Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! :)
Chapter 7
"Derek, have you seen my laundry?" Casey called from her bedroom. "I had just folded it, and left it on my bed!"
"Try checking the hallway!" he called back from the kitchen.
"…What?" Casey cried, darting out of her room and flinging open the door to the apartment. Various pieces of clothing lay sprawled haphazardly from one end of the hallway to the other. "Oh my God, Derek! What did you do?"
He snickered, and she spun around to see him chugging orange juice from the gallon. "What's with you?" she snapped. It had been almost a week since the kiss he'd given her in the middle of the night after he'd broken up with Sheila. Since then he'd started acting just like the boy he'd been when they were in high school. She figured he was pissed at her, but that was his problem.
"Look, Derek, why don't you just act mature about this? I'll—I'll kick you out if you don't stop!" Even to her ears, the statement didn't sound too threatening. They both knew that she wouldn't do that to him, although she could pretend that she would.
"This orange juice is delicious. Would you like some?"
Casey sighed. "Derek, you signed the contract that you wouldn't drink directly out of any of the beverage containers. It's one of the rules."
"You know, Case, I was thinking of joining you and your friends tonight at Hooligan's Bar."
"What? No way. We've been through this before." Casey's friend, Klara, was turning 28 tonight, and had invited Casey and several of their friends out to the local bar to celebrate. Derek had heard the invite on the answering machine and kept insisting that he was going to join them.
"Hmmm, you know, I think I better get ready, it's almost 5 o'clock. It takes time to look this good."
Casey glowered at him, but didn't say anything. If he insisted on going, she'd just ignore him. No problem there. She was almost 28 herself, and with age came maturity. He may have been able to get under her skin when she was 18, but she had grown a lot in the last ten years. It wouldn't be a problem.
At least, she hoped not.
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Casey arrived at the bar alone. She'd left a bit early so that she could sneak out without Derek climbing into the passenger's seat beside her. It seemed to have worked. The bar was packed with people, buzzing with excitement and the sexual tension that accompanied any situation that involved alcohol. She could relate to that….
Casey quickly dispelled any images of seducing a certain handsome stepbrother while partially inebriated, and straightened her blue shirt. Her shirt was a simple swoop-neck, and she'd put on nice dark jeans and short heels. She'd chosen her outfit carefully, hoping to appear presentable but respectable.
Making her way to the bar, she noticed that most of her friends had already arrived. They motioned her to the booth they were sitting at.
"Hi, girls! It's great to see—" She stopped abruptly, her jaw dropping. Her stepbrother was sitting in the middle of her group of friends. And he looked amazing. He'd styled his hair back, allowing the full force of his eyes to capture her gaze and hold it. He'd chosen form-fitting black jeans that accented all the right places, and a button-up plaid shirt that seemed like it was meant for him. He had foregone shaving that morning, and the stubble on his jaw gave his face a devil-may-care masculinity. Casey just stared at him, unable to pull her eyes away.
"This is Derek," Klara giggled. "We found him sitting at the bar, and he ordered us all a shot of tequila. There's one for you if you want."
Casey started to refuse it, but then reconsidered. Hell, but she needed it after seeing Derek in this state. As she felt the liquid warm its way down her chest and into her stomach, Casey for the millionth time tried not to remember the last time she'd drunk too much… and what had happened.
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He couldn't take his eyes off of her. God, but she looked amazing. She'd styled her hair in its glossy, natural waves, and had put just enough make-up on to look seductive. And her clothes… they were classy, but snug in all the right places.
Sure, she refused to meet his eyes. Sure, she wasn't drinking much after that first shot. It made sense. He'd only had a beer himself, since he was driving and because he didn't want to lose control around her… not after she'd rejected him so badly. But just being near her was enough to cloud his senses, to send shivers down his back and raise goose-bumps on his arms. Casey was the most beautiful girl in the bar, the prettiest in the world for all he knew.
"…and then I told him that it was actually a chicken, not a rooster!" Casey's friend, Klara, giggled into his neck. He smiled down at her and pretended to find this statement hilarious, even though he hadn't heard a thing she'd said. "I'm so glad you invited your stepbrother, Casey," Klara slurred, "he's soooo funny and sexy."
Casey said nothing, but Derek saw her eyes flash at him like this was all his fault. He would never understand her. One day she said that they could never be together, and then when he tried to move on she started acting odd… almost like she was jealous or something. And maybe she was attracted to him (God only knew he found her incredibly hot), but it wasn't fair for him to string him along this way.
"Derek only wishes he was as funny and as sexy as he thinks he is," groaned Casey under her breath, but loud enough that he caught it. Unable to suppress a grin, Derek knew that this was getting to her. And he loved it.
"You have such a nice smile," Klara cooed into his ear, her fingers brushing his thigh. The feeling sent a shiver up his spine, but only because he remember the last person who had done this. And she was sitting a few feet away, glaring at him and huffing with annoyance.
"You have a pretty nice smile yourself," Derek flirted back. Klara was a pretty girl, with sleek, dark hair and almond shaped eyes. He didn't deny it. Besides, it was fun to flirt with her. Especially in front of Casey.
Klara jumped up, caught Derek's hand and tugged at him, purring, "Come with me, it's my birthday, you have to do what I say!"
A few weeks ago Derek would have been drooling over himself to go to bed with a girl as hot as Klara. He didn't know what was wrong with him now.
Scratch that. He knew exactly what was wrong. And she was ruining his fun.
He got up, gave Klara his most smoldering smile, and followed her to wherever she wanted to take him. As she led him out of the bar, he glanced back at Casey. She was staring—no, glaring—at him, eyes narrowed and arms crossed over her chest. He flashed her his trademark smirk, and disappeared out the door.
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"Casey, you're so quiet. Why aren't you happy? You want me to get you a drink?" one of Casey's friends, Leslie, whined.
"No, no. I'm fine. I'm just feeling a little… queasy… is all." It wasn't far from the truth. As soon as Derek had disappeared from the bar with Klara, Casey had felt like puking. That, or hitting something. Preferably Derek.
She knew she was being irrational, that she should be glad that he was back to his usual self instead of trying to kiss her. But she couldn't help feeling furious at him for messing with her emotions like this. It wasn't fair that he could be so cavalier with life (and women), while she felt so ornery. But Casey had long ago learned that life wasn't fair when it came to Derek Venturi.
"Case, why don't I get you some water?" Leslie queried, looking concerned despite being inebriated.
Casey sighed. "Sure. Thanks, Leslie."
As her friend went to retrieve her a glass of water from the bar, one of Klara's friends who Casey didn't know very well turned to her. "Hey, are you ok?"
Feeling taken aback, all Casey could do was blink for a moment. "Oh, I'm fine." She tried to remember the girl's name. She thought it was Rachael.
"It's just that you looked really upset when you saw that guy was at our table. Derek, right?"
"Yeah," Casey swallowed, trying to rid her throat of the sudden pain that had appeared there. She worried that she might start crying. "He's my stepbrother. We used to fight all the time. His dad married my mom when we were 15."
"He kept staring at you." The girl looked at Casey, really examined her. "I think you're in love with each other, but something is keeping you apart."
Who was this girl to make such accusations (for surely, that's what it was) to someone she barely knew? "I'm sorry, but what gives you the right to say something like that?" Casey found herself becoming even angrier. Of course they weren't in love with each other. Attracted, sure. They probably even had feelings for each other. But not love.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to step out of bounds or anything," Rachael apologized, picking at the lemon in her drink. "It's just that he seemed to be trying to make you jealous, and you seemed, well, jealous."
"You mean of Klara?" When Rachael nodded, Casey scoffed. "It's her birthday; I want her to be happy. Even if she has to go drunkenly sleep with my stepbrother like some slutty dumbass." Casey gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth. Had she really just said that? "I mean, I don't think she's a dumbass, or slutty, or—"
But Rachael just smiled, like she understood. "It's a perfectly rational thought for someone who's watching her friend leave with the man she loves."
All Casey could do was stare at her glass. She thought about what Rachael had said. Rachael… who seemed very insightful and observant. She rather liked the girl who was kind enough to make Casey feel better when she felt like she was dragging the party down. She opened her mouth to reply when Leslie returned, a tall man at her elbow.
"Lookie! I found you a present," she giggled.
The man looked like he was in his mid-thirties, and had the appearance of someone who was desperate and slimy. Casey fought back the disgust that threatened to curl her lip. Leslie was just trying to be kind, she couldn't help it if she was too drunk off her ass to realize that she was just making a bad situation worse.
"I think Casey was just mentioning that she wanted to go home," Rachael cut in before the man could say some cheesy pick-up line. Casey shot Rachael a look of gratitude, bid the group goodbye, and headed for the door.
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It was well after midnight when Derek got back. The apartment was dark, and he wondered if Casey was asleep. He'd seen her car in the lot, so he knew she was here.
He snuck into the bathroom, flipped on the light, and grabbed his toothbrush. As he brushed his teeth, he couldn't help feeling like he was brushing the acidic, drunken taste of Klara out of his mouth. He couldn't remember why he had liked going home with girls before.
As he spit out his toothpaste, he heard Casey's door open. "Goody," he muttered to himself, knowing that she would probably berate him for his womanizing ways. He wiped his mouth and opened the door.
"You're back early," she said, an eyebrow raised. He knew she was dying to know what had happened with him and her friend.
"Klara no longer had a use for me," he replied, "so I left."
He waited, putting his toothbrush away, but Casey didn't say anything. He brushed past her to his bedroom, thinking it odd that she'd just stood there. It was more than odd, it was unnerving, and he didn't like it.
But she followed him into his bedroom. Moonlight filtered in through his window, so Derek hadn't bothered turning the light on. Casey didn't either. Again, he thought to himself, she was behaving really bizarrely.
"Why do you have so little respect for yourself, Der?" she asked, her tone accusing.
Derek spun on his heel and stared at her slack-jawed. "Excuse me," he snapped, "but what?"
"You never tried to get good grades in school. You drank too much in college. And you've slept with so many girls. You have absolutely no respect for yourself."
"I got bad grades because I was an idiot. The same reason I got drunk more than I probably should have. I've learned from my mistakes."
"Not all of them," Casey whispered, taking a step toward him. Derek knew what she meant, what she was assuming and implying.
"Yes, I have. All of them." Derek found her staring up at him, the silver moonlight glinting off her big blue eyes. The sight made him catch his breath.
"You just don't get it, Derek," Casey snapped, "You think that you can just sleep with any woman! That all women are just at your beck and call!" She broke off. "You—you're just a big meanie!"
Derek just stared at her. Then he burst out laughing. "Did you really," he said between chuckles, "just call me a 'meanie'?"
"I'm serious!" Casey cried, although a small smile had snuck onto her face.
"Yeah, but… how can I take you seriously when you're talking like a seven-year-old?"
Casey was laughing now, and although she swatted his shoulder it was in a friendly manner. "Fine, fine. I suppose my credibility was shot as soon as I said that."
Derek chuckled. "You could never lose your credibility, Casey. You're too much of a keener." He mused, "You're just too damn smart!"
At this statement, Casey smiled. "You know, I think that's the first time you've called me smart."
"What?" Derek placed a hand on his chest in mock surprise. "I call you smart all the time!"
But Casey shook her head, the smile still teasing at the corner of her lips. "No, you call me 'keener'. It's more of an insult."
"You always knew what I meant."
"Well, I certainly do now," Casey assented, and she placed her hand on his cheek for a moment to show him her gratitude. "And… thanks, D."
As Casey's hand started to slip from his skin, Derek reached up and grabbed it in his hands. He stared down at her, mesmerized by the way the moonlight streaked her hair silver, how her eyelashes cast small shadows on her cheek, how her lips had parted in surprise—eagerness—confusion—he didn't know which. All he knew was that he loved her. His keener stepsister. The girl who had made his teenage youth one annoying hell of a ride, and had continued to plague him throughout their older years with the honest concern and care she bestowed on him. This was the only woman he had ever loved.
"Derek, we can't—" But Derek put a finger on his lips.
"I didn't sleep with Klara."
This stopped her in her tracks. Her eyes grew huge, the blue shimmering before him and trapping him in her gaze. He heard her slight intake of breath, saw her lift her hand, felt her fingers curl in his hair. It was all he could do to stay still, to let her make the decision, take the first step. He wanted to close the gap between them, completely and forever, but he waited.
"I—I—" she didn't seem to know what to say, and all the while her mouth was drawing closer to his own, her lips parting even more, her eyes closing.
Derek felt his own eyes start to flutter closed as he felt her breath on his skin, smelling of mint and chocolate and caramel. His hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her against him.
And then Casey's cell phone rang. Derek thought he recognized the special ring tone.
It was the same one that played when Tom called her.
A/N: Muah ha ha. A cliffhanger ending. Hehehe. Don't worry, I will be updating soon! :)
