Wanting Casey Chapter 21: Hallelujah, a life with derek fanfic

You may ignore the paragraphs below if you wish and skip right to the action because it's a helluva chapter. Really. Wisely, I've decided to say very little about it, only that it is action-packed and hopefully will surprise you. And probably quite long. And that I've been waiting to write this chapter FOREVER, and one of the characters was originally supposed to be a lot more evil, so it would be all Cruel Intentions-y. It's not quite as dark and twisted as I wanted it. But eh, maybe next chapter... Hmm, and it's supposed to be a little under a week away from last chapter. Or something to that effect. My timeline here may be rather off, but remember that this is probably mid-to-late January, although more along the lines of LATE January. Or at least later. Coincidentally, and I so did not know this when I was writing the fic, but Michael Seater's real birthday IS actually in January. Weird, eh? And I did research the hockey stuff, just so people don't think I'm making up the references. It's my new favorite sport, although I hate most sports. Lol. Oh, and some parts, specifically the end and the beginning get a little risqué. Just warning ya. Oh, and don't expect a happy ending...

Now, more cheerful things... Okay, so I feel the need to say that Sixteen Sparkplugs was, quite possibly, the cutest episode ever. I say this because I finally turned on the Disney channel at four in the afternoon on a Monday. Seriously, is it just me or is that the worst time slot ever? I'm likely to watch it at just about every other time than 4 on a Monday (I say this because I happen to live in the Central Time Zone, which is rather annoying, since everything's in Eastern, like the middle of the country doesn't even matter... although I guess it beats Mountain time), excepting during the school day. I mean, early A.M. Hours... fine. Weeknights, fine. Weekends, generally fine all over. But after school, not so much. Aww. And Michael Seater was beyond cute the whole episode. His bangs were totally great. Ah. It's my new favorite. And Casey was even nice to him!

And wow, Emily is getting much cuter clothes. Seriously, who knew Casey wanted to go into med school? Ooh, and I like Nora's hair again. It's growing out a little and it looks nice. But, seriously, how dumb do you have to be to misspell your stepsibling's last name? Marti's like, what, six/seven, and she can manage it! Lmao, textual harassment. Psh, why does Max get all the credit? For admitting he stole wrong answers? That doesn't really make him a good guy. It's not like he had much to lose by admitting that. And, plus, how tacky is that, cheating off your girlfriend's answers? I hate him. I mean, really, that doesn't make him any better than Derek. Besides, Derek at least tried to help Casey, despite the fact that it got her in more trouble. Max did nothing to help her, really. And he made a point to mention that the answers he stole from Casey were wrong, but if he knew that, why didn't he just get off his lazy ass and do them himself? Plus, come on, what kind of teacher wouldn't notice the fact that Casey's name was spelled wrong? I mean, even if you're a math teacher, I'm pretty sure most teachers can recognize a student's work by their handwriting. Generally you can tell if the person who's writing is a boy or a girl. And I mean anyone, not just graphologists or whatever.

And now just on to the story. Hopefully you'll like this chapter, although I have a strong feeling I'll be getting hate-mail. ;) Anyways, reviews are appreciated, and if you haven't read the previous chapter already, you ought to, because it helps explain a lot of the context for this chapter. Anyways, enjoy!

"Is that any way to treat your new stepbrother?"

So, I had a pretty sweet wake-up call this morning. Okay, so it was approximately the crack of dawn, but still... I mean, what else could I expect? It's not like Casey can sneak in my room at seven in the morning without anyone noticing.

I woke up at five-something, when Casey crawled under my covers. She wound her arms around my neck, pressing her lips roughly against mine. I was up in less than two seconds. When my lovely stepsister had to move back for air, I smiled. "I could get used to waking up like this," I muttered. Casey grinned and kissed me back, sliding her fingers up under my t-shirt. She was wearing her pajamas, though, and they happened to be just about the least sexy clothing ever. Pink flannel with a whimsical print? Comfortable, maybe, but hardly attractive. I trailed kisses down her neck as I started unbuttoning her shirt.

It came undone easily, and Casey reared back and practically threw it off to rejoin me back underneath the covers. I put my hands on the bare skin. It felt so smooth, so soft. She grabbed me forcibly by the collar, pulling me on top of her. She locked her arms behind my neck and kissed me deeper and deeper. Casey moaned softly and pulled my shirt over my head, haphazardly chucking it on the ground. It felt good. Damn good. Her fingernails dug into my lower back, but I didn't mind. I sighed raggedly and brought her closer, closer to me. Oh, god, how I wanted her. I hooked my fingers into her waistband, tugging at the pajama bottoms, seeking to rid her of them.

Casey licked her lips and adjusted her hips, and I could've sworn my eyes rolled back into my head. I couldn't take it anymore, so I ripped off her remaining clothes. I could feel Casey's heart beating faster and faster. She helped me out of my clothes, grabbing at my skin greedily, sliding right up against my side. Once again I found her straddling me. I wrapped my arms around her back, pulling her back down to me. My wet lips slipped down her cheek, over her jawbone, and down her neck. I used more pressure than usual this time, wanting to leave my mark. I wanted to brand her, to let everyone know that she was taken, even if I couldn't say it was by me.

I accidentally nipped her neck a little too hard, and Casey moved away from me just a little bit. I adjusted the sheets behind her so that they would cover her back. She was particular about things like that. She wouldn't move closer to me, but then she rocked her hips against mine, and that was more than enough for me.

She left, sweaty, at around six-thirty with messy hair, looking generally very disheveled (and flushed). Her clothes were backwards and buttoned wrong, and she'd lost her underwear somewhere in the chaos of my room. Nevertheless, she was beaming and radiant as she pressed one last kiss to my lips before tiptoeing out. I was equally pleased. But damn it if she didn't beat me to the shower. Gotta wash away the evidence, I guess. Casey should know by now that I'm not that stupid. For a moment, I just laid there, enjoying it. I could've snuck into the bathroom, like I wanted, but Casey needs her alone time.

We had this little talk about a day or two after she said yes to being my girlfriend about her "boundaries". And she mentioned her need for "time away from Derek" occasionally, because she wouldn't want an overload of me. Naturally, I pointed out that I half-consumed her life already before I'd even slept with her, much less even started going after her. Clearly the girl has no saturation point, but I give her the requested alone time. Her other main rule is no sex in the shower... or bathroom in general. Oh, and my car because it's old, smelly, and kind of cramped. Not that I blame her for that. Any part of the bathroom is off-limits because she deems it "unsanitary". Something about bacteria and our family having to use it too. So I don't get to just pop in on her, which kind of annoys me sometimes since I've had that fantasy for as long as I can remember.

The bathroom is... We've got history there. It just seems wrong to not be able to have sex with her all over the place in there, especially since it's the place where I first discovered that I wanted to have sex with her (when we were locked alone together in it, fighting during the party, for the record). I brushed it off then as hormones and a residual effect of the vodka someone had slipped into my soda. I can't even count the amount of times I've come on to her in there.

But I was still too stunned to move, even if I really wanted to. Casey had never, ever, ever done anything like that before. Sure, I'd had sex with her, but never in my own room, much less my own bed early in the morning. We usually had sex late at night when everyone else was sleeping. I would sneak past Lizzie's door and into Casey's room, lock the door, and emerge a few hours later with a wide smile on my face. And, if we were all alone, one of us would usually jump the other one the first place that was available... just as long as it wasn't the bathroom. The couch, the stairs, the counter, the dining room table, my recliner, up against the wall, the front door (obviously the side not on the porch), on top of the washing machine, one time even on the stairs. Man, that was a good time. My back still hurts from that. Nice angle, though.

Eventually though, I had to get up. I got up about thirty minutes after Casey left. No use lying around when I couldn't sleep (I was on too much of a high for that). I couldn't sit there marinating in my own juices any longer. That's another thing Casey's very fastidious about. She changes her sheets every time we have sex, so I've come to know every single set of sheets she has rather intimately. I bought her two new sets of sheets for our two-week anniversary. And no, that does not make me a sap! I just want the best. Her mother doesn't seem to notice her washing (and starching) sheets in the middle of the night. Unbelievably, Casey's also made me help and actually do my chores.

So I threw on some clothes and went to the shower to clean off. I got dressed shortly afterwards and "accidentally" ran into Casey in the hall. In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have pulled her into a liplock right there, where any of our siblings could've walked in. Lifting her up in the air, although incredibly romantic, was probably also not a wise idea. But hell, if I wasted my life thinking about what's wise and what's prudent, I wouldn't get anything done. I'd be... I dunno... Edwin or something, and how tragic would that be?

She pushed me away after a very breathless five minutes, smiling nervously and straightening her clothing. "De-rek! Now I have to go redo my lipgloss!" Casey hissed. My name coming off her lips like that was music to my ears. I rolled my eyes, knowing full well that she wasn't really mad at me. I reflexively wiped my own lips, and Casey headed into the bathroom. I checked out her choice in wardrobe. Black, tight-fitting sweater, a white, lacy camisole, red tights, plaid, pleated miniskirt, knee-high leather boots. Oh, yeah, I was one lucky guy.

Being the loving boyfriend I am, I waited out in the hallway for two minutes like a total idiot. She emerged moments later, smelling of the perfume I bought her for Christmas. I don't remember what it's called... Obsession or Poison or Addict or something dark like that. She also had on a new coat of extra-glossy lipstick, but I didn't really see the point. I mean, she was only going to eat in a few minutes at any rate, right? Casey walked briskly downstairs, and I followed her attentively. My definition of being a gentleman is not shoving her out of the way for food and allowing her to eat my cereal. If all these damn people didn't also live here, I'd share.

Ed and Lizzie came down after a while, and I looked up long enough from my eggs to notice that they seemed especially chummy. Luckily Casey didn't notice. She was busy doing some extra-credit work I'd kept her from doing. Super-keener... though I bet she'd agree that my diversion of choice was much, much, much more fun than her empty homework. Now, the kind of "work" we were doing won't get you any honors or extra points, unless it's for a class in, well, things they hopefully don't teach in school. I shot them a reproachful look, noticing that the idiots were holding hands. On the bright side, at least they weren't pulling dopey smiles at one another.

Seriously, though, those two need to learn a thing or two about discretion. Now, okay, Nora and Dad wouldn't notice it unless they walked in on the kids having sex. Before you call me a sicko, I seriously think that's what it would take. Our parents are the most oblivious couple of morons to ever walk this earth. For cryin' out loud, Dad got the year and date of Edwin's birth wrong! Besides... Pretty much everything else could be written off as friendly behavior, familial affection, or, in the event of something rather worrisome... experimentation. Actually, they might be happy to find out about me and Casey... if only because it means we would shut up sometimes.

Marti, well, she's too young to notice the difference. Casey, though... Casey's pretty sharp. She knew there was something going down and initially talked Lizzie out of it. The only reason she doesn't know now is because I take pains to get them out of the house, and I've got Casey so distracted she can only think about hiding the fact that I've been having sex with her for the past two weeks and five days. Wow. Nineteen days, and not a single real fight. Who would've ever thought that would happen? And jeez, counting? I sound like some pansy math geek.

Since my brother and his new paramour were so in a world of their own, I took it upon myself to deliver them with a warning. Or, rather, Edwin. That would obviously look less suspicious. Man, I am getting way too involved in helping them with their little relationship. It's sickening, and Derek Venturi does not matchmake. Though it does help serve my ends, and I'm not above using my brother to help me. Anyways, so I gestured to my brother and dragged him out of the kitchen. Literally, his and Lizzie's hands were practically glued together. Sickening, I tell you, this... puppy love. Bleck. I don't have the stomach for it.

So I pull the kid aside all scary-like, and Edwin's freaking terrified. But I don't give a crap about him and Lizzie, really. "Hey, idiot, do you think you could lay off on the PDA at the table? Casey's not blind. Some day will come when I won't be able to distract her, you know, and then she'll notice the way you're making goo-goo eyes at her sister. Then she'll notice Lizzie's returning them, and Casey's bound to put two and two together. Now, I think it's fairly safe to say Casey doesn't approve of you two dating, so you might want to be a bit more discreet," I advised shortly. I don't have much time to waste on this. After all, I've got to drive Casey to school. If I get there early, and the parking lot's completely deserted or somewhere else is free and clear, I get to make out with Casey.

I could seriously spend the rest of my life making out with that girl, so I don't have time to waste telling my little brother how to properly carry on a secret romantic relationship with his stepsister. The more I tell him, the more questions that will arise. Like, really, Derek? How are you distracting Casey exactly, complete with the suggestive tone. My kid bro's an inquisitive little hoser. Casey gave me a look before walking out the door. I was all too happy to oblige her. So then I ruffled his hair, grabbed my backpack, and damn near flew out of there.

Casey made sure I didn't speed by glowering at me whenever I went even a kilometer over the speed limit. Putting her hand on my knee would've been more effective, but it might've backfired. Plus it would've violated that whole no-action-in-the-car-rule of hers. We had time to spare. Enough time that we got there early and had a comfortable little time in the recycling room. Okay, so maybe we fell into the paper bin, but it makes a very comfortable couch or bed. We just made out, though. We weren't that early. Casey got kind of annoyed getting bits of shredded paper in her hair, and she made me clean up when the bin fell over. She left first, as was the custom. And then I had to clean up the damn place, so I wound up late to class. Not that I particularly cared.

Although Casey is in that particular class, and me showing up with slightly messy hair and lipstick all over my face raised a few questions. I'll skip the school crap because that's generally unimportant. Blah, blah, blah, work... Talking... I turned in my homework, in-class discussion... We had one later on Wuthering Heights. Some jackass was all, "Well, ew, they were raised together like brother and sister, so how were they attracted to each other?" Which, okay, that actually is a good point. It annoys me for the obvious reason, but Edwin told me something the other day about humans being predisposed to not be attracted to people they grow up with... like the first five years of life or whatever. Even if they're not physically related. So that whole brother-sister thing that shows up in Romantic literature is actually fairly disturbing. And cousins marrying, that too. It's all over those girly books Casey likes, albeit most of them don't actually marry said cousins. The creepy male cousins just want to marry them.

Again, ew. I have no hot cousins unless Vicky counts. My uncle the accountant sired a very ugly lot of girls. Pug faces and jowls like you wouldn't see on a human. I shudder to think of them, in fact. I was looking for Casey after class, but somehow she managed to elude me until lunch. She's been acting a little weird lately. I think something's up that she's not telling me. It's probably something with Max, the most painfully dimwitted jock of them all. Although, if he and his goons were harassing her again, I would definitely know about it. Why wouldn't she tell me something like that?

Unfortunately, Casey knew just as well as I did that I couldn't really talk to her about much of anything at lunch, especially since custom dictated that I sit down with Sam and Ralph and some of the other guys from the hockey team. Max has his own table of dweebs. A friend of mine interrupted the lunch conversation, addressing a question to me. "You know, Derek, I just noticed that you haven't bitched about Casey for weeks," He remarked interestedly. I glowered at him, not really liking that tone in his voice.

I faked a smile, looking at Sam. "Well, I knew Sammy was still hung up on her, and I didn't want to hurt him by reminding him about all of her unpleasant personality quirks," I commented dryly. The guys looked surprised at my fake consideration. Well, duh. Pretty much everyone knew I really hated the idea of Sam and Casey together. I grabbed my sandwich (roast beef, courtesy of Nora) and started in on it, taking a huge bite. I let my thoughts wander. Mm, that was some good meat.

Casey had sat with us before, but never when she'd been broken up with Sam. Maybe that was on purpose then... You think she's keeping something from me? Nah... I mean, I guess I could understand the need for secrets. Boundaries, Derek! That's what Casey would say, in a very exasperated tone, going on about how we've had this conversation a million times before and blah, blah, blah... I love the girl, but she talks ceaselessly.

I briefly debated inviting Emily to come over, but I decided it would only backfire in my face. She might think that I like her or something, which would be counterproductive, and either way, it'd raise unwanted questions. I stared moodily down at my meatloaf, poking it with my fork. At least, I hope this is meatloaf. I suddenly heard someone say my name, and my head shot up in the direction of the sound. It was this one friend of mine, David. C'mon, I'm the most popular guy in school. You think I don't have more friends than Sam and Ralph? Buncha winners they are. "Derek? Where were you, man?" He asked with a touch of concern.

Forcing a half-hearted smirk on my face, I just shrugged distractedly. I was zoning out and, heaven forbid, thinking! But obviously I can't say that. I've got a rep to uphold. "Thinking about how my dad's gonna kill me when he finds out I flunked that history test," I muttered vaguely. In reality I hadn't flunked anything, but it was very easy to believe given my record. David nodded sympathetically. It's so damn easy to lie. Some people will really believe anything. That being said, David is actually one of my smarter acquaintances.

Sam elbowed Ralph, grinning like the idiot he is. "He was probably thinking about his girlfriend," Sam drawled mockingly. I glowered at him irritably, although, admittedly, he was right. Pah, like I'm gonna tell him that! Especially since I'm dating his ex. Loser. Most of the guys started laughing. Ralph started laughing hysterically. You see, this is why I hate Sam. I don't like being made a laughingstock.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, get your own!" I retorted slightly viciously, feeling particularly annoyed. The grin fell off of Sam's face and those of the other guys. I felt slightly vindicated. But the other guys were giving me looks like I'd struck a blow to Sam or something. They were probably thinking of the Casey break-up. The details of said break-up were known to a select few, those few being myself, Casey, Sam, Trashy Cassy, and Dean. Dean doesn't go here, and no one would believe Trashy Cassy, who wouldn't tell anyone anyways. I guessed Sam had spread some crap that made him look a helluva lot better, maybe even blaming Casey for it. If he tried to blame her, I was going to deck him.

Sam held up his hands in a surrendering pose. Damn right. I'm in charge here, and don't you forget it! "Sorry, Derek," He muttered sarcastically. I rolled my eyes at him. Real sincere. Then Sam looked up, a mocking smile curling on his lips. Man, I hate this kid. "What, did the girlfriend shut you out? You pissed because you're not getting any, Dere?" Sam questioned jeeringly.

If Casey still didn't give a crap about him, I'd have decked him for that. But, you know, appearances. He has to say something really bad before I punch him. Still, I refuse to let any dumbass talk to me like that, especially not Sam! The other guys made lame ooh noises and crap because things were heating up in the argument. I fought to maintain my cool, and then achieved it by reminding myself that I'd screwed his girlfriend this very morning. And that was immensely satisfying. My smirk reappeared and widened. "Could you be any more jealous?" I countered coolly.

Seriously, could he? So I've got a girl. He doesn't have to make fun of me for having a ball and chain. Especially since I've consistently gotten more tail than him my entire life. He lives off doing my LEFTOVERS. Playing the concerned and condemning best friend, I bet. Sam the Saint who cleans up Derek's messes. Excuse me while I hurl. Sam actually looked a bit hurt, but like I cared? Some of the other guys gave me dirty looks, but I had a better glare that I shot them to keep them all in line. Ralph frowned. "You know, Derek, Casey just dumped him for another guy. You should be more considerate of Sam's feelings," He chastised.

First of all, she dumped him two weeks and six days ago BECAUSE of a guy. As in the one he was fooling around with. I couldn't believe his lies. They were even worse than some of mine. I also couldn't believe Ralph said that, and neither could anyone else. We all kinda gaped at him for a couple minutes. And then I found my voice before that wenis Sam could say anything. I felt the need to defend Casey. Now, I wanted to bring up Dean and all that, but there was really no point in humiliating him right now. Casey wouldn't like it, and it would embarrass the poor girl too. "First of all, she dumped him almost three weeks ago. He should be over it by now," I countered callously, shooting Sam a glance. I know Casey is, but Sam's always been an immature, whiny turd.

Sam gasped at me like some innocent, attacked little virgin. But I know better, and I don't buy it. This man screwed the nurse. Ew. Oh, sure, play the victim. I'll just expose your sorry ass anyways. I had the nasty feeling I'd have to say why they broke up, leaving out Dean, of course. I don't know if he's even come out at any rate. He probably has, but he completely doesn't deserve a reputation as a homewrecker slut. Nice guy, really. "You can't get over love!" Sam hissed, and the whole table went dead silent.

I made the mistake of taking a sip of my soda at that very moment, so I spit out soda pretty much right into his face in disbelief. What does he know about that? Ha! He just knows lust and sex. Asshole. And how to be a crappy boyfriend. "What the hell do you know about love, Sam? You cheated on her and treated her like crap your whole relationship!" I snapped venomously, finally losing my temper. I want to castrate the little lying bastard. He thinks he can lie to me, Lord of the Lies! Me! I know everything that happens in this school, and I damn well know everything that happens in my own household! Who's he think he's talking to here? Did he forget that I LIVE WITH HER?!

Some of the guys looked surprised, but I didn't really care what they thought. Sam's an asshole. Even Sam seemed surprised, the stupid dumbass. He rolled his eyes. "Like you know any more than I do," He muttered. Half-assed retort, there, first of all. Secondly, yeah, I do. I know more about loving Casey because I do. About a million times more than he does, at that! Naturally, I couldn't say any of that.

But that didn't mean I was silent. I shook my head. I was about to say that I at least treat people with common decency, but I wisely decided against it. And I treat girls like human beings, not toys for my own amusement. And I'm better in the sack. Sam acts so EOA when he has completely no right to. Actually, I take that back. Calling him EOA is more of an insult to the other people than Sam. Besides, they're probably less white-trashy. "Oh, yeah, I'm sure that's why she caught you fingering Trashy Cassy at a party in the bathroom. Because you love Casey. Yeah, right," I snarled sarcastically, taking pride in the paleness of Sam's face and the stunned looks on the faces of all of our friends. Yeah, Sammy really did sink that low. "You loved Casey so much that not only were you stupid enough to invite her in while you were cheating on her, but you even expected her to join in! You love her so much that you stuck yourself into any wet hole you could find," I continued mercilessly. I shook my head, not possessing an ounce of pity for the lousy wenis. "So you don't get to lie to me, Sam, because I know exactly how low you sunk, and I know exactly what you did."

I sat up a little straighter in my chair and gazed around at all the stunned and silent faces around me. Yeah, I know, kids, jono. Some of them even looked angry, although I didn't know who they were mad at- myself or Sam. Frankly, I didn't give a damn. I don't even care what he says, because he really can't say anything. If it was possible, Sam paled even further, realizing that I knew about Dean. I shot him a smug grin to show him that, yes, I did know about him. I'd just refrained from mentioning him or the fact that Dean resembled myself noticeably. He swallowed weakly.

But then he seemed to remember something that gave him hope. I hated seeing that damn cheerful, screw-you-Derek look in his eyes. I wanted to kill that look. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Derek... She's already forgiven me. We'll be getting back together any day soon," Sam remarked casually. My eyes widened. My ass. He's lying through his teeth. Casey will never get back with him. She doesn't even want to look at him again.

I shook my head abruptly, refusing to believe him. "You're either lying or delusional. Casey said she wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole," I argued stubbornly, glaring at him. He just made it war. Maybe I will get a nice fist-fight in after all. I'm just dying to lick him. Like knock him out, not lick-him-lick-him. That would be nasty, and I don't swing that way. Besides, I've got Casey.

Sam, however, shrugged casually. I noticed our friends' eyes darting from one of us to the other. I pursed my lips, deciding they would come to my side. I was, after all, in the right here. He deserves to be ostracized for what he did. He snickered. "Well, she also said she'd rather have sex with you... And she obviously hasn't done that," Sam pointed out calmly, holding back some chuckles. She obviously hasn't? Why does he think she hasn't, huh? Just 'cause she hates me? And she did, dumbass! Loads of time. Besides, it's not like she had sex with him either! Um, I mean, at all. She shut him out. He said that like the mere idea of it was the most amusing, hilarious thing in the world, which it wasn't, and then he gave me this queer look, like he was waiting for something.

Did he know?

Oh, pah, like I give a care what he thinks! "Can't say I blame her!" For the first one, not the second, like Sam thinks. I'd love it if he knew I beat him to Casey. I'd love him to know that she's mine, M-I-N-E, mine, not his anymore! I wanted nothing more than to burst out with the truth, but I couldn't do that. It made me so damn pissed, though. I was one step away from exploding. "And she obviously hasn't had sex with you either, since you cheated on her with every little whore that came your way," I sniped back, feeling that something had shifted in our argument. I hadn't noticed that I'd stood up, but I had, probably ages ago. God, I wanted to leave the cafeteria and talk to Casey. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that she was looking at the two of us with worry and curiosity. I frowned before turning back to Sam.

He grinned like a dope, shrugging nonchalantly. "Oh, it won't be long, I'm sure," he replied drolly. My eyes narrowed in irritation. Contrary to his belief, Casey isn't that easy. And she's not getting back with him. If she could ever trust him again. Besides, who would want to be with him? Sexually or otherwise? I don't like that damn cocky tone of his. What's he plotting? Jeez, plotting? Makes him sound like a cartoon villain. Or like someone who actually plans things. "She's going to take me back." I scoffed, but Sam continued, sounding so damn assured. I hated him for it. "She loves me, and I love her. Why wouldn't she?" Sam asked rhetorically. Oh, he was definitely enjoying this.

I rolled my eyes. "She didn't say that!" I growled a bit more fiercely than I'd intended. Sam smirked. "She's over you," I stated, hating the way it sounded like I was trying to convince myself. But it was true, wasn't it? That's what she told me.

Sam merely shook his head, giving me a look like I was the naïve, idiotic one. Gah, I hate him! Asshole! Bastard. Rat bastard. I continued blissfully cursing him out in my head. "I seriously doubt that, considering she told me herself when I came over on your birthday," Sam muttered diffidently. He looked bored, actually. I, on the other hand, was steaming. He must be the asshole who rang the doorbell. And that's why it took Casey so long, and why the house was cold for like an hour afterwards. And he's the one who gave her that cheap, ugly necklace that she keeps looking at when she thinks I don't notice! I don't know who I'm more furious at, him or Casey! She lied, but... maybe Sam's lying. She probably didn't tell him that. I somehow managed to restrain myself from punching him. That was a miracle, by the way.

My blood was boiling in my veins. Sam's grin widened. Seedy bastard. I hate that smug look. He'd stood up too, crossing his arms over his chest righteously. "We've got a date for next Friday. I asked her just today, and she said yes," Sam explained, sounding quite full of myself. He's got to be lying, I told myself, but there was that stupid truthful gleam in his eyes. He's enjoying this way too much. If he enjoys it any more, he's gonna get his ass kicked. I shot Casey a frantic look, begging for denial or confirmation, but she was studiously looking away from the brewing brawl. I scowled and turned my attention back to Sam, fully ready to do battle with him. He leaned across the table all cool and seedy-like and gave me a sleazy wink. "It's only a matter of time before I seal the deal," He whispered, so close to me that I felt his stupid morning breath on my face. For a moment, I was surprised it didn't smell like men, the stupid brainer.

Then I found myself more enraged than I could ever remember being. I didn't throw myself at him right away, but I wanted to. "The only reason I didn't beat the crap out of you earlier was because Casey didn't want me to. But I refuse to let you get away talk about my sister that way!" I shouted, leaping across the table and socking him across the face. I fortunately managed to land on my back, but Sam fell to the ground like a bowling pin. A bowling pin that bruises like a peach and has a glass jaw. Predictably, Sam got up and tried to punch me while I was sitting up, but I blindsighted him with a left hook and sent him flying into the table. I was on my feet within seconds. It hurt, but it felt damn good to sock it to him. Bastard had it coming, and I've wanted to do that for months. Literally, months. It feels so very satisfying.

This time I was ready for Sam when he came at me, and I managed to move to the side just before he tried to tackle me, smoothly tripping him and catching his head in a headlock. I made breathing a little difficult for him and contemplated simultaneously punching him in the stomach before deciding that was too low-class for him. I didn't want to do any dirty tricks like him. So I held his head until he stopped struggling, and then I slammed him down on the floor. It wasn't worth fighting with him anymore when it was so damn easy to win, so I turned my back on him and started heading towards the door. Unfortunately, Sam managed to get up, and he hit me in the head with a lunch tray. The first time I was dazed, so he hit me twice more before I got my bearings. By that point, I was bleeding lightly from the head. I'd gotten a scratch and possibly a concussion. Like it was the first time.

I flung my arm out at Sam's stomach blindly, knocking the wind out of him. I could already see the bruises forming on his face, red now, but soon to be a motley of blue, black, and purple. Sam struck out at me again with the lunch tray, but I tore it out of his hands and threw it down. Sam tried then to attack me, but I instinctively punched him in the eye when I felt his hands on my shoulders. Sam fell back, clutching his eye and probably seeing stars. "You're not worth it," I muttered, panting lightly, wiping at my forehead.

Sam sat up angrily, holding his eye. His lips were in a thin line. "Goin' soft?" Sam asked lightly, breathlessly. I glared daggers at him. He was one to talk. He's not exactly the paradigm of manliness himself. Plus, why waste my sweat on Sam? I just shook my head and turned around. "Pussy!" Sam screamed so loud that everyone heard him and stared. Oh, no, I wasn't about to have that. I was anything but that. Sam lunged at me, grabbing my legs, trying to bring me down.

Nevertheless, I managed to stay standing and kicked out at Sam blindly. I whirled around, trying to push him off of me, but Sam just tried to grab me and... I don't know what. So, now seriously concerned for my safety, I shoved Sam off of me, kicking him away until I could stand. I stood over him. He was winded and tired, and I'd possibly broken something. Not that I wanted to. I wanted to tell him that fighting doesn't make you a man sometimes, but that would contradict my point. I was the bigger man. I was the one who tried to walk away. "You're one to talk," I growled instead, shaking my head in disgust and leaving abruptly. Especially since he's a bitch. Only when I was outside did I start swearing, and I felt the pain of my head. OUCH.

That didn't feel like a plastic tray! I had a giant lump forming on my head, a bunch of them really. And all of them hurt like bitches. Okay, so let's see... I'll probably get expelled and/or kicked off the hockey team for fighting... although that's a valuable skill in hockey, so whatever... In addition to getting a serious grounding. And I'll have to go to the doctor, and Dad'll probably make me pay for it. And Casey's gonna be pissed at me, assuming I'm even still secretly dating her in the first place, since apparently she's got Sam back in her life. And I can't compete with love. Not her love for him. I'm the one who's going to lose. I'm the one who she's played for a fool, and I'm going to be the one to suffer from all of this. And then they'll laugh it up.

No one cares about poor Derek. I get it.

Well, where is Casey anyways? Might as well get this thing over with quick so I can get the hell out of Dodge. And figure out how this is all going to work afterward. God knows I've got no idea. Aw, hell, I never even deserved Casey in the first place... Might as well just accept the inevitable. But still, it's worse to lose her to someone like Sam, who's worse than me, and not even part-way decent. She deserves better than that, at least.

Speak of the devil. Casey came running out of the cafeteria towards me. I was somewhat surprised. Sam hasn't even gone to the nurse yet. I'm sure there must've been some teachers inside too, but no one's come out to get me. The principal hasn't even shown up yet. The hallway remained eerily empty. She immediately came over to me, putting her hands on the sides of my face tenderly. She hesitantly moved one of her hands to my forehead, touching one of the bumps gently. I hissed in pain, and Casey wiped away a little blood. "Care to tell me what that was all about?" She asked in a surprisingly calm, level voice.

I thought she'd be mad or worried that I told him or something. I shrugged, gritting my teeth as she probed another of my injuries. "You heard what I said. I wasn't going to let him talk about you like you were an object. I wasn't going to sit there and let him play the victim," I muttered somewhat irritably, getting steamed just thinking about it. Casey smiled faintly and kissed me softly. Wow. I actually get rewarded for my idiocy. Maybe she isn't going to dump me after all.

When Casey pulled back, she was still smiling. She hadn't even glanced around the hallway to see if anyone was there. "Thank you," She breathed somewhat shyly. I couldn't believe my good luck. She hadn't even been suspicious or asked about anything else. That wasn't the only reason I punched him. It was just the straw that broke the camel's back.

That should've been enough for me, it really should have. But it wasn't, and I opened my stupid mouth and asked the dumbest question of them all. "Sam said you're going out with him next Friday. Is that true?" Casey looked visibly stunned this time, stunned into silence. And that's when I knew something was horribly wrong. I'd surprised her with my knowledge, and it had shut her up. So it was true, then.

Casey looked down, her cheeks heating up. "Yeah, 'bout that... I was going to tell you, Derek," She mumbled shamefully. She played with her fingers, swinging her arms. I was stone still, rigid with fury. I couldn't believe that she would be so... deceitful. For a long while, I just stared at her, shaking my head. I took a step back, still somewhat in disbelief.

And then I found my voice. "When, Casey? When you went out with him? When you dumped me for him?!" I retorted, raising my voice. Casey looked around, once again paranoid. My eyes narrowed. I shot her a look of disgust. "I had to find out from Sam, Casey. Sam! You couldn't even have the decency to tell me yourself!" I snapped, voice crackling with rage. My eyes raked her over hot coals. At first Casey stuttered, looking down guiltily, but then she brought her head back up to look at me.

Her eyes were dark, and her voice was quiet. "I mean it, Derek... He just asked me after third period. I tried to say no, but..." Casey said almost pleadingly. She sounded refreshingly sincere. Casey bit her lip, reaching out to grab my hand. "Derek... It's just one date. And probably nothing will happen." She sounded so innocent when she said that, but I knew better. Sam doesn't seem to think so, after all. Maybe he has a reason to think so. I mean... probably? If she wants to convince me, she ought to tell me nothing will happen. Definitely, not probably.

"Okay, then, if that's really true, then would you explain to me why Sam seems to think that you're going to be getting together soon?" I countered furiously. Casey's eyes widened, and I dropped her hand. Well, at least she looks surprised. But, come on, any idiot knows it's headed in that direction. "Why he seems to think that you'll be having sex with him all of a sudden when I know you don't even want to touch him ever again?" I continued in frustration. Casey's jaw dropped, and I knew the surprise was genuine this time around. Man, Sam is a tacky whore. Casey should just blow him off.

Casey shrugged, but she looked a little angry. "Sam is clearly delusional. I would never have sex with him," Casey swore vehemently. I felt myself smiling. "I didn't know he thought of me that way. Like I'm that cheap and easy like his little whore," Casey said bitterly. Her own eyes narrowed, and I felt much better. Yes, maybe I've driven a wedge between them for good. Maybe she's finally all mine.

I grabbed her hands, pulling her closer to me. "So stand him up, Casey. Don't go. Tell him no. Leave him behind you," I implored in a breathless whisper, clutching her hands in desperation. Casey frowned, looking uncomfortable. I began to worry anew. And maybe, then again... She shook her head, exhaling heavily, and she looked me in the eyes.

She dropped her hands out of mine. "You know I can't do that, Derek." Oh, yeah, I know. Why can't she? Why can't she forget about Sam? Haven't I been a thousand times a better boyfriend than him? Haven't I treated her right? Haven't I loved her more than he could ever imagine? Casey's eyes were wet with unfallen tears. "You can't forget your first love. Sam will never be what I wanted or what I deserve, I know that. But, for whatever reason, I still love him, and he'll always have a place in my heart," Casey explained passionately. I felt like I'd been shot. But I wasn't that surprised. There it was, everything unspoken out on the table. She loves him, yeah, yeah, yeah.

There was a tiny spark of hope left, though. Sam isn't what she wanted, even if she still loves him. But then... what is what she wanted? Am I even what she wants? The words bubbled out of me before I could stop them, bypassing my brain and issuing straight from my mouth. "You didn't agree because you couldn't say no. You agreed because you're still in love with him, and you want to start things back up again!" I snarled accusingly. It was still so unbelievable to me. That she actively seek pain and disappointment like that. Casey actually looked scared, probably because I was in her face and more furious than she'd ever seen me. Or maybe she was scared because she knew I was right.

She shook her head defiantly. "That's not true, Derek! I said yes because he was pathetic, and he didn't give me much of a choice! It was going to be a pity date, okay?! Just a pity date!" Casey argued ferociously, coming right back in my face. "I don't..." She trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. In reality, she was unable to say that she didn't still have feelings for him, and she couldn't think of a way to end it. "Don't be angry, okay?" I rolled my eyes. That was, quite possibly, the most idiotic thing she has ever said.

How does she expect me to not be angry, even if she's innocent? "It's more than that, and you know it, Casey." I shook my head, lips curling up unpleasantly. "Oh, no... I'm not angry at you for hurting me. I'm furious. I'm pissed that you're going to go back to someone who would treat you so bad. Someone who doesn't even care and so blatantly doesn't deserve you. You're better than that, Casey. If you're going to leave me, at least leave me for someone better!" I yelled savagely. Like Noel. Or Tinker. Or Trevor. Or Sheldon, even. I don't mean that they're necessarily better than me, but they're at least nicer. And pretty much anyone's better than Sam except Max (those two are par for the course, really). Those guys... they'd at least treat her good.

Casey started to say something, but I interrupted. "Don't you have more self-respect than that? I find it hard to believe that you could forgive him so easily. The first time we met, I hit on you. You threw a vase at my head, screamed at me, and held it against me for the rest of my life," I remarked pointedly. Casey stiffened, clearly remembering the incident. I honestly didn't even remember what I said. I was kind of hungover, so I said something that might've been slightly obscene. I'm not sure I even knew she was my stepsister then, but Casey definitely knew I was her stepbrother, so she grabbed the vase off the table and aimed for my head. Fortunately, I ducked, and the vase hit the wall.

"I am not a hypocrite, Derek! Just because I forgive Sam doesn't mean I forgot what he did to me. I remember. And it sure as hell doesn't mean I trust him or that I want to be with him again," Casey retorted, coming towards me. The anger was sparking in her eyes. It was the first argument we'd had since we got together, and it felt safe, familiar. I'd say like coming home, but it wasn't the kind of fight we were used to. Nevertheless, I'd missed seeing that side of her, the feisty side. She grabbed me by the collar, looking up at me with beseeching eyes. "Why can't you trust me?" Casey begged, wrapping her arms around my neck and shooting me a smoldering look.

I wanted to trust her. I wanted to trust her so badly. But I couldn't do it, and I knew why. "Because you don't love me, Casey! You love him!" I shouted. Casey flinched as if she'd been hit. I leaned against a locker, panting. There it was. I'm not that stupid, Casey. I thought I was okay with her not loving me, but I don't think I ever was. I can't erase Sam out of her mind, no matter how strongly I feel. Or, apparently, even how much of an ass he is. So how can I be sure that she's not going to cheat on me? I can't. If I was dating someone, and I had the opportunity to get with Casey, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Albeit I'd dump the other chick. Emotional adultery is still cheating. Not that we're married or anything. Just this morning she was kissing me, having sex with me...

Casey laughed, patting my arm. "That's it? You're jealous of Sam? How stupid!" Casey exclaimed, quick to laugh it off. She thought I didn't see the way she avoided my eyes, the way she looked away, that damn nervous tremor in her voice! Oh, but I knew better than that! I'm no fool!

"Were you just using me until something better came along? Was I practice? What am I to you, Casey?" I growled, ripping her hands off of me. I wrapped my hands around her forearms, pulling her closer. I wanted to ask her how she feels about me, but I couldn't do it. That would be too needy. And... maybe I don't want an answer to that question because I won't like what I'll hear. She stayed silent. She couldn't answer that question. I was tempted to ask her whether she even cared at all. I wondered if she'd been waiting for this all along, or if it was just some sick form of revenge... "Is that all this is? Revenge? Did you just pick me to screw with Sam?!" I bit back, feeling like something had snapped inside of me.

Casey paled a little, and just when I thought I couldn't feel worse, I did. I felt like wolves had each of my limbs in their teeth and were slowly pulling me apart. She looked down. So it was for revenge, huh? I stiffened but didn't let go of her. For a moment, I just stared, unable to speak. There were no words. But Casey struggled. "It's not like that, Derek! That's not why I... why I... That's not it!" She sounds real convinced, doesn't she? I managed to subdue her, and her voice dropped an octave. "I care about you," She murmured. I just laughed bitterly until Casey cut me off with a passionate kiss, leaning forward and wrapping herself around me.

If I was a lesser man, that might've distracted me like it was intended to. I'm not gonna lie. It was a helluva kiss. But it didn't make me forget. Besides, we were in the hallway, and anyone could walk by. I shook my head, pulling away from the kiss with a loud smacking sound. I looked Casey straight in the eyes, wanting honesty. "It's either me or Sam. You can't have us both, and I'm not about to play second fiddle. So choose." Yes, I actually presented it that bluntly. I knew deep down that she was never going to choose me anyway. But I'm not going to be with someone who doesn't want me.

She was livid. "You have no right to ask me that, Derek!" She shrieked, knocking my hands off her. Oh, don't I? I was tempted to retort back, but Casey kept on talking. "If I wanted to be with Sam, I'd be with him now. This is really ridiculous, Derek. It's just one date. You're completely overreacting," Casey pointed out with a cooler head than mine. Honestly, she might well have been right. Maybe I was overreacting a little, but I was jealous, and my "friend" had just told me he was dating her. Again. My girlfriend, not his. I told him to get his own. It sounds kind of like she chose me if you listen to it like that, but I knew I'd only lose in the end. She didn't really want to choose either of us. But I was mad enough to overlook what she'd said. No matter how many times she said she didn't want to be with Sam, I didn't really believe her.

As far as I was concerned, it was only a matter of time before she hooked up with him again. She was nuts if she didn't think it was killing me to do this. Because it was. I saw things clearly then. She loves Sam. She's going to be with him sooner or later, and I'm not about to have her stolen away from me. I saw the haunted look in her eyes, and I realized how flat she was, how dead, how completely devoid of animation she was. It wasn't worth it to hold on to her like that. She wasn't my Casey; she was just a stranger. Then I saw everything... I saw the future pity in her eyes as she looked at me, that this was her way of not hurting me. I didn't want to be strung along anymore. I knew what I had to do. "I might be overreacting, but I'm not about to get dumped for Sam. You don't want to be with me, and I'm not going to force you. Obligation ended," I finished in a voice so cold it could've made Nunavut look warm. Definitely, definitively over.

I turned away from Casey, adopting a stoic expression, and pushed her hands away from me. Like I was going to let her cheat on me? Casey stared at me in confusion and disbelief. What's there to misunderstand? I've made myself perfectly clear. It's over. End of story. I'm no chump. Her jaw had actually dropped, and I felt a sense of pride that I'd been able to stun her. Hadn't done that much lately. I was getting all predictable and lovelorn. Then she was staring at me with those eyes, those damn crystal blue eyes of hers. Let's face the truth of it here, Case. You jumped at the chance to get back with Sam again without even giving me a second thought. And I am no afterthought. "I..."

What, is that all you can say? I rolled my eyes, straightening my posture icily. "But I didn't... Nothing happened, Derek. Why... why are you doing this?" Casey stammered, looking more upset than I would've ever expected of her. Didn't she get that I was setting her free? If Sam's what she really wants... then I have no claim to her. I tried. I tried so hard. But you can't make someone love you. Not even me. I don't think Casey will ever love me.

She's probably just upset that I'm "leaving" her. "Why do you care, Case? Why are you so upset?" I rejoined abrasively. Casey flinched, and it actually looked as if she was going to cry. I felt bad for that, admittedly, but I was more upset. It hurt to see her looking all sad about it when I knew it was so fake. She sniffed, and I rolled my eyes, hoping I looked bored as hell with the conversation. I didn't want to drag it out any longer. I waited a few moments for her to answer my question, but nothing was forthcoming. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see Coach. Maybe if I talk to him, I can convince him to talk to Lassiter about not suspending me and letting me play hockey," I muttered rather grimly, reminding her of how I'd beaten up her ex because of her. I gritted my teeth, somehow knowing that was an incredible mistake.

When I turned my back on her to leave, her hand shot out and grabbed my arm. She twisted me around to face her with an almost crazed look in her eyes. "Derek, c'mon... Don't do this. We're not finished yet," Casey appealed to me in desperation. It was true, even though I wanted to admit it. She meant that we weren't finished talking yet. There were so many holes in this break-up thing, so many things not accounted for or negotiated that she probably just wanted to straighten things out. I don't want to have that lame post-break-up conversation, especially not now. I don't even want to think about it. I've got enough to worry about without thinking about my failed relationship.

I gave her a look that could melt a hockey rink, glowering at her with a particular malice. "Forgive me, but I'm not in the mood," I hissed. My eyes narrowed so much I thought I was cross-eyed for a second. Casey frowned, looking put off. Probably wanted to talk about her feelings. What is up with girls and talking about their feelings? I just want to forget about mine. I shook my wrist free from her grip abruptly. "I've got to practice if I want to be the next Gretzky," I vowed. Yes, think about hockey. Hockey is good, dependable, safe. I may not be a psychic prodigy, but I can be better with hours of practice every day. "Later," I said, fixing her with a look.

Then the bell rang for the next lunch period, and people started streaming into the hallways from the cafeteria and classrooms. I turned my back on Casey and took the opportunity to disappear into the crowd. Nevertheless, I could hear her shouting after me in anger. "Screw you, Derek!" A smirk played on my face for a while. Yeah, Casey, you already did. This morning, even. I forced the thoughts of her out of my mind, intent on focusing on the task ahead of me. I breezed past everyone, only stopping when I reached Coach's office. I found myself standing in front of his door, holding my breath. Suddenly I wasn't so sure it'd work.

That being said, I took a deep breath and waltzed right in anyways. Coach immediately turned to look at me, giving me the nod. I felt nervous, but I tried to push it aside. "Venturi, what are you doing here?" He barked. I wasn't afraid of Coach. He likes me, says I'm like a son to him, even. I was more afraid of the situation and possibly losing the only thing that might hold me together.

I swallowed hard. He was not going to like this. "Sam and I... kind of got into a fight at lunch." Coach gave me a skeptical look, encouraging me to go on. "Okay, we did." Coach motioned for me to continue. I sighed, "And I won, I guess." Coach nodded and stood up from behind his desk, scrutinizing me.

"I suppose I don't need to tell you how you've probably screwed up team dynamics. You're lucky Sam's a defenceman and not one of your wingers, or else you'd probably be screwed. So let's get down to it... How bad is he hurt?" Coach said quite diplomatically. I liked that he was one of those guys who just said what he was thinking. Very direct. Being direct is good in a hockey player. Like our power forwards, for instance, huge and direct. I pondered the question for a minute, trying to remember how badly I'd injured him. It hadn't felt that bad, but my knuckles were pretty bruised.

Shrugging, I answered him, "Dunno. I punched him and threw him around a little, but I didn't really injure him. Black eye, maybe some bruised ribs... something with his jaw. I don't think I broke anything." I mentally added it up... bruised chin, probably not broken, bruised cheek, I think, black eye, maybe broken ribs from me kicking him... And I did punch him in the stomach... Doesn't sound like anything serious, really. Coach nodded contemplatively.

"Okay. Well... Sounds all right. You could be in for some trouble if his ribs are hurt, but other than that... Sounds like you just roughed him up a little." If you're wondering why Coach is so calm, it's because fighting is a great hockey tradition. You get awful penalties for it, of course, but that's how a hockey player earns respect. By fighting. Besides, if your goalie's good enough, then you can stand it. Our goalie's more than good enough, but they discourage fighting on high school teams. It'd be different if I was in a midget league. Seriously, though, Ralph is good at two things: being a goalie and playing the drums. Coach scrutinized me. "What was the fight about, Derek?"

I stiffened reflexively and looked away evasively. I didn't particularly want to tell him. What business of his was it anyways? But maybe I ought to tell him... if, you know, I want him to help me and all. Coach gave me a look, leaning forward, hands on his desk. "Venturi, level with me. I need to know what your beef is with Sam. Can't have it starting up again on the ice. Whatever's been going down with you two has been going down for a while... It just finally exploded today. Tell me, Venturi. What sent you over the edge?" Coach questioned frankly.

For a moment I debated what to say. I momentarily pondered whether I should say I'm in love with Sam's... uh... ex-girlfriend? Is she still his ex? But he could figure out that was Casey, and I can't betray her like that. Or myself, really. She probably doesn't want anyone to know. I shook my head to clear it of the thoughts. "My stepsister. Sam was dating my stepsister off and on. She caught him cheating on her at a party on New Years', and she dumped him right there. Then this lunch, Sam was saying all this crap, trying to make himself out to be the victim. And I just couldn't take it, so I called him on his lies. Then he told me he was going out with her again, and he made this comment, talking about her like she was an object. And I snapped. And then we fought for a while, and I had him down, so I tried to walk away. But he wouldn't let me. So I beat him up until I could get away," I explained dryly. Wow. I managed to say that without rage. Impressive.

Coach nodded, frowning a little. He didn't like that it was the kind of problem that wouldn't exactly disappear. Neither did I, for that matter. Things would be so much... simpler. He squinted, walking out from behind his desk, coming to stand next to me. He eyed me quizzically, firmly touching my forehead and pulling it back. It came back bloody. Coach frowned, grabbing a tissue and wiping the blood off his hand. "You didn't tell me Sam got you too." I shrugged. It wasn't that bad. It didn't really matter much to me, I guess. Then Coach walked back over to me, putting his hands on my shoulders. He asked me some questions in a gruff voice and then performed a test on me. Apparently I failed it, because he removed his hands from my shoulders a few moments later, shaking his head. "You've got a concussion, Venturi. Now I want you to avoid further head trauma and go to the hospital and see a doctor. Pronto," Coach ordered. So that's what that splitting pain in my head is. And why I feel kinda dizzy. Hmm, that's nice. Damn Sam.

His frown deepened into a scowl. "Looks like you won't be playing hockey for a while, Kid."

My eyes bulged. He couldn't! Not now, not when I needed it the most! Deep down I knew he was right. It wasn't healthy for me to play injured. I only risked getting more injured by playing. But I wanted to play so badly, to pour all of myself into something productive so I could forget... forget that Casey wouldn't be there waiting for me anymore. "No, Coach! I need hockey!" I pleaded desperately, grabbing him by the arm. I would've gotten down on my knees then and begged him to let me play. "Please, don't do this to me," I requested with more emotion than I ever remembered showing my coach before.

Coach frowned, shaking his head. He put his hands on my shoulders, looking me straight in the eyes. "I know, Derek," He said understandingly, patting my shoulder. His compassion was both startling and somewhat comforting, but I... how could he understand it? Coach was in the NHL before, you know, and I might never say this out loud, but I do really look up to him. He's more concerned about me than my own father half the time, since Dad is absentminded and clueless. Dad's so weak, but Coach will yell at me without thinking if I do something wrong. I kind of need that and like that sometimes. "But, Venturi, I can't put you in 'til you're better. If I do, I'm just risking your health, maybe even your life. A concussion is serious stuff, kid. I can't say you won't get injured out there even when you're at full health. But if you play injured, you're as good as a dead man walking out there," Coach declared matter-of-factly.

A concussion is a pretty bad injury, but players have played through worse... broken bones, severe back pain, the list goes on... I don't see why I can't do the same. I scowled. "Mario Lemieux played with far more serious health problems than mine." A herniated disk, a broken hand. He led the Canadian team to win the 2002 Winter Olympics. He had to have shots of painkillers to get him on the ice. He beat cancer. He scored five goals on the day he completed his last radiation treatment. His back pain was so severe that he couldn't even bend over to lace his skates. And he still played. The man is a living legend.

At this remark, Coach's eyes narrowed. "Trust me, I know, Venturi. I played with Mario." His tone was steely. I raised an eyebrow. I'd never known that. He never said which team he played with... Coach smiled. "He's probably the nicest, strongest person I have ever known. He was a true inspiration to us all," Coach said almost dreamily. I nodded, knowing the feeling. I'd seen him on the ice. Coach moved away, clapping his hand on my shoulder affectionately. "But even Mario knew when to take a rest. So go home, see a doctor, and get some rest. And come back as soon as your doctor says it's okay. There'll be a spot waiting for you. Until then... You're still team captain," Coach said with a warm, friendly smile.

That was as good as saying that I could come back and help him with the team. I found myself smiling. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how tired I really was. Then he took his hands off my shoulder, walking back to his desk. He motioned for me to leave, but I didn't budge. Coach gave me a kind of sour look. "Now go on home, Venturi. Don't worry about it. I'll call all your teachers and talk to Lassiter for you. You just go to the hospital, okay. And get someone else to drive home for you, like that stepsister of yours," Coach demanded, fixing me with a stern look. I nodded solemnly, and my vision swam for a minute. As soon as my eyes cleared, I turned and walked back into the main hallway.

The crowd parted like the red seas for me. Gasps and whispers followed me, but I didn't care. All I saw was Casey, and she was waiting for me by my locker, looking concerned. I wanted to ditch her there, but I couldn't do that. Coach was right. I needed her. A helluva lot more than I was willing to admit to anyone, least of all her. So I walked up to her as cool as can be and grabbed her arm. She looked at me, all worried, but I brushed it off. She struggled to keep up with me. "Derek, what's wrong? Are you okay? You look feverish!" She exclaimed anxiously in a rush of questions.

I shrugged, wiping at the blood on my forehead. It was still warm, and I was still bleeding. I frowned, and suddenly I realized I was holding her hand. We came upon the door, and I pushed it open, pulling her out with me. I didn't look back at her, but it reassured me to know she was there. "I've got a concussion, and you're going to drive me home. A legitimate family emergency," I elucidated rather abruptly. We headed to the car, and Casey helped me in the passenger's side like I was a bleeding invalid. Maybe I was bleeding, but I wasn't any invalid. I slammed the door shut, and Casey got in the driver's side. She carefully started down the road that led to home.

After that, I don't remember much. I was so tired. It took so much effort just to keep my head up, and I could barely manage that. My eyelids were so heavy. My eyes fluttered closed, fuzzy and thick with sleep, and no matter how smoothly Casey drove, my head jerked up and down... every which way, really... so often that I'm almost positive I got whiplash. The cycle repeated itself over and over, and sometimes Casey would glance over and notice my eyes were closed. Then she would yell and make awful noise and smack me lightly on the arm. You're not supposed to fall asleep when you've got a concussion, I think. It can result in death or something. Eventually, though, we skidded to a stop in the driveway, and Casey helped me out of the car. Turns out I needed her help more than I thought.

At first, I was so tired I forgot that I was furious with her, forgot that I resented her, forgot even that I'd dumped her. Well, that's not true. I remembered that dimly, but it suddenly seemed to me such a mistake. I wanted to take it all back. Casey helped me inside, sitting me down on my recliner. She put a cool hand on my forehead, frowning at me. "Okay... I'll get you some ice for your head and some coffee to keep you up. I'll be right back, Derek," She murmured calmly, softly pressing her lips against mine. Then she left, and I felt my weary eyes close.

She came back a few moments later, bearing tea and a towel filled with ice. I woke up when I felt her hands lightly slapping my cheeks. Pursing her lips, Casey leaned forward, holding the makeshift ice pack to my head. She picked up the hot tea, blowing on it and carefully holding the mug to my lips, tipping it back just slightly enough so that I could drink. As she predicted, the heat and caffeine woke me up and made my head clear again. But I wasn't angry, not at first. And I thought maybe I'd made a mistake. She'd looked after me when I'd been so awful to her. Maybe she wasn't lying. Maybe she did care. Maybe she wouldn't leave me for Sam.

So I sat up, wretchedly hopeful, and she set the mug down on the coffee table. What, no coaster? And then I grabbed her wrists, and there was a wild look in her eyes, almost like she was afraid of me. It stung, but for a moment I just reclined there and stared at her, drinking her in, in total disbelief that she had ever been mine to have. I'd never taken her for granted, but I'd gotten accustomed to her. Dangerous things happen when you start getting used to people. Then I leaned forward, so that I was only inches from her lips, but I didn't kiss her. I licked my lips. Yes, it was all a mistake. An awful mistake, and I had to correct it. "Casey... We need to talk," I whispered raggedly, urgently. I couldn't let her go on thinking that...

Casey stiffened in my arms and pulled back. She stared at me like I was a stranger, jerking her wrists from my grip. But I didn't let go. My formerly soft grip turned hard and unforgiving, digging into her wrists, pulling on her so she couldn't leave. Casey struggled, but she knew I was stronger. I pulled her forward, into my lap. She shook her head, shouting, "No! Let go of me, Derek! Let me go!" Her screams were loud and piercing like battle cries. She managed then to wrench her wrists from my hands and flung her fisted hands at my chest. Her fists hit my stomach, my ribs, like a drumbeat, one after the other. One, two, one, two, one, two... a steady staccato beat like my heart, fast and hot and desperate. I did let her go.

She shook her head, finally stopping, breathless and with hot tears streaming down her face. Casey moved back so that she was no longer straddling me. She swiped at her eyes as if embarrassed or ashamed. Funny. I hadn't even cared about the tears. She took a deep breath to steady herself, straightening her posture. "I think we both said all we had to say earlier," She replied stiffly. She pursed her lips, pausing for a moment, and a rather bitter smile crossed her lips. "Well, at least you did." I frowned. She was wrong, so wrong! I opened my mouth to talk, to contradict her, but she silenced me with a finger to the lips. "And it's all right. I concur. You were right, Derek. Maybe I do want to go out with Sam after all. I love Sam, and I don't see what I was trying to hold on to with you... Let's just call it shock and temporary insanity," Casey supplied coolly in a low voice.

I gaped at her. She was so cold, so unfeeling. The tears she'd cried- for whatever reason- were gone. Only traces of them remained on her cheeks, remnants of areas she hadn't completely dried. And then my blood started to boil again. She thought so little of me and was practically laughing at something that had meant a lot to me. Relationships like that don't happen to me. "Temporary insanity?!You're writing off our entire relationship as temporary insanity?!" I growled, hearing a dangerous instability in my own voice. My tone was already verging on hysteria. I could've strangled her. How coldly she'd said that, as if she'd never felt anything for me, as if she'd never seen one damn thing in me.

Casey moved even further away from me, and her lips curled into a very familiar smirk. My smirk, the one I taught her, one of many things I taught her. I hated the obscene sight of that careless, smug, victorious grin on her face. She had me cornered like a rat, and she knew it. Then she made it worse by letting out a showy chuckle. "What would you prefer I call it? An attack of hormones? Being in the wrong place at the right time? My misfortune?" Casey quipped cuttingly. Her words were like a razor blade slashing across my neck. She crossed her arms over her chest, jutting out her hip. She snorted at the look on my face, roughly caressing the side of my face. Her nails lightly scratched my cheek. "After all, Derek, we were never really in a relationship, now were we? You never took me out in public, never told a soul... We just had an agreement once, that's all, and now it's concluded. End of story," Casey stated icily, a mocking smile on her lips.

She patted my cheek, slapping it. "Poor little Derek," She cackled. Poor Derek indeed. Poor brokenhearted Derek, in love with an absolutely indifferent girl. A girl who didn't care if he lived or died. The pain cut straight to the heart, not bothering to mess around with the other organs. It even overshadowed my headache. I forgot entirely about the concussion, and I thought that this, at least, was one pain Mario Lemieux had probably never played with... the worst pain of all. A broken heart made arrhythmia look like a cakewalk.

I felt like I was going mad, and I was. I was losing it, or at least losing everything that mattered.

For my part, I could only stare at her in disbelief. Where was the Casey I knew? The Casey I loved? The one I thought I could trust? The one that let me... Where was she? I didn't know this jaded, corrupted girl standing in front of me. Her eyes boasted that she'd bested me, speaking of that final victory. It was that defeat she'd been longing for for so long. I hated that victorious gleam in her eyes. I wanted to tear them out and make it go away. Because I wasn't going down without a fight.

That was a lie, though. I had taken her out in public, albeit in Toronto. An agreement. She called our relationship an agreement, and not just that, but a temporary one. No, not end of story. Like the song goes, "she said it was over, but it was not over." Na na na-na na. This won't just disappear like she wants it to. I scowled at her, trying to cover up the hurt that was probably showing on my face. I sat up so fast I made myself dizzy, reaching out to her. She dodged me, but my hand snatched her wrist. I used her to pull myself up, staring at her defiantly.

"You're wrong, Casey. It won't just go away, and you won't forget. I can promise you that," I snarled, pulling her towards me roughly. My grip was definitely bruising. Casey looked like she was about to laugh, so I silenced her with a hand over her mouth. Like I cared if she bit me. "I'll let you go, Casey. But not without conditions," I agreed, scheming. I knew exactly what my conditions were. Then I pushed her back, letting her go.

Casey raised her eyebrows, shaking her head in silent disagreement. "You must be kidding, Derek. There are no conditions to a break-up," She retorted cruelly. But you see, that's where I had her. Because for all her pretty words about how we didn't have a relationship... she still thought we did. The balance of power was in my hands again, and you can bet I capitalized on it.

This time I let out a harsh, caustic laugh. "Look at you, Space Case, talking like we had a bona fide relationship," I snorted, eyes narrowing in rage. Casey reddened but still managed to hold her head up high. She shouldn't. "You seem to have forgotten that we had an agreement. Agreements involve conditions, so I'm only demanding what I have a right to have," I countered with a smirk crawling across my face. It didn't feel genuine, though, and I only felt sleazy for what I was going to ask of her. But damn it, didn't I have the right? Didn't I deserve something more than this?

Casey's eyes became narrow slits like the Venetian blinds in the living room, turning that electric blue shade I became so familiar with during our arguments. She put her hands on her hips stubbornly, refusing to even acknowledge what I said. "Why don't we call it what it really was, Derek?" Casey asked sharply, in a voice that was slow and frosty. Her eyes met mine piercingly, literally cutting me into a million pieces. Why did it matter? I was already all shattered. Unbelievably, it got worse, and I felt my own guilt eroding. This had probably all been buried beneath the surface of this supposedly idyllic relationship, this awful disdain, and I'd never seen it. "A mistake. On my part," She snapped caustically, knowing full well that each word blistered and burned my heart like hot oil. She'd finally said it, and I was scarred but not at all surprised.

I always thought she was lying that morning after. I felt it in my gut but I denied it because it hurt so bad to think that of her, and I wasn't going to be cynical. Honestly, I couldn't blame her. I almost agreed with her because it was a damn mistake. I should've never done that. I should've never even told her. But then again, wasn't it better to know what it was like, to have been at least remotely satisfied. Casey had made me very happy. My own eyes narrowed, and I didn't agree with her. "Mistakes don't happen more than once," I bit back viciously.

Casey stiffened because I did have a point there. Didn't matter, though. She'd refuse to acknowledge it like always. "Shows what you know," She scoffed, not even missing a beat. She didn't bat an eyelash either. Then she frowned at me and finally decided to acknowledge my request. "What do you want, Derek?" She snarled, sounding almost like a wild animal. Yet there was a lilt of curiosity in her voice that wanted to be satisfied.

This time I grinned mischievously. I figured I had the right. She didn't know it yet, but she was going to agree. She would disagree first, and, of course, be horribly offended. But in the end she would bend. "A last round for old times' sake," I requested casually, licking my lips and looking her over. I'd forgotten her enticing wardrobe choices this morning. Ha, what a pity. I actually thought that was mine. Casey actually full on gaped at me, as if surprised I had that sort of gall. She does know it's me, right? I mean, what else does she expect. She ought to expect crude and uncouth from me.

When Casey finally found her voice, she shook her head as I'd predicted. Took her long enough, didn't it? But she wouldn't always deny me. I was sure of that. "No. You used me, and now you don't want me anymore. And hell, I never wanted you," Casey rejoined comfortably. Not a single emotion flickered in her eyes. It made my skin crawl to think of her emotionless like that. That one really stung my pride though. She never wanted me. The truth finally comes out. But she was such a freaking hypocrite. SHE USED ME, and yet she stands there and accuses me of her own crime. Projector! And I did want her. I still loved her, for cripes' sake. All I ever did was love her.

And pressure her and make her uncomfortable and hit on her and maybe use a little more force than was necessary and make fun of her boyfriend and make her life as close to Hell as I could, but I cared about her. And I'd been there for her when no one else had. She owed me something. I stiffened reflexively and plastered a bitter smile unto my face. "Oh, Casey, but you did. Even if it was only the cheap, carnal pleasures of the flesh, you wanted me, all right," I contradicted her, pausing deliberately. My eyes were dark with need and want and craving, and that reflected in Casey. She looked a little scared, a little shaky. Probably because she knew I was right. She wasn't even able to make a snide comment.

I felt the familiar, genuine smirk tugging at my lips. I looked her over, and she looked fragile. Casey looked like she was about to snap. I stepped closer to her, knowing that even if she thought nothing of me, her body would always respond. And I could use that to betray her. "Now, what do you say, Princess?" I offered in a gruff, persuasive choice. If there was one thing I was fully confident of, it was my sexual prowess. For obvious reasons. Call me Casanova.

I smiled softly at her again, moving closer, putting my hand on her cheek. I would have her in the palms of my hands soon enough. My voice was low and guttural. "The sex was always the best part, and you know it." The back of my hand trailed across her cheek. "You'll probably never have anybody as good as me ever again, so you might as well enjoy it while you still can." I cocked an eyebrow enticingly. I smiled softly, looking down on her warmly. Then I licked my lips. "I promise I'll make it worth your while." I dragged my finger along her full bottom lip, inching even more forward so that she was intoxicated with my presence.

You know what they say about temptation... God, I'd forgotten how good she smelled, how good she tasted, and knowing that I could never do this again was the worst part of all. Her eyes fluttered, widening when she felt my thumb brush against her bottom lip. I knew she wanted me too; I could practically smell it. But then Casey abruptly turned her head to the side and tried to look all composed. Like her chest wasn't heaving and she wasn't imagining it and I hadn't left a trail of angry red bruises down her neck. "No..." She exhaled, unable to say anything more. Now who's the lightheaded one?

"Why not, Casey? After all, that's all I'm good for, isn't it?" I drawled bitterly, furious with her. It's the truth, though. That's what Casey thinks of me. Her eyes darkened in response, although whether in anger or arousal, I didn't know. Either way, she didn't even touch me. She averted her eyes, fixed her hair, and wisely took a full step backwards, away from me. She doesn't even trust herself around me, as well she should.

Casey's breaths were ragged. The sound of her breathing was all I could hear, that precious sound of her life. Then she did a most miraculous, strange, incredulous thing. Her eyes shot up to meet mine, her lips forming a thin line. "And if I don't agree to your little indecent proposal... what happens then?" She questioned urgently, eying me warily. I shot her a serious look that said I meant business.

"Trust me when I say you don't want to know. Just remember that I can make your life difficult, Casey, or I could make your life a living hell, Casey. Or I could stick around and refuse to let you go. Take your pick," I replied diffidently. So true. Let's see... It's have sex with me now or I won't dump you. Yeah, that really makes a lot of sense. She's really going to accept your offer, which is basically you blackmailing her for one last romp with her.

She nodded, frowning. I wasn't really going to do any of that, though. I might just make her life a little more miserable to compensate... "Details?" She requested, adding, "if I were to contemplate it." She was definitely considering it, I thought with a smile.

I kept the smile on my face and proceeded carefully. She'll be putty in my hands yet. "We've got a little less than three hours before anyone comes home. Spend those three hours with me in the bathroom, and I swear, I will be officially out of your life," I promised sincerely, stating out all the facts as they were. As much as I could be, at any rate. I gave her a suggestive look, implying how we'd pass all that time in the bathroom (not on the toilet). She frowned at me, a look of distaste coming over her face at the mention of the bathroom.

Casey shook her head, scowling at me. "Not worth it." Apparently that sort of thing's beneath her dignity. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. Speaking of which, I placed one of my hands on her thigh, sliding it up higher, underneath her skirt, up and up and up until... until my fingers latched into the elastic waistband of the cruel, opaque red tights she wore. My fingers slipped underneath the tights, edging their way further downward. Casey made no moves to try and stop me, but she gasped out breathlessly, "That's tantamount to rape, you know!"

Her voice was shrill and high enough to make me flinch. There was that R-word, that word I despised. I brushed my lips against her neck. "Not if you consent to it. I know you're not going to screw Sammy... at least for a while. So you might as well get all your aggressions out on me while I'm still available," I whispered. Besides, I'd always wanted to have angry bathroom sex with her, or rather, merely just hot hate sex. And I'd wanted it since the moment I laid eyes on her at the wedding, hence the crude remark.

For several moments, Casey appeared to contemplate this idea. Then she abruptly shook her head. "So what? Come and get it?! Is that it?" She jeered, motioning to herself. Her tone was sarcastic. I continued to stare at her in silence, making her uncomfortable. She crossed her arms over her chest, shifting awkwardly. I decided then to play dirty, brushing my fingertips over her hipbones. I pressed a kiss to her neck, moving down, flicking my tongue over the marks I'd made this morning. I was determined to leave more. She would not forget me so easily. Casey sighed, tilting her neck and burying her fingers in my hair. "Okay," She breathed.

I stopped lavishing attention on her neck, bringing my head up to look at her carefully. Her eyes were closed, but they opened as soon as she registered the lack of pressure. She frowned at me, blinking. "Why'd you stop?" She murmured softly, pouting at me. "I'm yielding here." Man, that sounds dirty. Truthfully, I couldn't quite believe she'd said she was okay with it. I wanted to know that she was sure first. So I didn't feel like I was actually raping her. She stepped back to look at me, holding my face between her hands. Her gaze darted down to my lips. Then Casey looked me straight in the eyes. She didn't quite smile, but there was something decidedly mischievous about her lips. "I agree to your terms, Venturi." Then her hands abruptly dropped down from my face, and she pushed me towards the stairs. "Now, hurry up before I change my mind," She growled.

I smirked, pulling my hands out of her tights. I gestured towards the stairs, motioning towards her. "After you, McDonald!" I replied, grinning. Casey grabbed my hand and ran up the stairs, rolling her eyes at me. Apparently she wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. She was in such haste to get in the bathroom that we scrambled in, practically running over each other. I was only running because I didn't want to waste a minute. I really wanted to prolong things because I wanted to enjoy these last few hours when she was still my girlfriend.

The minute we were both in the bathroom, I locked the door behind me. Casey flew at me, wrapping her legs around my waist, fisting her hands in my hair. She pressed me against the door, but I didn't intend to let her have all the control. I slipped out of my jacket, letting it pool on the floor, which I didn't usually do. Then I wrapped my arms around her, slowly unbuttoning her sweater. She shrugged out of her sweater, ripping off the camisole underneath it. Then I picked her up, turning her around, and pushing her against the wall.

I kissed her roughly, pushing the tights down her legs. Casey grabbed on to me like a lifeline, pulling me closer to her desperately. She leaned forward, wrapping an arm around my neck. Her quick fingers pushed my shirt up, fumbling with my jeans. I jerked down her underwear, pressing her hard into the wall. Her lipstick was honey-sticky across my face, on my cheeks, down my neck. Casey moaned. My hands went up her thighs. I slid my fingers inside, and it felt like coming home. Within a matter of minutes, I had her moaning my name. We were in too much of a hurry to even undress all the way. We rested there, leaning against the wall for a few minutes until we caught our breath.

She smiled at me.

Then I grabbed her again, stumbling over to the sink. I wanted her to remember it, and I wasn't gonna waste a single minute. I pressed her back into the sink, and Casey whined, putting her hands on my shoulders. "Derek, that hurts," She hissed, biting my lip. I winced, drawing back a little. Oh, I wanted it to hurt. I wanted it to burn.

I shrugged. "Maybe I want it that way, Casey." Casey's eyes hardened, and she pushed me off of her, looking at me like I was Satan personified. But there are far worse things I could do. The curve of her lower back was pressed into the basin of the sink. "I want you to remember." Casey asked me why she wasn't allowed to do the same thing. Frankly, I didn't care if she did or not. I was just so furious. "Shut up, Casey," I groaned, wrapping my arm around her neck and kissing her hard enough to make her forget. I bent her over backwards so that half of her was over the sink.

The sweat clinging to our skin wasn't even dry yet. My fingers slid across her back, supporting her. She was so tiny and thin sometimes that I could almost see her ribs. Actually, when she was all bent over, I could see her ribs. I ran my fingers over them slowly. Casey sighed, biting her lip. She exhaled hard, and gave me a pleading look. My self control kind of dissolved after that. This time she was shaking, and she pushed against me, pulling herself up. Her skin was inflamed. She spoke softly, "The shower, Derek." But there was no disguising the fact that her voice was a low command. I nodded.

She exhaled, relief showing all over her face. I kicked off my shoes, tugging off my socks. Next, I bent down and unzipped her boots, tossing them off to the side. Then I pulled off her tights, unzipping her skirt and letting it fall down. She pulled my shirt over my head, pulling down my pants and then my boxers. I ripped her underwear off, and then we both reached over to turn on the shower. Our hands brushed, and I tried to catch Casey's eye. She turned away and refused to look at me. Instead, she walked over to look at herself in the mirror.

My stare must've been burning right into her, but she didn't so much as turn around. Not even once. She merely fixed her hair coolly and peered at herself, frowning like she didn't like what she saw. She took a tissue and wiped off her smeared lipstick. Casey ran a hand through her hair, tousling it. Her hair was a mess of curls. I watched her make faces in the mirror while reaching into the shower to feel the heat of the water. It warmed up fast, I noticed. She was still staring at herself in the mirror, transfixed by her reflection. What charming vanity.

I walked up to Casey, grabbing her arm roughly and dragging her with me. I pulled the curtain aside, smirking. Well, come on in. The water's fine! Casey gaped at me in disbelief. I found myself put off. Why does she look at me like that with those innocent eyes when she knew all along that this was what was going to happen? Then, stepping over the edge of the tub, I motioned for Casey to join me, gently this time. I don't really get her reluctance. We did the same thing last weekend, on my birthday. Just not in the shower. She wanted it like that. What's changed since th... oh, right, Sam. Damn, I'd almost forgotten about him. For a long while Casey stayed there, unable to move.

What's her problem? We've done this three times today. Who's she kidding? I gave her a smoldering look before I reached over and picked her up, lifting her over the tub, setting her down next to me. She was heavy and staid like a statue. Too perfect, so unavailable. I bent down, pressed my lips against her shoulder, ran my fingers down her skin. Her skin felt cold and clammy. The water was warm, but not warm enough. She flinched as the water hit her skin. Her eyes were focused on the wall, and her whole body seemed to be ignoring my presence. Her indifference made me feel sick, and I wanted desperately to stop it. She was so... unresponsive.

I grabbed her hard by her upper arms, pinning her against the wall, so that the water fell on both of us. I pressed her into the wall bruisingly. Casey did not resist. I attacked her neck savagely, sucking and biting and flicking my tongue across the soft, white skin of her neck. Her pulse raced underneath my tongue, but she was frozen. I let my lips trail over her collarbone, down her chest, leaving my mark everywhere I possibly could, until my whole mouth was sore. But Casey didn't even look down. She was looking above me, an arm loosely draped around my neck. She flinched every time I made another mark. I made sure it hurt every time, too.

Her eyes were wide open, seeing everything but not really. It seemed like she was on a higher plain or something. Well, serves me right, I guess, no matter how much it pissed me off. I'd asked for her body. Not her mind, and not her heart. But she'd reacted before. I hadn't imagined that. I sighed, but it came out more like a hiss. My hands dropped to her hips, and I noticed I'd left bruises on her upper arms. They looked like angry red fingers. My grip on her hips was even firmer, stubbornly refusing to give up. Casey grimaced, but she opened her legs wider nonetheless. For a moment, I merely stared at her in surprise. Sometimes I wondered if I really did know Casey at all.

Then I moved closer to her, kissed her on the mouth again and again and again. So hard I knew it hurt. I wanted it to bleed, though. I was bleeding, at any rate, from when she'd bitten my lip earlier. My nails dug into her skin, and she wriggled a little, obviously uncomfortable. Still, she regarded me almost as an annoyance. I was just there again, right place, right time.

I'll spare you the purple prose of what happened next since I think it's rather obvious. She didn't fight me, but that was almost worse. Her eyes closed so she wouldn't have to look at me. Her knees were trembling, but other than that, she didn't move once. She just leaned against the wall and sighed raggedly and let me have my way with her. I felt cheap, dirty, and guilty. And... I don't know if I can do this. Not if she's going to be like this. There was no satisfaction in it for me. No point.

I put my hand on her lower back, turning so that her back was now against the flat wall. I pulled the curtain closed behind me, feeling breathless. I was breathing, and I knew that, but it was like I wasn't getting any oxygen. She exhaled heavily and looked somewhat relieved when she realized my touch was gentle. I placed my other hand on her hip and leaned in, putting my head on her shoulder. My nose brushed against her neck, and I inhaled her. She smelled so good it should be illegal, off-limits, forbidden. Then I sighed dreamily, closing my eyes. I moved closer, wrapping my arms around her. "I love you, Casey. More than anything," I murmured. So much it hurts.

I knew I was going to act like I didn't, after this was all over. I would be worse than before, probably, if I could even face her or speak. I'll probably lash out like a hurt animal, but she deserves it. So I had to tell her because it was the last time I really could, and certainly the last time I'd want to. But I wasn't going to stop. I'm not a faucet like she is... I can't turn my feelings on and off. Not any time soon, at least, no matter how much I'm sure I'll wish I could.

My dry, cracked lips touched her shoulder. They tingled. "I might be slightly delirious because no way I would ever say this in my right mind... And if you ever mention this again, I'll deny it..." I trailed off, somewhat dazedly, not quite realizing what I was doing. Suddenly Casey turned to look at me. Her eyes looked almost warm and definitely curious. I met her gaze, revealing all to her. "I'll always love you, Casey," I breathed. You always remember your first, and, with the way this has turned out, she'll probably be the only girl I'll ever love.

"Derek..." She muttered, putting her hand on my cheek. Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment I thought she was going to say something. But she didn't. I guess she couldn't. Instead, she merely leaned in and kissed me with all the passion that had been missing before. She felt alive again.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Or, in this case, bliss. For me, at any rate. But it was only temporary.

Around two hours later, we heard the door slam, signifying that our younger siblings were home. I helped Casey wash the rest of the shampoo out of her hair, and she practically ran out of the shower, drying off frantically. I stayed in the water, which had turned cold, staring at her. Fitting, I guess. I noticed the wide expanse of mottled skin. Her whole back looked inflamed, especially the lower parts, and I caught flashes of finger-shaped bruises across her hips and around her wrists and upper arms. Her lips were swollen, and her body was speckled by all manner of lip-sized love bites. I admired my work briefly, but looking at it too much made me feel sick.

Casey, on the other hand, was completely ignoring me. After all, she didn't owe me anything now. "Thanks, Derek! Now I'm as wrinkly as a prune!" She whined. Casey pulled on her underwear, awkwardly fastening her bra, then tugging on her skirt and the camisole. A few moments later, Casey picked up her sweater and buttoned it up all the way to the top, definitely feeling the need to cover up. She foolishly wasn't wearing a turtleneck. I let myself smirk at that, watching Casey stumble about, trying to zip up her boots. She looked like a crazy person. Then, as if that wasn't enough, Casey blew her hair dry in a rush (it was only half-dry), reapplying a fresh coat of make-up. She threw her tights into the laundry basket. Then she whirled around to shoot me a vicious look. "We keep this between us."

"Our own dirty little secret," I mumbled unhappily. Nevertheless, I nodded, miming zipping my lips. I grinned, noticing Casey's eyes drop down a little. She flushed prettily in embarrassment, and I bit my lip, thinking of what I'd be missing. I tried to remind myself that I wanted it this way. I looked her over appreciatively. "Come on, Casey... You aren't gonna seal the deal?" I teased, belying the actual distress I was feeling. Sue me for wanting to draw out a moment. Casey rolled her eyes at me, shooting me a dirty look.

Nevertheless... "With a kiss, right?" She quipped knowingly, crossing her arms over her chest. She knows me frighteningly well, I think. But Casey nodded anyways, a small smile on her face. Then she walked over to me and kissed me hard one last time. Then she patted me on the cheek and turned to leave. For my part, I slapped her ass and made her scowl at me. She left anyways, and then I was all alone with my thoughts and the ice cold water dripping down my back.

I leaned back into the water, pulling the shower curtain closed. I held my head in my hands, tormented by flashes of what had just happen. An image of how good she looked in my jacket stuck in my head. And there I was, all alone with my feelings. And I'd lost her. To Sam. I'd lost all that matters. I wouldn't go to the extent of saying something like Casey's the other half of my soul, and if I've lost her nothing else matters... but that's kind of how it feels. I leaned my head back against the wall, letting the cold water run down my body, trying to do anything but think about Casey. Unfortunately, that was all that I could seem to do.

The tears blended in with the water on my face until the only way I could tell the difference was that the tears were warmer. There's no going back now. And I let out a sigh, thinking that for as long as I live, I will never, ever forget Casey.

It's worse, too, because I live with her. So I have to watch her all the time, knowing I can never have her. And I'll have to hear Sam talking about her, and her dreamy ramblings about him. But I won't be able to say even a single word about it, or talk to anyone about how I'm feeling. I won't sink to Casey's level and seek a shrink. And there's me with no one and no outlet. Except hockey. Speaking of which, I'll think I'll get out of the shower and go practice for four or five hours at the rink, maybe. Anything so I don't have to be here and look at her. I'm just going to have to get used to Life Without Casey. I'll adapt, and I'll rise again.

I am still Derek Venturi, after all, and I'm not just gonna roll over and die because she broke my heart. Even if that's how it feels.

But it hurts.

- Loren ;

C'mon... Let's see what you think of that. ;)