BooksBarbecue
Back When We Were Bright and Beautiful Save as PDF
Chapters (72)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Part One
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. Part Two
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. Part Three
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. Epilogue
  68. Author’s Note
  69. Acknowledgments
  70. About the Author
  71. Also by Jillian Medoff
  72. About the Publisher

I’m not suggesting predators don’t exist. But not every man is a predator and not every girl prey. Like any relationship, dynamics shift. Emotions wax and wane. But you can’t say every girl has no agency, that we’re all weak and foolish, that we don’t know our own minds. To deny me choice over my body is to deny me a self. To deny me a me.

My relationship with Lawrence Quinn evolves over years and more years. People have misconceptions about affairs between older men and young women. That they’re rooted in power and centered on sex is one. Older men push younger women into behavior they don’t want is another. But our relationship is rooted in trust and centered on love. Lawrence didn’t touch me until I was ready, despite how often I asked, how forcefully I pushed, all my ultimatums.

He loves to tease me about this: that I’m predator and he’s prey. “You picked me, Cassie,” he says in jest—in jest because he’s naked and splayed underneath me like Christ on the cross. “You picked, groomed, and broke me down. I had no choice. I had to say yes.”

“You had . . . you . . .” I’m panting. Bearing down, I fuck him harder. Sweat rolls off my skin. I lick salt from his lips. “You had . . . no choice . . .” He has no choice.

Afterward, flat on our backs and soaking in sunlight, we laugh and laugh at the absurdity.

46

I CAN’T SLEEP IN THIS HOTEL. ALONE IN MY BED, SEPARATED from Lawrence by a single wall, I ache with desire. My dreams, hallucinogenic and vivid, are Technicolor movies that I watch and experience simultaneously. They’re so immersive, I can’t be sure if they’re dreams or alternative lives. I work hard to decode the baroque symbolism and hidden messages, but nothing makes sense. All I know for sure is that we’re running out of time.

A few of my dreams feature Hawkins Cove. I’m with my brothers, who are in their twenties, but absorbed in childhood activities, like digging holes. In one, I leap over ragged rocks that are slick with blood. The water is threatening, dark red, viscous, and whirling with rage. Billy is there, too, taunting me by refusing to speak. I try to get his attention, but he backs away and then dives, headfirst, into the bloody water, as if over a cliff. Don’t leave me, I want to say, but my words are stuck. I wake up crying with my throat raw.