12:41 AM

Only ten minutes in, passing through East Hollywood and Santa Monica Boulevard, the car entered a street filled with stationary cars, a few people passing through the mellow glow of the streetlights. Like many congested cities, LA barely slept.

"I'm starving," Randall declared, eyes still on the road.

"Ah, I missed this about you," Veronica laughed.

His lanky build could fool anyone, especially if they hadn't a clue about the amount of fast food he'd eaten in his lifetime.

"I knew you would," Randall winked. "So, who's up for a taco? And not just any taco, mind you. It's the most mouth-watering, authentic one in town," he said with confidence, almost licking his lips.

"I'm in," Dylan raised his hand, not a drop of hesitation.

Veronica beamed at Dylan's spontaneity and Randall's sharp memory. She'd told her friend a few months ago that she'd love to scratch California tacos off her bucket list.

She and Randall met in art university in Maryland and always knew he was going to make it on his own. Even if his father was Aedan Hart, a renowned contemporary American-Irish painter, he made a name for himself after moving to Los Angeles. He easily became one of her best friends in the Painting department, especially in the last years of college when she was struggling to focus. With a bright smile and sandy-colored hair, Randall Hart had always been that walking Nat Geo nerd who cheered her up when she had to deal with the heartaches Ethan had caused her in the end.

They talked about the craziness of Los Angeles and soon arrived in a place Veronica was very familiar with.

Venice Beach.

"Um, I don't think this'll be a good idea," she turned to Randall, then to Dylan, who didn't seem bothered as his eyes strayed upon the busy street through the tinted glass window.

"Hey, you told me you wanted the best taco. They're usually in the city. But tonight, they're here 'coz some rich kid had mommy and daddy hire the entire truck for her highschool graduation party."

"So you want us to crash it?" she asked, making sure she was hearing him right.

"In one of these, of course," Randall grinned, pulling out a bunch of random masks in the compartment between the seats.

With zero reluctance, Dylan picked the werewolf mask and this time, with conviction, said "I'm in!"

They strolled towards the far end of the strip; the sky painted black, and the grayish blue ocean roaring before them. Surrounded by fairy lights and decorated barriers, the taco truck stood on the furthest edge of the beach. A round of alternative rock music blasted from the DJ's table.

There seemed to be no dress code, but everyone was behind outrageous masks of many heights and sizes. Some were dressed in gowns with sequin masks, others clad in beastly suits and outlandish wear. One was even sporting a Renaissance wig, as if stepping out of a Baz Luhrman film set. After all, it was Venice Beach. They all seemed high, a masquerade party on steroids.

Veronica tightened the ribbon of the silver gray beaded mask on her face while Dylan and Randall strode casually towards the food truck in their respective masks. Dylan's werewolf mask was the perfect fit. Randall wore a feathered headdress and a black vintage Zorro mask.

The staff inside the taco truck was too busy to notice them, and the kids lined up didn't even look at them. Dylan looked casual, confident that no one would recognize him under the mask. If only she could see his eyes through the rubber mask, she'd bet they had an innocent spark. When his phone rang incessantly, he would just check to see who it was before shutting it off.

Along with kite-high teenagers, the threesome ate their tacos at the beach, facing the dark waters of the Pacific, munching on the delectable piece of joy while quietly enjoying the vibe. In the background, a timeless electronic music played.

"So, what's the verdict?" Randall, in full disguise, asked in between bites of his taco.

"Mmm, tastes amazing," she mumbled, relishing her snack as she caught a pulled pork dangling from the tortilla, struggling to eat one in front of two LA residents.

"Man, this is bomb," Dylan agreed.

"I'm getting one more," Randall announced as he stood up, fully benefiting from the freebie.

Veronica chuckled as she watched Randall tread on the sands while balancing the headdress. When she looked back at Dylan, she noticed a strand of hair curled on his forehead. He'd pulled his mask even further up to his head as they both finished their food. It was a comfortable silence embracing them, thanks to the rolling ocean waves serenading them.

Dylan turned to her, but timidly looked away with a blushing smile. Veronica admired his humility despite his confidence, his dazzling teeth illuminating in the twilight.

"This is a first," he murmured, finally looking at her, this time with courage.

"Crashing a party?"

He nodded.

"And you've never been to a high school soiree before?" she asked.

"Nope," he confirmed as they observed a few kids tackling one of their friends from a distance, clearly high and enjoying that youthful freedom she once had as well.

Veronica pursed her lips in contemplation. Here she was next to a boy who seemed to have everything in the palm of his hands, but in fact, had nothing.

"Well, tonight's been a night of firsts for both of us," she smiled, pointing at the last bite of her taco before wiping the side of her mouth with the tip of her ring finger.

If tonight was indeed that sort of night, then Dylan hoped this moment froze. While the waves continued its divertimento, his heart made a leap of its own. He glanced at her lips, an electrifying spark urging him to lean closer to her. He didn't know what it was, but this sure was another first. A crazy sensation was battling inside of him. For the very first time in his life, he was struck.

Suddenly, a boy with a high-pitched voice appeared out of nowhere, his eyes as round as marbles, "Oh, my god! Are you Dylan West?"

He snapped out of his fleeting thoughts, realizing just now that he'd forgotten to put the werewolf mask back on after eating.

Then another boy approached them, "Bruh, you're Dylan West!"

"No," he blurted out, looking around, realizing Clive or his other bodyguard, Yeung, were not with him.

Just as Veronica instinctively pulled his werewolf mask back down to his chin, a sizable group of teenagers crowded around them, phones ready to take multiple evidence shots of the actor.

"Oh, my god! You are Dylan West!" screamed another girl as two others shrieked with excitement.

Veronica sprung up, grabbed his hand and said, "Run!"

In yet another exhilarating escape, Dylan felt a surge of electricity as their skin touched, transferring a million sparks into his veins, leading to his beating heart. They raced away from the sandy shores of excitable teens towards the busy pavements of the famous beach to where Randall's car was parked.

A flurry of lights blurred his vision, a gaggle of people muted, bikes and roller skaters sweeping past them. Behind his mask, Dylan felt a dizzying sensation of euphoria, almost nauseating, to a point he'd thought he was going to pass out in a dreamlike consciousness. He wasn't on earth, but in a lifelike movie scene he swore he'd only seen but would have killed to be cast in.

Hollywood Hills

How the actual route of escape was executed to the tee, Dylan would've never known. Before he knew it, he was in the backseat of Randall's car once again, still basking in an invigorating energy, especially when Veronica turned and smiled at him while seated in the front passenger seat. Randall drove while re-accounting what had just happened.

After driving away from the chaos, he navigated Randall back to the road, then to the gated community in the hills and into his ultra secured property. They drove through the automatic steel gates and parked in front of a modern, three-storey-high mansion.

"Let's go," Veronica said when she saw Randall's hands still gripping on the steering wheel.

"Nah, I gotta head home to finish work," he reasoned.

"Come on, man. Stay for a drink," Dylan insisted while Veronica begged with her eyes.

When he finally agreed, they entered the modern house, passing through hallways decked with fine art pieces and rooms filled with designer furniture. Veronica spotted an Aeden Hart piece and told him it was Randall's father who created it. The three talked a bit about the art world, which impressed Veronica. It turned out that his mom was an old friend of the famous artist and she had passed down the piece of art to him as a housewarming gift when he moved in last year.

They went out to the pool area, past the gazebo and to the edge of his property, revealing a crazy view of nighttime Los Angeles.

"Now this is a view," Randall announced, in awe of the ridiculous backyard find while the host excused himself to get the drinks they preferred.

The sky was a void of darkness, compensated by the milliard of lights on the grounds of Los Angeles. The horizon streamed with lighted structures, roads of flowing light currents like glowing ant soldiers. It was a magnificent scenery.

"I'm so sorry," was all that Randall could say.

Veronica knew exactly what he meant as she felt the sincerity.

"Not your fault," she stared into space,

"You were at the service," she said, a whiff of guilt lingering around her.

"Yeah," Randall said, his eyes absorbing the night's view.

"At least one of us made it," she said, understanding exactly what he meant.

Even Randall went to Ethan's funeral mass, which meant she was a selfish coward.

"How have you been doing?" Randall gazed at her, the same concerned look he gave her once before from the same man who broke her heart.

"It was a rough winter, but I've crossed it. My doctor and I are making sure I won't slip back," she shrugged, acting as if she was fine.

"That's good to know," Randall offered her one of his warm smiles, sensing her denial.

"Hey, I haven't been the best at catching up. I'm sorry if we hadn't kept in touch for years," she apologized.

"Nah, I'm terrible. I should've made the move and called you.

"Six years flew by so fast," she exhaled.

When Randall called her three months ago to greet her on her birthday, he wasn't aware that he'd made her day. He mentioned nothing about the tragedy, but invited her to come visit him in Los Angeles instead.

"I'm just a call away, Veronica. You know I'm always here for you."

"You," she paused, feeling a lump in her throat. "You've always stuck by me. And I'll never forget that."

She gave him an enormous hug, realizing how she missed her old friend so, so much.

"Hey, you've grown muscles! Have you been working out?" she teased him.

When she first met Randall, he was a skinny, over-six feet tall lad walking in the halls in art college.

"I knew you'd tease me about it," he laughed.

"You're seeing someone, aren't you?" she nudged him with her sharp elbow.

He laughed, almost confirming it.

"Damn it, Randall. You look so happy!" she exclaimed, content to see him smile like this for the first time.

"I am," he confessed.

"Is she nice and pretty?"

"She's beautiful," he nodded.

"Hey, you better introduce her to me one of these days," she warned him with a smile.

"She lives on the East Coast, but yeah, one day you'll meet her."

"Can't wait," she beamed at him.

"So, what's this thing going on with this boy? He's a celebrity, right?" he asked with a curious smile.

If there's one thing she and Randall had in common, it was their lack of knowledge in the celebrity world.

"Well, he's an actor and a musician. But yeah, we just met tonight. You know, just having fun," she stammered.

"As long as you're well and smiling like this," he said.

If not for the stone heart she'd developed from the trauma she'd gone through, Randall's reassurance would have made her cry in an instant in his arms. Instead, she fought the tears and gave her friend another embrace and a whisper of gratitude.

Dylan came back with the drinks and all three sat for a while in front of a fire pit, still fantasizing about how exceptional the tacos were.

Later, Randall made a sleek getaway excuse, saying he had to catch a deadline. Veronica could no longer refuse, so she promised to catch up with him soon. Hopefully, Dylan didn't hear her because this would mean she would be back in town.

* * *