A/N: I wasnt actually planning to do a Derek POV, but this felt like it needed to be written, Derek's voice was begging to come out heh. Hope you enjoy, thanks for reading! Feedback very welcome.
I know inviting her to the party was a bad idea. Despite what she thinks, I'm not a complete idiot. I can do basic math and I know that Me Alcohol Casey = A Very Bad Idea.
Seeing her again after months apart was like being hit by a sledgehammer. No matter how much I prepared, it was impossible to brace myself enough for that.
Has she really always been that beautiful? I don't know how I survived high school. That craving-self loathing-desperation feeling is back. I didn't miss it.
And why the fuck didn't she tell her roommate we're step siblings? It would be a little easier to keep my hands to myself, to keep her in her "family" box, to just stop fucking wanting her so badly, if people knew.
The easiest solution would be to stay away from her. But that's impossible, now that she's here at Queens. I can't even pretend to attempt it.
When she was in New York, life didn't feel real. It felt like I was just going through the motions, waiting for real life to start again.
I wanted her to love New York. To stay there. To be happy with Jessie (although come on, give me a god damn break, anyone could've seen that it was going to fail with that douchebag). But while she was there, my world was colorless.
Seeing in color again is painful.
I'm sitting in Michael's room, avoiding the party, not allowing myself to get too drunk because god knows what I'll do if I drink too much. Fuck. I really shouldn't have invited her.
I check my phone. She texted a few minutes ago that she arrived. Shit. I'd better go find her before one of my teammates starts hitting on her. The last thing I need is a repeat of the Sam Situation. That almost killed me.
The party is annoyingly loud and dark. I weave my way through the rooms, looking for her.
"Dude," Michael calls out to me and slings an arm around my shoulders. He's one of my favorite team mates, even though he's an idiot and spends most of his time trying to get laid. "Did you invite those two girls dancing on the table? Well done froshie. Which one do you have dibs on? I really hope it's the blonde, cus that brunette girl can dance, if you know what I mean."
I look to where he's pointing and my jaw drops. It's Casey. I would recognize her anywhere, but I almost don't believe what I see. She's facing away from me, dancing barefoot on the dining room table. In a barely there backless top and skintight pants. And she is clearly drunk.
"Dibs on the brunette," I barely remember to yell back at Michael as I practically sprint to the table. Stay the fuck away from her.
As I get closer, she turns and it's the sledgehammer all over again except worse this time because she's smiling and so fucking beautiful I can't breathe. I could stare at her for hours.
"Casey!" I yell, as I get close. She looks down with a confused frown for a few seconds before she sees me. Shit. She's not just drunk, she's trashed.
"Dereeeekkkkkkkkkkkk," she slurs, beaming at me drunkenly. I can see the sharp points of her nipples through her thin shirt. She's not wearing a bra.
Fuck fuck fuck.
Is she trying to kill me? She must really be trying to find a Jessie rebound tonight but does she have to do it right in front of me? It's cruel. She has to have some small inkling of how I feel. I'm not that good of an actor.
She stumbles off the table and I barely manage to catch her.
"Easy, Casey," I mutter, trying to balance her. I let go immediately because she's not fucking wearing a bra and I'm not made of stone.
She stumbles as soon as I let go and I have to slip my arms around her again, just to hold her upright. "Jesus, how much did you drink Princess?" I try for sarcastic but it comes out like an endearment. At least she's too drunk to notice.
She burrows against me, pulling me close, and fuck that backless top is going to kill me. Without my permission, my palms press against her flawless skin, desperate to touch her. For some reason she doesn't push me away. The muscles in her back arch and flex as she sways against me in time to the music.
This is some special sort of hell.
Or maybe it's heaven. It certainly doesn't feel like reality. She's in my arms, literally licking my neck and it's more than Ive ever dreamed of. My body pulses with want, and it takes everything in me not to push her against the wall, cage her in my arms, grind against her.
How drunk is she? Does she even know it's me, or am I just a warm body right now?
In all the years I've tortured myself, I never dared to dream that she might want me back. I was furious that I couldn't make a move, couldn't make her see how good it could be. I was family zoned before I ever had a chance.
But is it possible she felt it too?
I have to know.
"You didn't tell your roommate we're step siblings." What am I even saying? Why did I start with that? My heart is pounding.
She jerks back from me, as though I splashed cold water on her. The dazed happy drunk expression is gone, and she looks at me nervously.
Fuck. She knows. She knows how I feel. Shes probably always known. She's always been careful to create distance between us, whenever I'm edging too close to the line.
I'm an idiot. I already knew she doesn't feel what I do.
Same difference.
She couldn't have said it any clearer, all those months ago. Standing in our kitchen, her eyes lit with good humor, looking so fucking cute my heart ached. All I could think about was leaning in, capturing her lips with mine. I almost did it. I was a moment away from it when she called me her brother.
I snap myself back to the present, where she stares at me with panic in her eyes. I have to fix this. She's terrified I'm going to confess my feelings and ruin everything.
I force myself to keep talking.
"Relax Case," I say. "I know why you didn't." I force a cocky smirk. I can do this. I can do this.
"You do?"
"It's the same reason I didn't tell anyone." It's really fucking not.
"You never wanted me to be your step brother. Neither of us wanted to be step siblings." This much, atleast, I know is true. For both of us, if for different reasons.
I keep going, pushing forward with this inane lie. "Forced to live together, forced to share. Step siblings fight constantly. When you went to New York, I realized we don't have to be step siblings anymore. We can be friends."
She stares at me. Is she relieved? Say something Casey. Damn it. Please.
"Like… a clean slate?" She finally asks.
"Exactly!" I'm so relieved that she accepted it, I smirk a little. "Not that I won't still prank you occasionally," I add. Because she can't possibly expect me to just leave her alone. I can push it all away, I can be her friend, I can keep it platonic, I can. But I can't stay away, and I don't want her to ask me to.
As if I needed any more confirmation that I was just a warm body and that she's really fucking drunk, she turns away and spews all over the floor.
I sigh. Michael is definitely going to make me clean this up tomorrow. And some got on my shoes.
Sarah comes bursting out of nowhere to hold back Casey's hair and for some reason glare at me. As though I'm the one who got her drunk.
"Alright," I say tiredly, when it seems like Casey's done. I lean down and sling her arm over my shoulder, propping her up. "Case, party's over. I'm taking you home."
"I'll take her home," Sarah says.
I shake my head and keep walking towards the door, towing Casey along. She's stumbling and muttering under her breath but I can't catch any of it. I'd feel bad for her if I weren't also really pissed off at her for getting so drunk. For getting my hopes up. For pressing against me and kissing my neck. I can still feel her lips there. I'll never be able to burn that memory from my brain.
Sarah follows carrying shoes that I assume are Casey's. "I'll take her back," she says again. "Let me call a cab."
She seems nice enough but I don't really know her from Adam, and there's no way I'm letting some stranger take care of Casey when she's this drunk. She could vomit in her sleep and die like they warned us about during freshman orientation.
"It's okay," I say. "I live two doors down." I opted to live in off campus housing with a bunch of my teammates. Most of the team lives on this block.
"Umm, no," Sarah says.
Huh? I turn to look at her, raising a brow.
"No offense but I don't really know you," she echoes my thoughts. "Im sure you're a great friend but you're still a guy. And I'm not letting you take her to some frat house," she says firmly. "I'm taking her home."
I almost laugh. This chick doesn't know I'm Casey's step brother. Practically her brother. The thought is so abhorrent, I almost vomit myself. But to Casey, it's the same difference.
"You can come with," I say. "But I'm not letting her out of my sight until I'm sure she's okay."
She opens her mouth to protest and I raise a brow and cut her off. "I'm not the one that got her this drunk. Didn't she tell you it's her first college party? Did you not warn her about the punch?"
She blushes and has the grace to look ashamed.
"It's not Sarah's fault," Casey slurs next to me. "My fault." She slumps against me with a groan, as though talking completely zapped whatever energy she had mustered up.
"You're still coming home with me Princess," I say softly, squeezing her shoulder lightly. I can't get it to stop sounding like an endearment. I'm gonna have to stop saying it. Thank god she's drunk.
Sarah comes over too. She seems like a good friend, even though they can't have known each other long, she seems like she really cares. Im glad Casey finally has someone real in her corner. Much better than Emily, who was too insecure to be a good friend.
I'm a little embarrassed by the dirty laundry scattered around my floor. I try to pick it up but Sarah makes a placating gesture as she settles herself next to Casey, who's already passed out on my bed. "It's really not bad. This is way cleaner than my brother's room." I flinch involuntarily. There's that word again. Brother. Why is she comparing me to her brother? She doesn't even know.
I feel like yelling in frustration, Casey's lips still branded against my neck.
I don't though. Instead I grab them both a glass of water, drag one of the living room futons into my room, and pretend to pass out. This night has sucked majorly.
Sarah must've been pretty drunk too because she starts snoring within thirty seconds. I'm relieved to finally be alone. Sarah has this way of looking at me when I'm looking at Casey. I think she knows how gone I am.
I watch Casey breathe, to make sure she doesn't vomit in her sleep. And to get used to the sight of her again. I can't keep being sucker punched when I see her. She'll figure it out if I walk around like a jackass that constantly can't breathe because of how fucking gorgeous she is. I'm positive if she ever finds out how deep it runs, she'll push me out of her life for my own good. I can't stand the thought.
I look at her and convince myself all over again that it's impossible. I never had a shot. Im her step brother. Even if no one here knows.