Five hours later, Casey sat on the bed, her head propped up against pillows and her eyes fixed on the television screen. She'd barely moved since she'd gotten up about three hours ago to shower and change into pajamas. Her head was still throbbing, so she didn't blow dry her hair, leaving it lying in curls around her face and shoulders. She dreaded the moment Derek would arrive home, when she knew she'd have to thank him for taking care of her. She shuddered just at the thought of having to apologize to and thank him, and a visible shiver ran through her body when she heard the doorknob click from somebody opening the door. Derek's tall, overconfident figure appeared almost instantly, twirling the keys to the rental car on his index finger. He threw them onto the table in the room nonchalantly, and then headed to the bathroom without saying a word to Casey. For a few moments, Casey could feel annoyance boiling inside her for being ignored, but forced it down. After all, she couldn't start bickering with Derek if she was going to humble herself. Finally, he emerged, still in his signature leather jacket and purposely messed up hair. He went over to his suitcase and pretended to be looking for something, but Casey knew he was just waiting for his thank you. She attempted to swallow her pride along with the nervous lump in her throat before finally opening her mouth.
"The smoothie thing helped." She started in a small voice. She actually had a whole speech written out in her head, but she couldn't force herself to go through with it.
"Yep, the Spanish sure know how to put fruit in a blender." Derek responded distractedly as he removed a wrinkled blue shirt out from under the mess of clothes in his suitcase, inspecting it as though wondering if it was fit for wearing.
For a split second, Casey realized how well that shirt would go with his hair and eyes. Then she pulled herself back into reality. "Last night, I know you were about to…have…a thing." Casey said uneasily, trying to sound apologetic.
"Yeah…Michelle…or something like that." He said, throwing the shirt on his bed and pulling out a red and brown tie, one that Casey noticed was almost the exact shade of his hair…
"Well, sorry for interrupting." Casey finished, suddenly relieved that it was over.
"I kind of owed you for before, so, whatever." He murmured, obviously more interested in the stain on his tie than in anything Casey had to say. Finally, he plucked some light pants out of the pile, draped them over the back of a chair and plopped down onto his bed.
Casey turned her attention back to the TV, wondering why Derek didn't torture her by asking her to go on, delving into how inconvenient she was. She thought about just letting it go, but decided that she couldn't live with herself unless she told him what was on her mind. She gulped again and turned to Derek.
"When I planned this trip, I didn't plan on—"
"Ugh, just save it Casey." Derek said, not even doing her the favor of tearing his eyes away from the television long enough to glance at her.
Casey decided to let it slip for now, but was still confused as she turned her attention back to whatever was on the Spanish-speaking TV. They stayed like that for several more hours, until Derek finally got up and grabbed the clothes he'd picked out previously. Casey looked at him questioningly, but he ignored it and went straight for the bathroom. Again, Casey couldn't help but notice how good he smelled when he came out. She felt her cheeks get hot, suddenly embarrassed to look so sick and uncoordinated in front of him when he was all dressed up. But why?! This was her brother. Why should she care what she looks like in front of him?
"Your hair looks nice curly. I'm going out." Derek said. By the time he finished that second sentence, he was already halfway out the door. Casey could hear it slam not half a second later, sending a rush of pain to her head.
As soon as she found herself alone, Casey's mind started buzzing with questions. Why was Derek being so nice? Why did he compliment her hair, even when she was lying in bed with a huge hangover? And most importantly, why could she still pick the smell of his cologne out of the air? The whole day felt surreal, and not only because Casey could barely remember the night before and she'd never had a hangover before. Things had a strange edge to them that made them unreal, somehow. For example, Derek never gave a crap about her or her hair, and that morning he seemed to have gone out of his way to make her feel better. Maybe it was just the headache that made things seem more significant than they were, but for some reason, something was different. The whole day had been so weird that all Casey wanted to do was sleep. She turned off the television and gingerly laid herself down on her pillow. She closed her eyes and tried to turn off her brain, but Your hair looks nice curly kept running through her head. She couldn't help but feel like he was messing with her, trying to get her to explode or something.
Frustrated, Casey threw her covers away from her and ignored her head and started pacing with violent speed and determination. She wanted Derek to come home already. Why she wanted that for the first time in her life, she didn't know, but for some reason it felt like having him home would make her feel better. Actually, what she really wanted was him the way he was before. The new, nicer Derek was creeping her out. At least before, there was a consistency to their relationship, and Casey loved consistency and order. After about ten minutes, her head hurt too much to keep walking, so she lay back down.
She stayed in bed, in the dark, unable to sleep for perhaps another hour before the door opened. Casey sat up in bed and turned toward the door expectantly, silently begging for him to not have another drunk, blond girl on his arm. Thankfully, though, he was alone, and seemed to still be in the same state he was in when he left. He caught her eye through the darkness and started at her. Suddenly, Casey realized that she was sitting in the dark and looking at him as though she was waiting for him to come home for hours. Without saying anything, she lay back down, facing away from the door and toward Derek's bed. Derek went into the bathroom and changed into pajamas. Ten minutes later, he was in his own bed, turned away from Casey. She found herself looking at his silhouette under the covers. She also kept thinking about the girl from the bar called Michelle, and the more she stared at Derek and thought about that Michelle, the angrier she found herself becoming.
"So." She finally said curtly. "No 'Michelle's tonight?"
Derek rolled over to face her. "Shut the fuck up, Casey."
"What?" Casey said defensively.
"Casey, I'm telling you. Shut up." He sounded serious.
Casey was starting to get concerned. "You okay?" she asked tentatively.
Derek just scoffed and rolled back away from her. And so they eventually fell asleep, Casey feeling guilty and Derek seeming terrible annoyed and angry.
