AN: Thank you so much for reading! Comments and feedback greatly appreciated!
I'm never drinking again.
I hurt when I wake up the next morning in an unknown bed, fully dressed in jeans and Sarah's ridiculous backless top, smelling of vomit.
I'm about to panic when I hear Derek's voice coming from outside the closed bedroom door. He's talking to someone, a girl. The words are indistinct, but the sound of his voice is unmistakable, and I realize the bed smells like him too. I breathe a sigh of relief. I vaguely remember he brought me home after I threw up last night. How mortifying.
Almost as mortifying as last night, before I vomited. I cringe.
I threw myself into his arms and he responded by reminding me that we're step siblings. And then he called us friends. It's okay it's okay it's okay. Nothing to panic about. I was drunk. It was no big deal. Any guy and any girl, step siblings or not, would dance together when drunk at a party. That's all it was. Just. Dancing.
He said we can be friends. Which is what I want too. Friends is a good thing. Definitely a good thing.
I get out of bed with a groan. My head is pounding and I'm so nauseous I'm afraid I might vomit again. There's a glass of water on the nightstand. The sight of it vaguely brings back a memory of Derek making me drink water last night before I passed out. I sip at the cup, and feel marginally better.
There's no way I'm facing Derek in this shirt, now with little flecks of vomit on it. It's beyond disgusting. I definitely owe Sarah a new shirt.
I dig around in Derek's drawers. Luckily his room is organized the same as it is at home. If you can call what he does organization. The tshirts are unfolded in a messy pile in the top drawer of his dresser. They smell clean at least. I find one that's black with a pattern on the front, to hide my braless state.
I pull my hair back into a ponytail, take a deep breath, and open the door to find him.
It'll be okay. There's nothing to be upset about. We're friends now. Friends. That's good. It is.
"Casey!" Sarah greets me happily when I walk into the kitchen.
Wait. Sarah is here? She's wearing last night's clothes and there's still some smeared mascara under her eyes, but other than that she looks good. Not nearly as hungover as I am. She gets up from where she's sitting at the table and gives me a hug.
"Hey Case," Derek says casually. He's standing at the stove. Cooking. "Glad you helped yourself to my personal property," he says drily, eyes flicking briefly to his shirt.
I ignore his comment and stare at him as I return Sarah's hug. What is happening? Why is she here? Did she spend the night? Is he cooking breakfast for her?
It's okay. He and I are friends. Sarah is my friend. It's good. I'm happy. I'm thrilled.
"Hey guys!" My voice is overly cheerful and way too high. It makes my hangover worse.
"Whoa," Derek says, turning away from the stove with a pan of scrambled eggs in hand. "Someone's feeling better. Want some eggs?" He brings the pan of eggs to the table and hands me a plate with some toast on it.
I'm staring, I know I'm staring, but what is happening right now?
He laughs. "Casey, close your mouth, sit down and eat. I've been away from home for months. I can cook eggs now. It's not a big deal."
I'm pretty sure it's a huge deal that he just cooked, and is now serving me breakfast. But Sarah's eating too, and I realize this is probably all for her.
"Thanks!" I say. It's overly perky again, but I can't seem to manage a normal tone.
The food is actually pretty good. I thought it would make my hangover worse, but I feel marginally better.
Sarah and Derek chat casually about the party as we eat. I'm too hungover to contribute much, especially since I don't remember much of last night. They don't seem to notice my silence though. It's obvious they really get along.
Which is great. Really.
At some point Sarah gets up and starts to do dishes.
"Oh, don't worry about the dishes," Derek says. "You're a guest."
Who is he right now?
"Casey will do them."
Right. That's the Derek I know.
"Der-ek!" I yell. "That is so rude! I'm a guest too!"
"You're not a guest," he says, smirking at me. "You lost guest privileges when I spent the morning cleaning up your vomit."
He did what?
"Oh my god," I'm so mortified I can barely get it out. "I'm so sorry! Why did you do that? I would've done it. I can do it now. Ohmygod I'm so sorry."
"Relax, Case," he cuts me off. "I knew you would sleep in and I wanted to clean it up before it got too smelly. It wasn't a big deal. It's not even the first time I've cleaned vomit off of that carpet."
Is Derek really not making a huge deal out of doing me a gigantic favor? He either is really taking this 'friends' thing to heart, or his personality has completely changed in four months.
"You can make it up to me by baking me cookies," he says with a cocky grin.
I laugh, because asking for something in return is so him and it puts me at ease again. "Okay," I say. "I'll make you cookies. It's the least I can do. I'll make some for whoever's house that was last night too."
"Ugh, don't," Derek says. "Michael and Ryan are the worst. They don't need cookies."
I know Michael is his best friend at college. I recognize the name from his texts. "I'm making them cookies," I say firmly.
"Well, I should get more than them, since I'm the one that cleaned it up. I should get a home cooked dinner too." His expression is weirdly intense for the lightness of the conversation. I recognize that look as his competitive look, usually reserved for hockey games, music competitions, and prank wars.
"Sure," I say hesitantly. He's being so weird, I can't keep up.
He nods with satisfaction.
It's just friendship, I guess. We're friends. We're friends. It's great.
"Well don't worry about the dishes, Casey," Sarah says, coming back to the table with a grin. "I finished them already."
Oops.
She laughs at my expression. "There were hardly any."
"What are you girls doing for the rest of today?" Derek changes the subject.
I groan. I'm still so hungover, but I have a lot to do today. "This morning, I have to run to the store to get some last minute school supplies, and this afternoon I have to study," I answer.
"Case, it's already 2PM."
My heart stops. "What?" How did I sleep so long. It can't be that late. It can't.
"Why do you need to study?" Sarah asks. "School hasn't started yet."
Derek laughs in that overly loud way that I hate. "You clearly don't know Casey very well," he says. "She studies on the first day of summer break."
"I do not!" I protest, but I'm not really listening. My mind is racing with panic. Why did I get so drunk last night? There's no way I'm going to be prepared for the first day of school tomorrow. And now I promised to make cookies too. What am I going to do?
My first day, no scratch that, my first week of college is completely ruined. And this is after I already made the colossal mistake of putting off my education to go to New York. To follow a boy. Or was it to escape a boy? I don't even know anymore. My head hurts so badly.
"Casey!" Derek yells, and I realize vaguely that he's already said my name a few times. He's right in front of me with his hands on my shoulders. "Case, calm down," he says firmly. "It's going to be okay. You don't need to study."
"Easy for you to say!" I protest. "You're not the one that wasted a semester dancing for a show that never even opened!"
"It wasn't a waste. You had a dream, you followed it. College didn't go anywhere. It's right here. You're not behind. You don't need to study, because class hasn't started yet. You don't even know what your classes are going to focus on."
Is he right? For a second I feel better. "But-"
"Case!" he cuts me off. "You're stressing yourself out! You. Need. To. Re. Lax."
I stare at him. I don't know how to relax. "But-"
"Here's what we're going to do," He squeezes my shoulders gently. "First, you're going to shower, because you reek of alcohol."
"Der-ek!"
"Then I'm taking you to the store. We're going to buy whatever supplies you think you need, but really don't." Is it weird that he's still holding my shoulders? Or is that what friends do?
"You're going to get flour and chocolate chips and whatever you need to make me cookies. Then we're coming back here, and you're making me cookies. And not studying." The warm weight of his hands is distracting.
"Okay?" He asks.
It sounds so simple when he lays it all out like that. Maybe he's right and it's okay that I missed my first semester. I take a deep breath and force my thoughts away from how the casual strength of his hands makes me feel delicate.
"Okay," I agree.
Sarah tries to go home, but I beg her to come. I need her to stay with us, even if it makes me feel like someone kicked me in the stomach when she talks to him. It's good for me to see them together. Because I still don't know what it means to be friends with my step brother.
I wonder if she saw us dancing last night. I don't want to know what she thinks.
She caves eventually and with her as a continued buffer, we actually have a lot of fun at the store. It's easier not to fall into our old bickering when she's around. And easier to remember what a friendship is.
"Why do you need so many notebooks?" Derek whines as he helps me carry my stuff in.
"Just one per class," I answer absently, getting out the ingredients for cookies.
Michael and Ryan invited us all over for spaghetti. I'm embarrassed to face them after I vomited on their living room floor but it'll be nice to at least have cookies to bring over.
"Casey, there's nine notebooks here."
"One's just a lab," I explain.
"Casey! You can't take eight classes! What are you thinking?"
"I need to catch up," I snap at him. "I missed a semester!"
Derek stares at me with his mouth open. "I know you're a keener, but this is too much, even for you. I took four classes last semester. If you take one extra class every other semester, you'll graduate with me. Why are you trying to take them all at once?"
"It's better to front load them," I say with as much authority as I can muster. It's not as though I haven't thought this through. "I'm still undecided on my major, I need to figure out quickly what I like so I don't waste time on credits that don't go towards graduation!"
"Casey, Casey, Casey," Derek scolds. "Don't you know that college isn't about class and credits? It's about making friends and partying!"
"Derek! You would say that! You're such an irresponsible…" I stop myself from saying jerk because he hasn't actually been a jerk to me since I got here. The opposite of that actually. My sentence hangs weirdly in the air because I don't know how to finish my accusation. Irresponsible… person?
Derek turns to Sarah as though he doesn't notice my trailing admonishment. "Please back me up on this. She's gonna burn out and be no fun."
Sarah looks at me hesitantly. "It does seem like a lot for one semester, Casey. You don't have to catch up all at once. Don't you want to have time to hang out and make friends? I thought you were gonna be my wing woman!"
"It'll be fine," I assure them. "I might not have a ton of time to party, but it'll be worth it when I'm all caught up!"
Sarah gives me a worried look and Derek shakes his head. "You're making a mistake," he says. "But I'll convince you to drop some classes later. Right now, I want cookies."
Dinner is super fun. The boys have this engaging rapport, and they bring Sarah and I into it with easy laughter.
Michael is a hot blonde. There's no real other way to put it. He looks like a young Brad Pitt, and doesn't seem interested in anything beyond hockey and partying. He flirts shamelessly with Sarah, but I think she likes it, because I notice her blushing every now and then.
Ryan is quieter, but has a ready smile. He's an Econ major, something I'm considering, and he promises to let me pick his brain about the best classes and professors.
I look every now and then at Derek, sitting across from me. He's smiling and seems completely happy and relaxed. He really likes these guys and his life here. I could tell, from his texts, but it's different to actually see it.
It hits me suddenly that he and I are in the same situation as we were in high school. He's the established one at this school. He's an athlete, he gets invited to parties, he has friends. I'm the newcomer, behind already, freaking out about classes and missing out.
But this is a complete 180 from high school. I wonder why it's so different this time around. Instead of labeling me Klutzilla, he's brought me into his fold. He's helping me make friends and showing me around.
This, somehow, feels so much more natural than high school. Everything about our dynamic in high school felt forced. We sat across from each other at the dining room table, just like we are now, thousands of times before, but this is different. Even though I love our family dinners more than anything in the world, they never felt easy.
But this here, sitting around with his friends, eating spaghetti and cookies, it feels right.
He catches me looking at him and smiles. It's the easy smile of a good friend, and it hits me; that's what's different.
He was right last night, after all. Here, we don't have to be step siblings. We can be friends.
For the first time all day, I actually believe it when I tell myself that's a good thing.