NOW.
"Two tickets for The Hitman 3," Bronson said to the ticket seller at the movie theater. He grinned at Mac. "It's supposed to be really good."
She gulped and forced a smile on her face. "Yeah, ok."
She hadn't gotten up the nerve to tell Bronson about Cassidy yet. It seemed pretty damn important, but whenever she tried, she froze up. Oh yeah, by the way, my ex-boyfriend was Cassidy Casablancas. You know, the guy that blew up that bus?
What a great conversation for their one-month anniversary.
But that was why she hadn't told him why she squirmed whenever she was being touched. Why the mere sight of a school bus made her throw up. Why she hated, hated, hated seeing guns. She flipped past hunting shows. She jogged past antique stores. She just couldn't look at one. Not now, not ever.
There was no one that she could talk to about it. The only people at Hearst who knew that she used to go out with the infamous Cassidy Casablancas were Veronica, Logan, Wallace, and Dick. Veronica may be her best friend, but it was still out of the question- he had raped her. He had tried to shoot Logan, so she couldn't bring it up to him either. She had never felt very close to Wallace, all they knew about each other were the things that Veronica had told them. He was Veronica's other BFF…but not one of hers. And as for Dick? Yeah right. But now, her roommate knew too.
She remembered a late night in her dorm room, tipsy off scotch and soda, whispering across the room to Parker.
"Parker?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you love someone even after they've done the unthinkable?"
Parker told her in hushed tones about her older brother, sent away to rehab for heroin 2 years ago. It's not the same, Mac couldn't help but think. You have to love your brother.
"Is this about…Cassidy?"
Every bone in her body froze. "Logan."
"He didn't mean to tell me, I swear. But he was there when he jumped and everything. He just needed to talk to someone about it…and it kind of slipped out that you two were together."
Mac rolled over on her bed and faced the wall.
"Mac…when someone does something like that, it's because their pain outweighs their resources for dealing with it. Cassidy only had one person to talk to. You."
Mac jumped out of her memory and back into the movie theater as the main character aimed a gun right at the camera. But his face melted away. It wasn't Adam Brody, it was Cassidy. Aiming the gun at Veronica and Logan.
She stood up and bolted out of the movie theater. She heard Bronson jogging after her.
"Mac? Mac?"
He trotted after her, even though she ducked into the girls bathroom. She flung open a toilet seat and heaved into it. He started rubbing her back.
"Sorry. Was it the blood? I didn't know you were so freaked out…we can leave. I had no idea…"
THEN.
Mac strolled into the Casablancas' backyard. "Hey. What's up?"
Cassidy spun around and grinned at her. "Hey Mac." He held up his handgun towards a small, circular target and pulled the trigger.
She jumped about ten feet. "What the fuck are you doing?"
He laughed. "What? Do guns make you jumpy?"
"You think?!"
He grinned and dragged her towards him. "Look, you probably just don't get them." He held it up to her and pointed out the firing pin, a teensy circle inside the circle of the bolt. "Inside the bolt, where you can't see it, there's a big spring. When you pull the trigger, it releases the spring, which hits this firing pin and pushes it out just a little bit…" He held his thumb and forefinger apart just a fraction of an inch, for illustration. "That firing pin hits the center of a brass bullet…and dents a little silver button called the primer. The dent sets off the charge, which is gunpowder inside the brass casing. You've seen a bullet – how it gets thinner and thinner at the end? That skinny part holds the actual bullet, and when the gunpowder goes off, it creates pressure behind the bullet and pushes it from behind."
Mac raised her eyebrows. "You really know your stuff. It just looks so…dangerous."
Cassidy shrugged. "A gun is nothing," he told her, "without the person behind it."
He went around from behind her and held it out in front of her. She giggled nervously and put her hands on it.
"There…now see that X through the lens?"
"Yeah."
"Line it up with the target, and pull the trigger."
Mac licked her lips and nodded. She glanced through the lens and saw the red X.
She carefully lined it up with target, pulled the trigger, and almost stumbled backwards.
"Bull's-eye!" Cassidy whooped. "You're not half bad, Mac McKenzie."
She laughed. "That was actually kind of fun!"
He grinned and shrugged. "Told you so."
"Hey… if you're so good at this stuff, why aren't you at the shooting range? Veronica told me Logan was going there today with Dick and your dad."
Cassidy's face turned hard. He tossed the handgun up in the air and caught it. "Wanna watch a movie or something?"
Mac said sure, and felt her face flush bright red, positive that she had said something terribly wrong.
NOW.Mac leaned up against a wall as Bronson poked his tongue into her mouth. Her back arched as he ran his hands up and down her sides.
Bronson inched his hands up her shirt and shot her a glance, hoping for a nod of approval.
Instead, she pushed his hands down.
"Can we just, like, talk?"
"Sure," he replied monotonously, flopping down on the floor.
Bronson was a nice guy. Too nice. He wasn't going to do a single thing that she didn't want him to do. But she needed someone to break those barriers. She could tell by the way he looked at her that he was dying to even see her in her bra, to play with her forbidden parts, to be inside her. And she wanted to let him. She did, so badly. But something inside her was stopping it. Something inside her made her want to lash out and strike him across the face whenever he tried to get near her.
THEN.
They were in the backseat of Mac's cute green Volkswagen, and Cassidy was gently pushing her against the locked door. His tongue was gently gliding across her teeth and her hands were scraping against his back, over his freckled shoulders. Being with Cassidy made her different- it was like one moment she could be Mac McKenzie, computer nerd and stubborn twit, but as soon as she saw Cassidy, she melted into her inner sex kitten.
Cassidy's hands inched up her shirt, and she arched her back as he slipped it off. She could have died, right then and there, of pure happiness.
In the fit of the moment, slowly stuck her hand down the waistband of his jeans. He jerked back so hard he slammed his head on the roof of her car.
"Ow! Shit!"
"Sorry! I didn't…I'm…"
"It's fine. But, you know. I should probably be getting home." His eyes looked different, now. In a mere ten seconds, his eyes had gone from thrilled and excited and passionate and hungry to scared and worried. Apparently, he had the same bipolar traits as she did.
"Yeah. You're right." Mac hated the dreadful feeling that whenever she started hanging out with Cassidy, everything was going so perfect that eventually she had to say or do something that would make their time together end in utter disaster.
NOW.
Mac felt awful. Her last two dates with Bronson had been totally fucked up…by her. And now he was being forced to go meet her parents and little brother.
"If you've got a new beau, Cindy, we just have to meet him," her mother had insisted. For God's sake, she had to use her real name and the word "beau" in the same sentence?
Bronson looked in the car as if he were headed towards the gallows.
"It'll be fine," Mac insisted, rolling her eyes. "My parents are…normal." But it might not be. Bronson smoked clove cigarettes, was a total vegetarian, and, God forbid in the McKenzie household, an atheist. Way too modern for the McKenzie's, who practically shoved jerky down their children's throats.
"I don't do good parent," Bronson mumbled, his knee bouncing on the steering wheel. "They'll probably give me a bible and refer me to the nearest faith healer."
When they walked into the McKenzie home, Mac chipperly introduced Bronson Pope to her parents and younger brother. Unfortunately, her mother then announced the meal plan- steak.
Bronson immediately averted his eyes, looking uncomfortable, while Mac dragged her mother into the living room.
"I specifically told you he was a vegetarian! God, Mom, I swear."
Her mother snorted. "For heaven's sake, Cindy. I didn't think you were serious." Mac glared at her, knowing that she was probably imagining Bronson dancing around a campfire, eating tofu and getting high.
The dinner was forced and awkward. No, Bronson didn't do any sports. No, he didn't belong to the local youth group on campus. No, he wasn't a fucking Casablancas, so stop trying to make him one, Mac thought.
That night, Mac tiptoed down to the guest room, grabbed Bronson by the hand, and led him into her room, where they proceeded to have a delicious make up session. It was her own personal way of trying to make up for her sucky parents.
"Sorry my parents are ass-faces," she offered.
"They're not."
"Shut up. They are so." Mac rolled her eyes. "Bronson, darling, are you not hungry?" she mimicked her own mother in a falsetto and Bronson cracked up. "I mean, you not eating meat can't be the reason you're not eating my delicious steak. I prepared it with you in mind- trying to demoralize you and turn you into a Republican!"
Bronson laughed harder until she covered his mouth with her own hand.
"Shut up," she whisper laughed. "My parents will hear you!"
He licked her hand, which she snapped away, giggling.
"This is why," he informed her, "I love you."
Time froze.
THEN.
Mac stepped into the shower. It was scalding hot enough to leave welts. She turned her face to accept the stream of near-boiling water, rinsing her off, cleansing her of the most screwed up date of her life.
Was she hideously ugly? God, that had to be it. Why else wouldn't he be able to have sex with her? Was she going to be a virgin until death? They could make a frickin documentary on her! Mac had always considered herself above the average teen bimbo in Neptune, but she had to let herself worry about this one. She wanted Cassidy. She wanted him so much it hurt. Didn't he feel the same way?
She washed her hair about 3 times before she stepped out and looked at herself in the mirror. Her black hair hung like thick ropes around her. She sucked in her stomach and wondered if that was why Cassidy couldn't make love to her- maybe she was too fat.
There was a gentle knock on the door. "Mac?" Cassidy asked quietly.
She almost held her breath. "Yeah?"
Silence. "I love you," he told her softly. "Don't ever forget it." Before she even thought of a response, there were footsteps, and a door being closed.
"Cassidy!"
She ducked out of the room, even though she was stark naked.
He had taken everything. His stuff, her clothes, a room key, her dignity, her life, her heart.
NOW.
She pulled away and sat up. She hadn't even realized until that second that thick tears were dripping down her face. "I think…you need to…"
"Go," he said with a sigh, finishing her sentence. He got up off her bed and sighed. "I'm sorry," he replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Was it too soon?"
She couldn't breathe. Tears sputtered down her face. She felt a sob coming on. Don't ever forget it, he had told her. He had to have had the gun in his hand, right then and there. Taking her clothes, so that she couldn't come after him. He knew what he had done and what he was about to do. But he had told her to never forget it. Could she try and love someone else? Wouldn't that be forgetting? Was she forgetting? Did she even want to?
"Jesus, Mac. Don't cry…I…" he looked away. "I just feel like I can't win with you. No matter what I say, or do, you get upset. And I can't stop it. And it damn near kills me, because I wish I could… but there's something you have to deal with, I think, before…you know. We can really do this."
He walked toward her door, and paused, with his hand on the doorknob. "I meant it though," he whispered. "Good bye, Mac."
He opened the door, shut it swiftly behind him. She heard his footsteps pattering down the steps, out the front door, and into her driveway. She watched from her window as he got into his car and backed up, pulling out of the driveway, down the street, and around the corner. He never once looked up.
She flung herself back down on the bed and cried in agony. Huge, heaving sobs escaped, and she hiccupped and moaned. She cried for Cassidy for being hurt and to everyone he'd hurt back, because he hurt so much himself he had to pass some of it on. She cried for Veronica for having to tell her best friend that her boyfriend had killed himself, that he had blown up the bus and raped her two years prior. She cried for Bronson, for wanting her, for loving the unlovable. And she cried for herself, for not being able to get over Cassidy, for still smelling him in her car and for seeing him in clouds, in tea bags, everywhere.
I love you too, she thought to herself. And I'll never forget.