AN: Thank you so much for the reviews. I'm sorry I am slow in updating and answering, BUT I have vacation (A staycation at my house!) next week, and I am going to catch completely up...and update more! Whoo hoo! In the meantime, this is a huge chapter; I hope that makes up for some of the wait...


Chapter 9

"What's the matter with you lately?" Emily asked, looking up from Into the Mind by David Rossi when Penelope entered the room. "You look like someone shot your puppy."

Penelope's already acidy stomach churned more. Although her heart was sore, she really didn't want to talk about what had happened—especially not with Prentiss, who didn't have the highest opinion of jocks.

But mostly, she didn't want to talk about what had happened, because it was too painful to remember.

Derek had begun to mean so much to her, and knowing she'd caused dissidence and strife in his house had broken her heart. Five minutes after the fight, he'd tried to talk to her, but it had been too late. Her house was closed, and she was sequestered in for the night. It was okay with Penelope—she'd been too shaken to talk...and the next day, she'd had too much time to think.

She didn't belong with him.

Derek was a good man, a truly kind, wonderful person. He'd suffered enough in his life; he didn't need issues with his housemates. Truth be told, she didn't belong at Gamma Phi. After what Carlson had said, she'd felt awkward and unwelcome. Derek could continue"forcing" her down other people's throats, but would only be a matter of time before someone snapped again.

The snapping wouldn't bother her. She could've begged Derek to let those things slide—she would've let it slide—but she knew him. He was far too noble to let her name be mud. Derek would fight all comers for her, regardless of what it cost him. So, she had no choice. She had to be the noble one. She needed to break off this budding friendship before she caused irreparable damage.

For an entire week, she'd avoided him like the plague. He'd waited outside her art class, and luckily for her, the horny girls in her class had swamped him—after his modeling stunt, no one had forgotten who he was—and she'd been able to sneak out. He'd waited on his front step for her, left messages, and called.

He'd even been by the picnic tables late at night.

She sighed miserably and hopelessly. Truly, it was better this way, to cut ties with him and his friendship. Her heart was half gone already; she could fall in love with him so easily. There was so much to love about Derek Morgan. He was honorable, kind, looked out for underdogs like herself, and was so sexy, it was lethal. With him, she felt like the only girl in the world. He mentioned often that she was his best girl, his sweet little friend, and mostly, his one and only Baby Girl.

That being said, he also dated multiple girls on a regular basis, at least four or five. He was never without a date on a Friday, Saturday, or any other night he chose—unless he wasn't in the mood. Black, white, redhead, of Asian persuasion...it didn't matter. Being young and filled with testosterone, he was almost always in the mood.

Except when it came to her...the "infinitely unfuckable."

Wincing, Penelope ignored Prentiss and climbed up into her top bunk. She knew better to wish for anything like that with Derek. He could have anyone; why would he ever go for a plain Jane virgin?

Besides, it was never going to happen. Yesterday, Derek had finally gotten the message and had given up coming by. She tried to smile. It was definitely better this way, before she had her heart broken to the point of no return. Better to have this dull ache of stupidity over unrequited love for a man way the hell out of her league.

She rolled to her side and gasped as she came nose to nose with Emily. She'd stood up and was on level with the bunk.

"I'm a good ear, Garcia," she said flatly, but there was a lack of sarcasm in her expression, something rare for Prentiss. Even her eyes were warm and spoke of compassion. "What happened between you and Derek?"

"Nothing," she muttered, moving to a seated position. "It's...nothing."

Prentiss arched a brow.

Penelope sighed. "Nothing I want to talk about."

Her roommate sighed even louder. "Hey, this isn't easy for me to admit," Emily grumbled, looking away for a second before bringing her gaze back to Penelope, "but I think I was wrong about Morgan. I think he really cares about you."

"I know he does," Penelope said softly. "I care about him, too."

Prentiss tossed up her hands. "Then why are you shoving him away? Even I feel bad for him, walking away with his gorgeous tail tucked between his legs night after night. I mean—"

"Garcia! You have a visitor!" someone called from downstairs, interrupting Emily.

"See?" Emily said, shaking her head. "There he is again."

Penelope's heart skipped a beat just as panic rose in her chest. "You don't understand. It's for his own good."

"Good? He looks miserable."

"I know," she whined, "but—hey!"

Prentiss gave her a rough tug so that she slid off the bunk and landed on her feet. "Go see him. Now."

"Em..."

"Now, PG," Prentiss snapped, shoving her out the door and then shutting it quickly. A second later, Penelope heard the unmistakable sound of the door locking.

A wash of nerves rolled over her. She hadn't seen Derek in forever, and she didn't know if she could face him. Her resolve, in the face of those fantastic brown eyes, always melted and disappeared. Derek could get her to do anything, go anywhere, be anything. He gave her wings, helped her fly, and was there to catch her if she faltered.

He was her hero...so just once, she needed to be his.

Swallowing hard, she turned the corner and was surprised to see Mark Brown standing in her foyer, not Derek.

"Mark," she said, descending the staircase. "What are you doing here?"

She noticed how nervous he looked there. Usually, in the frat house surrounded by his guys, he looked charming and at ease. Here seemed to be a wholly different story.

Mark, with his blond hair and blue eyes, did to light good looks the same thing that Derek did to dark. Suddenly, multiple girls came out of the woodwork to giggle and chatter about him. Unlike Derek, Brown didn't have quite the same confidence level that Morgan had to pull it off with aplomb. However, he was just a freshman back-up quarterback, not a junior varsity star like Derek.

He shot her a shy smile, blushing slightly as he did so. "Ah...hi, Penelope. How are you?"

"I'm okay." She glanced around the room and saw how the ladies were staring and how Mark was trying to look straight forward at her to avoid them. He'd been so kind and welcoming to her, she wanted to return the favor. "Would you like to go to the sitting room?"

Mark beamed. "I'd love that."

The two of them entered the sitting room, and she closed the doors enough that the girls would have to stack up to peer in. Mark took a seat, and Penelope sat next to him.

"I take it Derek sent you?" she asked. It was really more of a statement than a question; she was pretty sure she knew the answer to that.

"Actually, no," he said, surprising her. "I came here on my own accord. But," he added pointedly, "Morgan has been pretty damn miserable to be around the last week."

She blushed and hung her head. "I'm sorry."

Mark shrugged. "No reason to be sorry. That's between you two."

"Thanks," she mumbled gratefully.

"We're having a party tomorrow."

She chuckled. "Didn't you just have one two weeks ago?"

"Nope. After the fight, our frat superiors said we needed a cool-off period," Mark explained. "So we couldn't have that party."

Penelope winced. Yet another punishment she'd unwittingly dolled onto Derek.

"But I'm here for another reason." He turned so that he was facing her head on. "Penelope, I'd like to know if you'd be my date for the party tomorrow night?"

Penelope blinked. "Wow."

"I've gotten to talk to you a few times at the house when you were helping Morgan, and you seem like a really nice, sweet girl. Not like the ones that are usually around the house, and not like Alice, my ex—"

As Mark continued talking, Penelope realized how grateful she was for that. Alice had been a grade-A bitch the few times she'd had the misfortune of dealing with her over at Gamma Phi.

"—and I would really like you to go with me," he continued, that same hopeful smile on his face.

Penelope smiled, but shook her head. "Mark, thank you, but no. I don't belong there."

"Why do you think that?" he asked.

"Last time I was at your house, Gary Carlson and Derek nearly sent each other to the hospital!"

He waved a hand in dismissal. "That happens all the time there, Penelope."

Her heart clenched. How badly she wanted to say yes, even if just to see Derek again, but she knew the reason for the fight. "Mark, you heard them, what they were fighting about. I don't belong."

"Listen," he said softly. "Not everyone agrees with Carlson. Some do, but they're unimportant. Just...come with me. Please. Don't let someone like Gary keep you from having fun and from being with your friends."

She let that register, and her heart began to lift. God, she'd been a fool. She wasn't being a hero. She was letting her own cowardice, her fear of falling in love with Derek, ruin their friendship. She was being so unfair. It wasn't his fault that he wasn't falling in love with her, too.

As she was wobbling in her decision, Mark continued.

"I know it would mean a lot to Derek," he added, meeting her eyes. "He misses you, Penelope."

Penelope felt her heart swell, and before her mind could warn her off, she said, "I'll go."


Derek was going out of his mind. He missed his buddy. She was special to him; he loved to protect and care for her. She made him smile and laugh, and she was a great conversationalist. He had more fun with her than he did with the countless women he dated. He needed her. God in heaven, he needed her far more than he needed the ego boost and nameless sex he got from all of the other women combined.

How in the hell had that happened over a few month time span?

Derek knew he was looking desperate. Day after day, he'd shown up at Penelope's classes, her house, everywhere he could possibly find her besides the ladies' toilet, and he never got a chance to see her.

The very last time, he'd even stopped by her house with a meatless pizza. That hadn't gone so well...

"Whom do you need to speak with?" Penelope's housemother, a stern, older blonde, asked. It was amazing she would even need to ask; Derek came asking for Penelope nearly every day.

Always Penelope. Only Penelope.

"Hi, Mrs. Strauss. I am here for Penelope," he answered politely. "Is she in?"

Erin looked down her nose at him. "I am sorry. Penelope asked not to be disturbed."

Derek didn't bother to hide his crestfallen look. He was devastated, and the world could tell as far as he was concerned. "Oh...okay."

Erin was about to shut the door, when Derek put his foot in between to prevent her.

Mrs. Strauss gave him a haughty, icy look. "Mr. Morgan—"

"Listen," Derek pleaded. "Please, just listen a second."

Strauss sighed heavily, and then a flash of compassion rolled over her cool feature. She nodded. "Go ahead."

"Can you tell her that Friday night, there's a get-together at my place? I'd really love to see her."

Her lips clamped into a thin line. "Housemothers cannot take party invitations for our pledges. It's strictly against policy."

"Please," he begged. "Just once."

"I'll tell her," Strauss replied, and from her dismissive tone, he knew she wasn't going to tell Penelope a fucking word he'd said. "Please remove your foot."

That night, and every night before, Derek returned home, dejected and crestfallen. Derek had tried everything he could think of to show he cared, but she seemed not to care in return. He couldn't believe that. He couldn't. They'd shared so much—he'd talked to her about their pasts and futures—and one thing he knew about Penelope was that she was caring and kind and loving.

And he couldn't get over how right she'd felt in his arms by the campfire.

Damn. He knew he needed to get over her. The girl had showed him in the past week that she wanted nothing to do with him, not even friendship anymore. Facing facts, he realized sadly that maybe she just didn't need him like he needed her?

His heart crushed in his chest as he thought about that.

Grumbling, he held the luscious, voluptuous redhead he was dancing with in his arms and tried to ignore what his heart was telling him, loud and clear...

Somehow, he'd fallen in love with someone he'd never even kissed.

Swaying, he buried his face in the girl's copper curls, trying to focus. This woman was a dynamo in bed, an easy gymnast with matching copper curls between her legs, who was available anytime he snapped his fingers. She'd be a great distraction, fun and exciting.

But as he held her, the scent of expensive, powdery perfume and hairspray came wafting upward to his nose. It was nothing like Penelope's fresh peach and honey scent. He missed that scent, so clean and light and honest. This woman smelled dark and musky, filled with artifice. He didn't like it. Damn it, he didn't like her. Not like...

Fuck.

He was a goner. He'd even begged for her. He'd never begged for a woman before in his life. Not once. Not ever.

The party lost all of its charm, deflating in Derek's mind like a popped balloon. It was time to call it a night and send this poor girl off to someone more deserving. Maybe one of his luckier teammates could show her a good time?

"Trina," he said, raising his head.

"Thalia," she purred in reply, smiling up at him with a come-hither look.

He blushed, but only for a second. If she didn't care that he screwed up her name, why should he? "Listen, I'm..."

He paused, his heart catching in his throat as something drew his gaze.

Like a ray of light, Penelope walked through his door...

On another man's arm.