"What on earth happened to you? You look dreadful." I gasped as I opened the door to my room. Derek looked half asleep dishevelled, unshaven and frankly a mess.
"Thanks. Way to make me feel good about myself." He sniped as he came through the door. He staggered over to my bed, threw down his rucksack and collapsed in a heap, face down.
"Derek?" I prompted, concerned. He sighed and propped himself up using the pillows. "Good night?" I asked sarcastically.
"No. I didn't even make it into the club. Sean tripped on his way in because he and Tigsy had been drinking in their room before they left, and smashed his face into the concrete. I ended up spending three hours in the ER with him. Then when I got him back to the dorm, Coach caught us so I had to be hauled over the coals for fifteen minutes."
At his words, I sat down heavily on the bed. I knew that one false move would have Derek shipped back to Canada. I felt a sudden chill. Was he here to say goodbye?
As if reading my mind, he shook his head.
"Sean's going back, but apparently, I showed maturity so I get to stay." He smirked.
"Is Sean okay?"
Derek shrugged. "He's probably better than me right now. He slept all night. I got to sit and watch him."
I must have look taken aback because he elaborated. "…in case of concussion, so that he didn't choke on his own vomit."
"Lovely." Sarcastic again.
He snickered, his eyes closed now.
"Coach relieved me at 6am, so I've had two hours sleep."
"You should have called. We can do this another time."
Derek shook his head. "Nah. I'll sleep it off next week. Take me while you can." He waved dismissively.
I couldn't help it. I giggled.
Derek opened a sleepy eye, a grin on his face. "You, Missy, have a dirty mind."
I leaned over. "You wish."
And yes, the flirty Casey had surfaced again.
He sat up suddenly, just missing me and we stared at each other.
"We should get going." He said quietly. "Before…"
My stupid step-sister says something else ridiculous. I filled in the blanks in my mind.
I nodded in agreement.
"A favour for me first." I qualified.
Derek raised an eyebrow.
"Shave Derek. You look like a hobo."
He chuckled. "I would have done, but I left my razor here. Tell me you didn't use it for your legs."
I stood up. "I don't shave my legs."
"Ew! Casey! Do I have an Ewok for a step-sis?"
I rolled my eyes. "No. I don't shave. I wax."
You would have thought I'd said I slept with the pope. His eyes bugged out of their sockets.
"Wax?" he asked breathlessly.
"Yes. Since I moved to London. Willow takes me with her once a month to her beautician. Not that it's any of your business." I was moving around the room now, getting ready to go out.
"Wax." Derek repeated looking rather like a goldfish.
"Yes. Moron. Wax."
"You have your legs waxed?" He questioned.
"Yes Derek…and fascinating though this is I…"
"And…other places?"
I blushed. "Well yes. My underarms as well."
Derek gulped. "What about…other other places?"
"Der-ek! I am so not discussing this with you."
He blanched then recovered quickly.
"Just curious." He singsonged, climbing off the bed and making for the bathroom.
I heard the tap running and then his head poked round the door.
"With or without a landing strip?"
"Der-ek!"
The asshole and I eventually left the building, arguing as per usual.
I hate to say it but I had actually been quite worried about him, because he looked so bad. But when he started on about the waxing, I decided there was little wrong with him and gave as good as I got.
Although I did start to wonder if Derek had concussion too, because no sooner did we step onto the sidewalk than his fingers found mine and laced our hands together. I glanced at him, but he was staring straight ahead, moaning about the British weather. Obviously this new proximity was something we weren't going to actually talk about. I liked it though, so I squeezed his hand gently. His thumb brushed the back of my hand.
We started off by getting the tube to catch a bus. I know that sounds strange but, I had learnt early on that you could see a lot of the sights of London just by catching a number 11 bus. It was a lot cheaper than a tourist bus and although we didn't get the commentary, the names of the bus stops and my little paper map and timetable gave us a clue where we were.
Derek woke up a bit on the bus and started taking pictures. We got off a couple of times and wandered around exploring. We went as far as Buckingham Palace and then took the bus back a few stops to the river.
We ate lunch in a little café near the London Eye – a massive enclosed ferris wheel which rotated slowly enough for you to get a decent view. After I had watched Derek put away an indecent volume of sausage and chips, we picked up the tickets I had pre-booked and took our places in the wheel's pod.
Derek took lots of pictures, including some of me. In fact, I think he had been taking pictures of me most of the morning. When we got to the top, however, he asked one of our fellow passengers to take a picture of us, and then surprised me when he snaked his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my hair.
"Thank you." He said quietly while we waited for his "assistant" to get the hang of the camera.
"For what?" I asked, turning my head to look at him.
The camera clicked but he never answered.
We walked along the main shopping areas of Oxford Street and Regent Street still holding hands and even bought a few things, although neither of us had much money. It was getting dark when Derek ripped the map out of my free hand and started dragging me down a side street, laughing maniacally, but he'd spotted somewhere he wanted to be: Carnaby Street.
"Come on Case. I want to see what all the fuss is about."
Derek, the "dedicated follower of fashion"? I chuckled and let him lead me down the wide street, which even now forty years after its heyday still had some weird and wonderful ground-breaking shops. Halfway down the road, we heard music and looked at each other in amazement as we came across a shop with a live band in it; people were shopping around the group, who carried on regardless.
A few doors down was a small bistro, and this time it was jazz music which issued from its depths.
I made to walk past, but Derek, still holding my hand, pulled me back.
"I'm hungry." he said, as he looked at the menu on the wall.
"You're always hungry."
"Yeah well I'm functioning on little sleep and lots of exercise here. I want to eat."
"It's central London, Derek. Food here isn't cheap."
He jerked his head to the menu. "It's not so bad. Come on. I'll treat you."
The bistro was comfortably busy but we managed to get a small corner booth, and as the waiter brought us the menu, I realised I too was quite hungry. The lighting was low, but there were small glass candle holders on the table with the type of candle designed to completely melt almost immediately. I had just enough light to read the menu card. When I had chosen a carbonara and Derek had ordered meatballs, we gave the cards back to the waiter and watched him walk away. The band started a new song.
"Well this is…" I started.
"Unexpected?" He smirked as he sipped his beer.
"I was going to say 'nice'. But, yes, 'unexpected' will do as well." I was frowning.
"Am I not allowed to take you out to dinner now?" he sounded surprised.
"I'm just trying to figure out what the catch is." My eyes widened and I leaned forward. "Show me your wallet."
"What?"
"Show me your wallet."
"Why?"
"On the table, Venturi."
Derek rolled his eyes and reached for his wallet. As soon as it hit the table, I snatched it up. I stretched it open and checked for notes. There was about a hundred pounds in Sterling. More than enough. I frowned and handed the wallet back to him.
He chuckled. "What? You think I'd pull the 'I left my wallet at home' trick?"
"Not to put too fine a point on it…yes!" I admitted.
"You have a really bad opinion of me, don't you?" He sounded slightly sad.
I coughed politely. "Born of many years practical experience." It was irrefutable.
"I don't believe this, my best friend just called me a tight wad." Derek protested.
"You are a tight wad." I stopped. "Best friend?"
He shrugged and sipped his beer again. "I don't email anyone else the way I email you."
"You only email me because three thousand miles of ocean means you can't piss me off face-to-face."
"Granted that's one of the reasons." He looked at my grimace. "Okay, a very big part. But I hardly ever see Sam anymore and Tom's on a different agenda to me. Even Ralph is a baby daddy now. You're the closest thing I have to a best friend."
Seriously, he saw us as best friends?!
"Oh how the mighty fall! You want me to scratch between my legs and belch?" I asked, grimly.
He smirked. "Only if you feel the need, honey."
I threw my napkin at him, and took a big sip from my own wine glass.
"Careful with that. You drink too much tonight you'll probably try and jump me or something later."
"Derek…honey…There is not enough alcohol in the world for me to get drunk enough to even consider jumping your bones."
"Liar!" He said, drinking more of his beer. And he thought I was getting drunk?
We stared at each other and on my part at least I was trying to work out if this was one of our usual fights or not.
The waiter placed some bread in front of us. It broke the spell which held our argument together and Derek got up and made his way to the bathroom. I got the impression he was pissed at me for some reason.
When he returned he said nothing, the food had been delivered while he was gone and he just ate.
"Derek?" I asked softly.
"What?"
"Are you okay?"
"I'm tired Casey. I was up all night, remember?" Yup. He was upset. I bit my lip. This was just one of the many problems between me and my step-brother. We fell from play fighting to real fighting so easily.
I shuffled closer to him and nudged him.
"Couldn't fit through the toilet window, eh?"
He frowned, a confused smile on his lips.
"I call you out on the wallet business, so you try to do a runner, only to find you can't fit through the hole."
"You're scary, you know that?" He said, smirking.
"The way I can read your mind?"
"That, the way you jump topics... and a few other things."
"Like?" And we were serious again.
"You make me…You're just…Scary." He mumbled.
"Thanks for the flattery."
We ate in silence for a while. Then he surprised me with honesty.
"I just wanted to take you out to dinner."
After the meal, we decided to go home. Derek was shattered and I had to nudge him while we were on the underground to keep him awake. He smiled, slid an arm around my shoulders, and buried his face in my hair, trying to hide the fact he was drifting off again. When we left the tube and started the short walk to my building, it was me dragging him along by the hand.
Derek was asleep before I even got into bed that night. It was still early, but the walking around had tired me too so rather than leave the room or reading, I climbed into bed and turned out the light.
No sooner had my head hit the pillow, however, than the usual arm curled around me drawing me closer.
"Casey?" A sleepy voice whispered in my ear.
"Hmm?" I replied, also sleepily.
"What the hell are you wearing?
AN: This is chapter 29, and I have mocked up a plan which has this story lasting to 40 chapters. I might not get this particular chapter out in one day as I've spent most of the morning writing one of the middle chapters.
(I've also spend most of the morning crying over that later chapter…I swear when I picked Daniel up from Nursery they thought someone had died!).
Can I just point out to anyone who is ever offended by references I make in passing to God, Christianity and the Catholic faith (see last chapter) that I mean no offence. Over the years I have discovered that the Catholics are very good at laughing at themselves – I should know I am one.
