A/N: This chapter continues Mac's flashback.

Since I forgot, I wanted to say thank you to silverlinings26 who did the initial beta read of this story for me. All mistakes remain mine; she was more instrumental in helping me find Dick's voice which I find to be clearer in FF than on the show.

Mac and Dick didn't talk about what transpired on New Year's Eve. Mac went back to assuming it had been the bubbles in the champagne. Dick wasn't much of a talker. He was also a firm believer that talking, especially about relationships and feelings, was a sure way to kill both.

Still they flirted and joked – albeit more physically - pushing, pulling, tickling, play slapping and mock hitting. Anybody looking at them knew it was classic playground behavior but neither of them saw it that way. Rather, it was a comfortable, predictable way for them to interact without acknowledging the changes in their relationship but which still afforded them the physical contact they subconsciously craved. However, it didn't force either one of them to think about what they were doing or what any of it meant.

Logan and Veronica convinced Mac and Dick to go skiing with them in Squaw Valley over the long Martin Luther King Day weekend, but that couple's need for some "indoor sports" left Mac and Dick alone to explore the mountain resort. Dick tried to teach Mac to ski on the bunny slope but it wasn't her sport. Despite all those family camping adventures, Mac didn't really like the outdoors. She especially was not fond of the cold. Dick snowboarded most days, enjoying the slopes almost as much he delighted in the water. Sometimes Logan joined him but only for an hour or so, because Veronica didn't ski. Mac read, worked on her computer, watched the snow fall and sipped hot chocolate by the fireplace in the lobby. She would have preferred the fireplace in their chalet but the noises emanating from the master bedroom drove her to seek refuge elsewhere.

At night, when Logan and Veronica got lost in each other, Mac and Dick hit the bars, dancing and drinking, but mostly playing bar games like foosball, air hockey, pinball, pool and even darts. They were extremely competitive with each other. When she won, he'd throw an arm around her and high five or hip check her. When he won, he'd do one of those patented Dick dance moves complete with gyrations and hand gestures. Mac often found herself having to look away when she started thinking about how else hip thrusts like those could be useful.

There were a few moments when their friendship smoldered on the verge of something more. Mac occasionally found herself staring at Dick from across the room. Through the picture windows she could often spot him approaching the Lodge even though he and every other guest were bundled into bulky layers. There was just something about the way he moved; she knew it was him. At various points throughout the weekend, she would almost catch him staring at her. He always managed to look away – and surprisingly not guilty – before she caught him.

Dick's size and proximity kept the other guys away from Mac all weekend although it never dawned on her that anyone was checking her out. In contrast, she couldn't help but observe all the girls who flirted with Dick, but he didn't seem to notice - which wasn't like him at all. Say what you want about his intellect, Dick Casablancas had never been clueless when it came to hooking up with a willing hottie.

Sunday night after they had just beaten two guys at foosball, Mac and Dick were standing by the bar sipping their drinks and surreptitiously staring at each other over the rims of their glasses, while the size of the crowd kept pressing them closer together. They could both feel the heat radiating off the other and it had nothing to do with the temperature in the room or the bulk of their sweaters. They'd catch each other's eyes and hold those gazes for a few heartbeats longer than conventionally polite for two platonic friends. As they locked eyes and licked their own lips, moving millimeters closer together as if being pulled together by magnets, the mood was ruined when the jostling crowd caused some guy to dump a beer down Mac's back. The sincerity of his instant apology was the only thing that saved that guy from becoming immediately acquainted with Dick's fist. Cold and wet, Mac had enough of the bustling lodge and called it a night.

#*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two weeks later, Mac helped Dick play host at the boys' Super Bowl party, because Veronica and Logan were only interested in playing tonsil hockey with one another. The friends gave each other high fives after particularly funny commercials. They'd known for some time that they had similar senses of humor, although Dick's was bawdier. Mac had convinced him to put on Animal Planet's Puppy Bowl during the otherwise boring half time show and he was immediately fascinated by the camera under the water dish.

After Dick's team lost, he upheld his end of their bet by sporting blue streaks in his shaggy blonde hair during the entire week following the big game. If she had lost, Mac would have been required to wear one of Dick's silly slogan tee shirts to the film class they took together on Mondays, Wednesday, and Fridays to fulfill a humanities requirement for graduation.

Midway through February, Dick shocked himself and Mac by asking her if she'd have dinner with him that Friday. Misunderstanding his question, and knowing that Logan was taking Veronica to Las Vegas for some spywear / gadget convention, Mac gamely replied, "Sure. I can pick up a pizza or something and come over. Half meat lovers, half veggie? Does that work for you?" It was their standard choice when they shared a pizza during a spontaneous game or movie marathon. Although they hung out fairly often, it was almost by default. They rarely planned to get together; it always just sort of happened.

"No," Dick began but Mac cut him off.

"You want Mexican instead?"

"No." Irritated by her lack of comprehension, Dick grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him. "I want you to have like dinner dinner with me. You know? I want you to get dressed up and totally do your hair like girls do and put on make up and shit, well if you want to. I want to pick you up and take you to a nice place and . . . and have dinner . . . with me, you and me, . . . together." Dick had never really asked a girl out to dinner before but emphasized that last word, hoping she'd understand his meaning without making him say the word date. His own brain hadn't quite processed the fact that he just asked Mac out, but he knew he wanted to spend more time with her and not just in a friendly way. The memory of how she felt in his arms was a feeling he was anxious to recapture. Dick had hooked up with dozens, if not hundreds, of women in his short life. He'd brought girls to parties. He'd even eaten in restaurants with a few of them, but it had always been a spur of the moment thing because he was hungry, not something he designed days in advance.

Mac regarded him for a moment as if she hadn't understood a word that he said. Regaining her composure after blinking a few times, she responded with more questions than answers. "You want to have dinner? With me?" she asked pointing at herself for clarification as if there had been another person in this conversation. "This Friday? You and me? Do you know what this Friday is?" Her words seemed to jumble together.

"Yeah," Dick resented it when people who ought to know better thought he was a total moron. "It's the last day of the week, duh." He dropped his hands from her arms.

Okay, maybe he doesn't know what Friday is, thought Mac. "It's Valentine's Day."

"No, it's not. Even I know V-Day is Sunday. Friday is a different day, not Valentine's Day." Geez, he thought. Why do chicks get so hung up about a stupid Hallmark holiday anyway?

"And you want to have dinner dinner with me on Friday? In a restaurant? Just the two of us? Alone?" The questions continued to tumble out. She knew she sounded ungracious, but it still wasn't registering that she'd heard him correctly.

"Yeah." When Mac remained silent in the face of his offer, Dick shoved his free hand uneasily into his pocket and began swinging his notebook next to his hip for lack of anything else to do. He looked almost five as he scuffed the toe of his flip flop on the ground. Why was she taking so long to answer him? "Well? You're supposed to be the smart one. These aren't, you know, hard questions."

"Oh. Um," Mac stuttered. Dick Casablancas couldn't be asking her on a date over Valentine's weekend, could he? They didn't have that kind of relationship, did they? Her mind fluttered back to the kisses they'd shared over New Year's Eve and their near kiss at Squaw Valley. She wondered what might have happened if that guy hadn't dumped a beer on her; she'd been fairly certain Dick had been moving in to kiss her. Then she thought about how close they had grown over the years. They often hugged and Veronica always complained that Mac and Dick shared a number of private, inside jokes that no one else understood. Maybe they did have that kind of relationship? "Okay. Sure. I'll have dinner with you on Friday. What time?"

"I'll pick you up around 7:30," Dick replied looking far calmer than he had in the last several minutes. "Be ready. The DickMeister is gonna show you a good time, baby."

Mac just stared at him like he'd lost whatever little sense he may have had.

#~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On Friday Mac was uncharacteristically nervous. She fidgeted so much in film class Dick literally reached a long arm across her seat to still her movements. "Dude, what the hell's wrong with you?" he barked, but not unkindly, suspecting the answer was the same thing that was making him nervous: later.

Willing herself to calm down, Mac practiced the breathing exercises she'd learned in therapy. This was ridiculous. It was film class. It was Dick, her friend. Her platonic friend who she'd shared dozens of meals with over the years. Yeah right, a little voice inside her head taunted her. Just keep telling yourself that. Dick is your platonic friend. Sure he is. He's not the insanely hot guy sitting next to you, radiating warmth, who smells like sandalwood and the ocean. The one who would be picking you up in about four hours to go on a dinner date with him on Valentine's weekend. No, that can't possibly be why you are as nervous as virgin on prom night.

Dick was having an equally difficult time concentrating. When he realized how keyed up Mac was, part of him smiled and part of him panicked. It was enthralling to know he could make Cindy nervous but it was also a bit sad to think she might be afraid of him, or worse, that she was reconsidering her decision to have dinner with him.

Neither took good notes that afternoon. When class was over neither knew what to say. Finally, Mac broke the awkward silence. "Well I'd better get going. . . . I have a few things I need to get done before . . ."

"Whatever," Dick assured her, trying his best to appear nonchalant.

"So I'll see you at 7:30?"

Smiling, Dick promised, "Abso-posi-lutely."

At 7:25 p.m. Dick knocked on Mac's door. She couldn't believe that the boy who was late for everything was early. When she opened the door, it was all she could do not to gasp. There was Dick, looking delectable in a black oxford unbuttoned at the neck with the sleeves casually rolled up; his dark jeans accentuated the muscles in his thighs, which rippled as he rocked slightly back and forth on the balls of his feet. One of his hands was stuffed in his pocket, wrinkling the front tails of his loose shirt. He'd even combed his hair.

Mac wasn't sure what to do when Dick pulled a single red rose out from behind his back and presented it to her. It was wrapped in a cellophane cone and the edges of the outer petals were turning black. It was pathetic really, but on the other hand it was also kind of endearing.

"They had these in a bucket by the pumps at the Gas-o-Rama so I figure what the hell? Chicks like flowers and you're a chick so . . ." Dick justified his decision to get her a cheesy, dying flower.

Finding her voice and her manners, Mac reached out to take it from him. A small, neon orange sticker proclaimed that he had paid $1.29 for the flower. Stepping back to invite him inside she narrated her retreat into the kitchen, "Just let me get something to put this in." Re-emerging with what passed for a rose in a bud vase, she confessed, "I can't believe you got me this. That was . . . sweet. Thank you." She was oddly touched by the gesture.

Dick's eyes shyly met hers. "I wanted . . ." he hesitated momentarily, then continued after finding his resolve, "I didn't want to mess this up. Cause… well…you know that this is like a date, right?"

She had been hoping and had dressed according to that assumption, but it was reassuring to hear him spell it out.

Shamelessly leering at her outfit, Dick answered his own question. "I guess you did know," Disk said appreciatively. "You look 'smokin'." He reached out to grab her hand and twirled her around in the hallway for a 360º view.

Mac was wearing a dark burgundy satin blouse tucked into tight black jeans. A fringed scarf was tied around her tiny waist to add contrast and accentuate her curves. She'd worn high heeled black boots in an unsuccessful attempt to close the vast height differential between them. Her makeup was darker than usual and a heavy hand with the eyeliner gave her a sensual, smoldering look. A thick silver necklace with a large, heart pendant covered in scroll work sat in the hollow of her throat. Black onyx stones dangled from her ears, hidden by her lustrous hair unless the light and angle caught them just right.

Offering her his arm, Dick suggested, "C'mon. Let's go; our reservations are for eight and you know how totally sucky Southern California traffic can be."

Mac grabbed her wrap and took his arm. "Traffic? Aren't we staying in Neptune?"

"What? I guess we could if you want, but our reservations are in Costa del Mar."

"Costa del Mar?" Realization dawned as she spoke their destination aloud. "You didn't?" Mac asked somewhat nervously, her eyes wide in astonishment.

Dick smirked, his old familiar cockiness returning. He knew she was impressed that not only did he accommodate her dietary preferences but he made reservations at one of the best new vegetarian restaurants in the Southland. He also hoped that she remembered talking about the Magic Garden with Veronica on the way back from the ski trip. "You wanted to go to that new veggie place. You were talking to Ronnie about it in the car. The guy is like on the Food Channel or something." Mac was speechless but nodded so Dick continued, "What? I can pay attention, when it's important, dude."

When they pulled up outside the restaurant Mac was in awe. "I can't believe you made reservations at the Magic Garden. I've wanted to go here since it opened." Not that it was in her price range. "How long have you had these?" She was terrified that he was going to say he made these reservations months ago for some other girl and that she was only here because that other woman had cancelled. Well, she resigned herself; at least I'm going to get to eat here.

"I made them on Wednesday. I figure we gotta eat somewhere but I'm probably gonna need to get Del Taco later. I need my meat. Man cannot live on veggies alone. It's not natural. If God didn't want people to eat meat He wouldn't have made animals so tasty."

Overhearing his comment, a well-dressed couple nearby scoffed at his crude pronouncement. If Dick saw them, which was unlikely, their derision didn't faze him. Mac turned her head to hide her eye roll.

Looking around as they stepped inside, Dick grinned when he saw the bar. "At least I can get a beer. I know that's not made from animals."

Mac chuckled and looked at him incredulously. "This place is booked weeks in advance. How'd you get reservations on such short notice?"

"Money talks," he shrugged indifferently. Mac didn't need to know that after offering the maitre'd $500.00 for a table and still getting turned down, he started to freak. He ended up calling Logan's buddy, Connor Larkin, the actor, and begging Connor to make the reservation. Less than 100 miles south of Hollywood, star power still opened doors.

Dinner was amazing. They talked and laughed and got lost in each other's eyes over the candlelight. Mac had never had such exquisite food. The sommelier had recommended a light pinot noir, which melded beautifully with all of the flavors prepared by the chef. She was more surprised that Dick seemed to be enjoying his meal too. She'd never seen him eat anything besides meat and potatoes, fast food or outright junk. They were feeding each other and eating off the other's plates. When Dick calmed down he could actually be sweet, especially when he wasn't trying to show off for his Pi Sig brothers - who all seemed to expect him to always act like an ass. Mac preferred this Dick. Her Dick. OMG she was getting possessive about him. When did that happen? Probably when she realized he was sweet like Cassidy, but so much more self-assured.

Overall, it didn't seem like a first date because they were both so relaxed and comfortable around each other, even with the sexual tension occasionally sparking the air. Mac was reminded of that old saying: Love is friendship that has caught fire. Wait a minute. Love? Could it really be? Could she be in love with Dick? How does anybody fall in love on a first date? That's ridiculous; then again, was this really a first date or had they actually been building toward this moment for the last three years? That last thought seemed to stop time.

From Dick's perspective, Mac suddenly appeared to freeze like a deer caught in headlights. He reached over to take her hand. "What's wrong, Cindy?"

His voice calling her given name shook her out of her reverie. "Nothing's wrong," she assured him, rubbing her thumb over his hand as she spoke.

"Look, I may not be as smart as you, but I'm seriously not that dumb, especially when it like comes to you. What gives? Where'd you go?"

Mac smiled beneficently at her date. She knew she'd been caught thinking but she wasn't ready to confess the whole truth to him so she offered a small revelation. "When you call me Cindy, it startled me."

"It's like your name, isn't it?" Dick was mortified. He was sure her name was Cindy MacKenzie. He'd heard teachers call her that. It's what they said at graduation. He heard Veronica tease her with it once or twice. He was pretty sure he'd heard Beaver call her Cindy. There's no way he'd been calling her the wrong name for the last two months. He only did that with skanky one-night-stands whose names weren't worth learning and he hadn't had one of those in weeks. He'd had sex with some random sorority girl at the Pi Sig house after they got back from Squaw Valley but he spent the whole time wondering what Mac would be like in bed. Had he thought about it, he may have realized that he bedded the petite brunette based on her resemblance to Mac. That's when he came up with this idea to find out and now he was blowing it by calling her the wrong name.

Understanding part of his distress, Mac let him off the hook and patted his hand. "Yes, it's my name but until I heard you say it, I didn't always like it."

Dick positively beamed at her confession and nodded his head. He was thrilled to learn that she liked it when he called her Cindy but she didn't care for it when other people did. It was like their secret. So Ghostworld actually likes being called Cindy? Sweet.

After they shared a chocolate mousse made of soy, carob and tofu, Mac excused herself to the ladies' room as Dick paid the bill. She checked her makeup, brushed her hair, reapplied some perfume to certain strategic pulse points and took a shot of breath spray. He was waiting for her in the lobby when she emerged and reached his hand out to take hers after giving the valet the ticket to return his car.

They stood there stupidly grinning at one another, while Dick playfully swung their joined hands between them. When the valet drove up with Dick's sports car, Mac made her move. Reaching up and accepting a little help from Dick who bent his head more toward her level, Mac planted a chaste kiss similar in intensity to the third one they'd shared on New Year's Eve on his lips. "Thank you for an amazing dinner."

"Whatever," Dick shrugged. "I was kinda shocked I liked vegetables this much. Go figure."

"They were okay too," Mac quipped moving toward the exit after playfully wrinkling her nose at him.

Chuckling but not letting go of her hand, Dick obediently followed her. He opened the car door and helped her inside. While she was somewhat distracted putting on her seatbelt, Dick ducked his head into the car to capture her lips in a real kiss, gently seeking admission into her mouth which was immediately granted. When Mac began to thread her right hand through the hair at the back of his neck, Dick broke the kiss. "You're welcome." Closing the door, he jauntily sauntered around the front of the vehicle only taking his eyes off her to tip the valet who was holding his door open. "So, like, whaddya wanna do now?"

Without hesitation, Mac replied, "Let's go back to your house."