She didn't need Nancy Drew to spell it out for her, although Veronica had done so anyway.
Dick likes you
Since fucking when?
Probably right around the same time they had started being sort of maybe friends. Surely that was all that was, just Dick being confused because he didn't do girl friends who weren't girlfriends.
She picks her book up off the floor and sits down heavily on her bed.
She'd chalk it up to being drunk but he hadn't tasted of anything that would lend that theory credit.
This isn't an issue.
In fact its a non issue.
Who cares if Dick likes her, she doesn't like Dick. She barely likes him enough to stay in the same room as him, she certainly doesn't like him enough to let him put his tongue in her mouth...or any other place for that matter.
Although she figures he must be good at it. Why else would girls still be with Dick even if only for short periods of time. He had a reputation for being an absolute asshole. A rich entitled frat boy who knew his was around certain parts of anatomy.
He's probably good at all sorts of stuff like that.
Why are you even thinking about that Cindy Mackenzie.
You do not want to have a relationship with Dick Casablancas.
No, but she's not really thinking about a relationship.
Ugh stop.
The look on his face and the desperation in not wanting to hear her deny it clearly said that maybe he had been. So no hot no strings sex for you Miss Mackenzie.
Dealing with Casablancas' was dangerous anyway.
Like one Casablancas stain on her soul wasn't bad enough he wanted his chance to rip her apart too? What was with that family? Was it something in her blood that made them want to completely wreck her? A pheromone maybe?
Flopping back on her bed she holds the book up, arms out straight looking at the book that she'd completely forgotten that she'd declared her love of Cassidy all over. Scribbling in the margins like a blushing school girl.
God she'd been such a confusing mess for him...wait.
She hadn't been reading this while she was with Cassidy.
She'd read The Prince in tenth grade.
When she'd been reading it in spanish class instead of listening to Senorita McMumbles-a-lot.
She sat up quickly.
The blood rushing around her body too fast, her heart thumping wildly, her eyes wide.
"Oh god."
The spanish class she'd had with Dick.
When she'd sat behind him and thanked god for the fact that he'd grown tall and wide shouldered over the summer and was able to hide her activities.
That whole semester he hadn't been with Madison.
When he smelt of the ocean and boy stuff and great.
And she'd wanted to touch his terribly good looking hair.
And he'd invited her to that party.
God her first 09er party.
Her only 09er party until being invited by the younger Casablancas.
The party he'd gotten back together with Madison at and she'd sat in the backyard not drinking her beer and wondering when she could leave.
"Oh my god."
The Casablancas in question when she'd absently doodled in the margins hadn't been Cassidy at all.
God she thought she was going to be sick.
How had she completely forgotten all about that? Blocked it out she guesses, it lives in that corner of her mind where she puts all the things that don't seem to matter any more, like old test scores and summer camps, piano lessons, and old crushes that she'd moved passed.
Maybe she owed him an apology...and he did need this book for his class. Maybe he'd be able to look past her grade ten pathetic doodling and just focus on the Machiavellian words.
He's going to think she wants to be with him.
She should have just written a note or something.
God why is she here
She turns to leave when the door opens.
"Mac?" she turns around slowly to see Dick standing in the doorway.
"Uh hey..." she feels super awkward. Which is just ridiculous because she doesn't like him and it'll totally be fine.
Totally be fine? Bullshit. it's going to be awful.
"What are you doing here?" He asks and she's grateful that he sounds awkward too. Obviously he expected her to lay low for a while, to totally drop of his radar until this whole little thing between them was over.
Something she was thinking was probably a very good idea.
"I came to give you this back." she holds out the book, arms fully extended to keep as much distance between them as possible. Not that he hadn't been able to easily overcome any space earlier, "You need it for your assignment right?"
His eyes drop to the book in her hands, he pushes her hands away softly and his skin is too hot against hers.
"I don't want to look at it Mac. I'll just buy a copy."
"That's stupid just take it."
He looks up at her quickly, "What so I can look at how much you loved my brother? I think I'll pass."
"It's not you're brother." she tells him quietly.
It's not a big deal that was years ago, it didn't mean anything any more.
But if it doesn't mean anything any more why is her heart pounding.
He takes the book from her hands, "It's me?" he looks up at her and his smile is just painfully bright. He moves in and she steps back quickly her back slamming into the wall.
"I haven't touched that book since the tenth grade Dick." she tells him what she hopes is firmly.
"The tenth grade..." he looks confused and she can't blame him, not really. Not when she's giving him hope and then pulling the rug out from under him.
"Tenth grade spanish? I sat behind you." she huffs because he doesn't even seem to know what she's talking about at all. Like she hadn't existed to him until she'd shown up at the carnival hand in hand with his brother.
The very idea burns.
"Yeah I know you sat behind me..." he's looking at a page further back.
Narrowing her eyes she can see it's his name and hers paired.
"But you didn't like me." he looks up at her.
"I did."
"No you didn't." he holds the door open and steps aside to let her in and she accepts his offer it feels stupid to argue about this in the hallway.
"Yes I did." she tells him firmly, turning to see that he's standing really close, she looks up at him, up into wide blue eyes and blonde hair.
"Then why didn't you come to the party?"
He remembered the party?
He remembered inviting her to the party?
"I did go..." she tells him and her voice is this soft thing she doesn't recognise.
Calm down girl, you don't like him. You haven't liked him in years...
"I didn't see you."
She steps away from him and feels cold for it, turning away from him, "Yeah well you were a little busy with your tongue down Madison's throat." the words come out with a hiss of jealousy and she's surprised at herself.
It was years ago.
What did it matter any more.
"I thought you blew me off. Madison said you'd...god I'm an idiot."
It was a long time ago, what did it matter now. So what if she had liked him and he had liked her. What did it matter now after everything, after his brother, after she'd been ripped apart and sewn back together crooked. She'd never be the same again, she would never be that bold, smart ass fifteen year old girl with kool-aid dyed hair again.
He didn't really want her. No he'd just been reminded of what she had been once, that was the person he wanted. A memory. A ghost.
That was the Mrs. Casablancas he had pictured in his mind.
"I'm going to go..." she tells him softly trying to step around him, but he isn't making it easy for her.
"Don't go." he sounds broken and maybe he isn't the same either. She knows he isn't. can tell in the way his eyes don't sparkle, in the way he talks, in the fucking structure of his sentences that he's broken too.
"I'm not that girl Dick, it's not tenth grade any more and you're easy charm and perfect hair just isn't enough." She pushes past him and makes it a couple of feet before she's stopped by his arms around her middle.
Holding tight and fast, his face pressed against her shoulder, his hair on her skin.
"Don't go." he whispers into her skin and she finds that even if she could move from his too tight grip she doesn't actually want to.
"why?"
he pressed his mouth against her skin in response, sending a rush of feeling through her body, heart thumping, lungs bursting, it wasn't fair.
She didn't like him any more.
He shouldn't have this effect on her.
She doesn't like him.
She doesn't.
He's holding her so solidly, and she hasn't felt that safe in a long time, she doesn't want to like him.
But maybe that's the thing. It isn't that she doesn't like him it's that she doesn't want to, which is so incredibly painfully different.
"I'm not the same girl that wrote those things Dick." she tells him but his hands hold fast and his mouth moves closer to her neck.
"I'm not the same either Mac."
One of his hands moves from her waist to brush her hair back away from her neck. She tilts her head granting him access and she can feel him smile against his skin.
He loosens his grip on her allowing her to turn to look at him.
She opens her mouth but his presses into hers before she can get any words out.
She responds this time and the second she does it changes, slow and soft and powerful.
He picks her up.
Like a princess and his smile brightens at her squeak of surprise.
"This doesn't mean I like you or anything. Or that we're dating. I am not you're girlfriend Dick." she tells him poking him in the chest as he takes her into his bedroom and slams the door closed behind him.
"Sure it doesn't." he smiles at her dropping her onto the bed delighting in the burst of laughter that fly's out of her before she can stop it.
He doesn't believe her.
Which is fine because she doesn't believe her either.