Survival of the Fittest

"I'm going to smile and make you think I'm happy, I'm going to laugh, so you don't see me cry, I'm going to let you go in style, and even if it kills me- I'm going to smile."
-Lonestar

"So," Grandpa spoke up, breaking the angry silence, "I see you two've hit it off great."

He'd gotten off work early tonight, and unfortunately had forgotten to bring armor with him. The only audible response was the sound of angry clinking forks. Grandpa looked from Logan to me before speaking again.

"This is a delicious casserole," he paused, staring at Logan. "Don't you think so?"

"I've had better."

"Yeah Grandpa," I piped up. "Didn't you know? Logan's only accustom to the best."

"Yes, I am." He dropped his fork angrily. "And to be frank, this doesn't even come near it!"

"What don't you go smooch that rich, bratty Brooke of yours?" I stood heatedly dropping my fork on the table carelessly.

"Well at least that would be much better than this dang casserole!" he followed my actions, and then looked at Grandpa apologetically. "I'm sorry, I've got to run. Good evening sir."

Once I heard the door shut and his truck start, I grabbed my plate with an angry huff. I began clearing off the table, not even looking at what I was picking up.

"Hey," Grandpa spoke up; keeping a tight grip on the plate I was trying to take. "I'm not done with that!"

"Sorry,"

"What's gotten into you two?"

"Nothing, nothing at all. I'm just peachy." I threw the wet rag into the sink angrily and began washing dishes with fury.

"Never mind," he took another bite, mumbling to himself. "I don't wanna know."

***

I slammed the door of his Lexus, hoping that I'd somehow magically acquired super-strength and that the door would fall right off its hinges. Stomping towards the front door, I could hear him slam the car door and follow after me.

"Hey, and watch how you shut the door!"

"Why don't you watch your face? If you saw it about as half as much as we had to, you'd realize why I'm slamming doors on you!"

"Huh? What kind of a come-back is that?"

"One that was obviously too advanced for your forgetful pea-brain to understand!"

"My pea-brain?" he repeated.

"Yes, your pea-brain Einstein! I don't believe I stuttered!" I turned stomping up my front porch steps; he followed, stopping at the bottom of them.

"You are such a—!"

"A what?" I screamed, challenging him.

"You're such a typical woman!"

"Hah!" I chuckled. "Well good, because last time I checked, that's what I was!"

"Well at least I don't chew my food like a cow chewing cud!"

"At least I don't look like one!"

"You know what?" he yelled infuriated. "Go inside!"

"Wow, I'm glad you can actually remember where inside is! I was planning on doing that before you and your pea-brain said so!"

"Just leave!"

"You know what Garret?" I turned, speaking softly, then screamed at the top of my lungs. "That's the smartest thing you've said all evening! Good night!" I paused reaching for the door before turning around again. "This is my house!"

"So what?" he yelled back.

"You leave! Get off my property!"

"Fine Miss Gassidy, I'd be honored to leave your stench-filled presence."

The nearest thing to me was deserted plate, perched on one of our chairs, with only a fork left upon it. Angrily, I picked it up and hurled it at the back of his head –with perfect aim, I daresay-. It hit him square on, and Garret turned, picking up the fork. He launched it back at me, with barely half the precision, before jumping in his car and speeding out of the driveway.

My parents were on the couch, in the middle of a scary scene, when I opened the door, and let out a huge, angry 'Arg!'. Both jump, frightened eyes fixated upon me. I hardly noticed them as I kicked off my shoes, grumbling frivolously while I stormed up the stairs to my room.

"Stupid, moronic, imbecilic, dumb-witted—!" I'd been pulling off my clothes to get into my pajamas, when my outstretched hand hit the ceiling fan. "Ugh! Holy freaking' son-of-a-one-eyed-prairie-dog!" I fell to the ground, cradling my hand

After a moment or two, I looked down at my hand; it was turning a purple shade. I turned my injured hand over and over again, before walking downstairs for a zip-lock bag of ice. All the while my parents watched me go from the stairs to the kitchen and back again, total confusion written across their faces. Once back in my room, I turned on my floor fan to tune out my grumbling. I flicked the lights off, hopped in bed, and stared at my ceiling.

He was so stupid. It was July third, my birthday, and he'd asked me to go out with him tonight. Like any other girl, I thought: 'Hey, my boyfriend's so sweet. He's taking me out for my birthday! What a caring thought!', but no! We go out to a restaurant and he didn't so much as mention my birthday, in fact, he said that he'd recently got promoted with his job –now manager- and that that was the reason for our celebration. Then, he had called my by the wrong name, and if that wasn't enough, the nickname he called me by was Mace, as if it was the most natural thing in the world!

"Oh my bad," he'd said. "I meant Cass."

Those names weren't very identical enough to call it a simple miss-hap and that was where I drew the line. I had put up with listening to his 'all about me' praise and what not all day, then this Mace crap pops up; I was a volcano ready to erupt.

"Mace?" I stood, taking the napkin off my lap –it had protected my brand new LBD, little black dress, I'd worn just for the occasion- and began to slide the tiny matching purse over my shoulder.

"I meant Cass," he repeated. "My bad, sorry. Now will you please sit down and stop making a scene?"

"No, I won't sit down," I spoke calmly; the restaurant wasn't crowded and no one paid attention to us, but continued eating their food undisturbed, oh yeah, big scene. "Oh, and by the way, congratulations on the promotion, but if you could stop thinking about yourself for more than two seconds to realize it's a special day for me to."

"Oh really, is it throw-a-hissy-fit-because-it's-not-all-about-me-for-one day?"

"You know, having a birthday usually gives people the right to have a day all about them, but you wouldn't know what it's like to share the limelight now would you?" I began to walk out of the restaurant; I'd made it outside the building before he caught up with me.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"And how do you plan on getting there?"

"Any way possible, why it should be your concern, I have no idea. It's your day to celebrate your promotion. Go on; don't bother wasting it on me."

"C'mon," he spoke angrily. "Get in the car." He reached for my arm, barely grazing it.

"No," I pulled away from him. "Don't touch me."

"Get in the car!" he yelled, grabbing my arm, dragging me to the car. He threw me in the passenger's seat, causing the seat-belt buckle to dig painfully into my side, before slamming the door abruptly in my face.

The tense energy that filled the tiny space inside the car was thick enough to cut it with a knife. We both stayed deathly silent, neither audacious enough to speak, let alone turn on the radio. I didn't so much as cough to clear my throat for fear of seeing him that furious again. He drove wildly, tires squealing when he'd hit the gas too hard. I kept myself as close to my door as possible, only filling half of my seat. My side throbbed from where I'd hit the buckle, but I didn't dare let out a sigh or whimper. We soon arrived home, and as fast as I could, I jumped from the car.

I glanced up at my ceiling, reminiscing on the night, searching for clues as to any mistakes I may have made. Except for my one pitiful come-back, I couldn't find a problem, this time it was all on him.

As an alternative to keeping my mind on past events, I looked toward the future, or well, tomorrow. It would be the Fourth of July, meaning my mom would be throwing her annual party –the biggest bash she threw-. Everyone would be coming, her friends, mine, my dad's, family's; she'd hired the works, as she usually did. We had someone bring out a carload of fireworks, someone to put on the fireworks show, a caterer, mechanical bull –don't ask about that tradition-, inflatable's, and so much more…

I groaned, as I rolled over on my side, my newly found bruise from the car, was pressured. Annoyed, I turned over on my stomach. Garret's family of course had been invited, if I was lucky he wouldn't dare show his face. Lucky for me, each of the guys were coming, so even if he did come, I'd have a distraction as well as back-up. Not tired, I reached over, grabbing my iPod. Popping it in my ears, I pulled the covers over my head and let the music cradle me to sleep inside my sanctuary.

Noise floated up to my room, causing me to dig deeper into my covers, the people my mom had hired for the event were busy downstairs setting up. Drifting back and forth between dreams and reality, I stayed in my bed, not bothering to venture downstairs. Only when my mom dragged me out my room, did I bother to offer a hand.

As the day drug on and on, I began to get edgy, nervous even. When the clock hit six thirty, my mom hurried me upstairs to make myself presentable. The boys were the first to arrive, followed by an array families and middle-aged couples. My worst fears came true when I was Garret and his family walked in the door. For the first time, it seemed to me that he actually appeared out of place, like a puzzle piece that doesn't match up.

Garret looked over at me and smiled, slightly waving. I turned away from him, focusing on my protectors around me. They'd already learned about the bruise I received from him when they went to give me one of their bear hugs, which sent them into a rage when laying eyes on the bruise -four finger's width-. I could feel them tense up next to me, yet they kept the conversation light and mild, offering me a drink every so often.

"Cassidy," I felt a hand lay on my shoulder.

"What," I didn't bother turning around; I already knew who it was and had no interest in speaking to him.

"Could I speak with you in private for a moment?"

"I don't know, can you?" Hal laughed while taking a swig from the cup he held, at my English joke, and ended up coughing.

Garret looked annoyed. Good.

"Cassidy, may I speak with you in private for a moment?"

"No, you may not." I fiddled with the red, white, and blue umbrella that had been placed in the glass.

"Cass, please?"

"If you'll not bother me anymore, fine." I heaved a breath and handed my drink to Dylan, who took it willingly, as well as a sip from it.

I followed him out to the front porch, away from the festivities, not bothering to take the outstretched hand. We stood out there in silence for a while, yards apart. He stayed on the opposite side of the porch, not wanting to get near me. After five minutes of nothing, I decided to leave.

"Well if that's all, I'll be leaving."

"Wait," he reached out, holding my wrist gently.

"Then say what it is you wanted to say." I pulled away, turning to gaze at the pink's and purple's of the sunset.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry for being so selfish last night. I didn't even bother to think of you, let alone remember your birthday. My behavior was unnecessary and uncalled for. Could you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

I stayed silent, trying to hold my own, to stay strong.

"Cass?" he reached out touching my arm, not bothering to remove his hand.

"What?" was all I could get out.

"Would you forgive me?" his thumb began to gently rub my arm, as his other hand lay at my waist.

Garret came up behind me holding me gently. I could feel his chest against my back and breathe in his sweet scent; everything about him was warm and welcoming.

"Well?" he spoke patiently.

I fought in my head. He knew I loved to be held like this. I lay back, resting against him completely trusting.

"I forgive you." My voice sounded so unstable compared to his.

He laughed softly at my trembling, wrapping his arms completely around me till I was warm and secure.

"I love you," he whispered in my ear.

I let out a deep breath, and then breathed in his sweet scent again.

That had been the first time he'd ever vocally said 'I love you' to me, as well as our first major argument. As the sun set slowly behind the clouds, firecrackers could be heard in the distance. In the back of my mind, I silently wished that even though first's were amazing, that there would be more to come in the near future. That the future held more I love yous and more sunset's exactly like this, for Garret and I.

"Oh, and by the way," he took his right hand and reached into his pocket, then dropped something over my head, clipping it in the back. My fingertips felt a small white gold heart, turning it over in my fingers; it was beautiful and delicate to the touch. "Happy birthday."