked her questions about some of her singing competitions. While we talked, my phone connected to a speaker played soft music.

I smiled when I got an idea as we finished. Della looked up and stopped when she saw the look on my face.

She watched as I stood up, wiping my hands on my jeans. I held my hands out for her to take, but she just stared at me.

"What?" She asked. I wiggled my fingers, not saying a word. Della sighed as she wiped her hands on her napkin and took my hand. I helped her stand up and spun her around, making her laugh.

We started dancing to the music, my hand on her back and hers on my shoulder. The songs played one after the other, the feeling in the room never changing. The way the Christmas lights reflected off her eyes made them sparkle. As we danced, I couldn't look away from her.

"Dylan," she whispered. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," I said, smiling.

"Why are you doing all of this, Dylan?"

We stopped dancing as I looked down at her, studying her. I didn't let her go and she didn't move away from me as we studied each other.

I hesitated. Not because I didn't know what to say, but because I wanted to word it just right.

"Dylan?"

"I want to be the man that you deserve."

She looked at me for a few beats before sighing, "What are you talking about, Dylan?"

"I want to be better. For you. I can't fix what happened, no matter how much I want to. But what I can do is try and. . . This isn't going to make any sense, but I want to be a better person because of you. After everything that happened, you came out of it a strong, amazing person. . . I didn't. Della, you make me want to be a better man. The kind of man that you deserve."

My breath got caught in my throat when Della stood on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. She pulled away, her cheeks matching mine.