Of everything that happened, the thing I can't get over is the fact that Derek wants to talk. Derek. Venturi. Talking. About Feelings.

Everytime I think about what happened, I keep circling back to that. We'll talk when I get back.

The thing is, I don't want to talk. When I think about talking to him, I feel like I can't breathe properly.

I mean, what is there to talk about? The fact that we're step siblings? The fact that we share a brother?

Or maybe we can discuss how disastrous it would be if we pursue this and it falls apart and we can't be in the same room together, but have to spend the rest of our lives in rooms together anyway because we are literally already family.

Or perhaps we should make a game plan, if we're being optimistic and assuming things will go well, for one day telling our parents, who are married to each other , that we're dating. It definitely sounds like fun to hash that out.

But this is Derek. There's no way he wants to talk about any of those things.

So I keep circling back to it, because if he doesn't want to talk about those things, and I know he doesn't. Then he wants to talk about how it was a mistake.

Which it was. It definitely was. I know it was. I knew it as it was happening, for all the reasons above.

He probably wants to tell me it was a mistake and that he didn't mean anything by it, and really any guy would respond to a girl practically throwing herself at him, while lying in a bed no less. That's probably why he apologized and said it got out of hand.

He probably wants us to forget it ever happened. Just move on, and chalk it up to a youthful college mistake. Something to laugh about thirty years from now.

And I agree with him. I think that's what we should do too.

But I don't want to talk about it.

He sends me a text later that night. Just arrived. The hotel sucks. Nervous for tomorrow. Did you drop your classes?

It's not weird. We always text throughout the week. We've texted at least a few times a week since I left for New York. Especially the night before his games, we usually text most of the night to distract him from his nerves until he falls asleep.

So really, it would be weirder if he didn't text.

But I don't know how to respond.

I think about saying yes I dropped them, but then I'd have to also say thanks for helping me, and that calls to mind how I thanked him originally for that, and. Cringe.

I want to ask more about the hotel, or ask who he's rooming with this time, or tell him he'll do great tomorrow. Those are all things I've said before.

But I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to start chatting and find myself in a conversation with him, where anything could come up.

Like the fact that we kissed this morning.

Or that I know now what his body feels like against mine.

Or that he's kissed my nipples.

Or that I felt his erection pressed against me and I wanted more.

So we can't talk.

I spend all night thinking about it, and at 1AM, when I'm sure he must be sleeping, I eventually respond. Good luck.

Thanks. He responds back immediately.

I hide my phone and don't look at it again until morning.

I spend all of Saturday in the library. I don't actually need to, strictly speaking. I redid my study schedule on Friday after I dropped my classes, and my new course load is very manageable. I don't have to study most Saturdays, unless there's an exam coming up.

But I got to thinking about Sarah, and those texts she had from Derek.

I can admit, I was a little annoyed with her. A little… jealous. Maybe. But when I really think about it, I'm the one that's being a bad friend to her now. I knew they were texting, and I made a move on him anyway.

I don't know if she'll be upset. I don't know how much she likes him. I doubt Derek would've kissed me back if things were actually getting serious between them. But I still feel bad. If she was starting to develop feelings, then what I did was not very nice.

And what if she asks me where he and I stand now? I don't have an answer. I don't want her to feel like she has to back off, if it was just some one time youthful college mistake. Which it was.

She texts me around seven, begging me to stop studying and come out to a party with her.

I decline. Politely.

She asks if I want to do a girls night in, instead.

She's too nice. The guilt is crushing me.

I exaggerate how much work I have and decline again.

I spend the next three hours in the library, killing time, until it closes. Luckily, she's gone when I get home, so I lie in bed and pretend to sleep.

It's Thursday, and I've managed to avoid both Derek and Sarah all week.

Derek texted when he got back, asking if I wanted to grab dinner but I told him I was too busy. He texted again on Monday, and I waited a day to respond that I already had plans for the rest of the week. He stopped texting me after that.

Sarah is harder to avoid, but I know her schedule well enough that if I just don't spend much time in our room, I don't ever run into her.

I try to tell myself I'm not miserable, but… I am.

I have a few acquaintances from classes. There's a girl in my literature class I really like, and we've had lunch together a few times.

But the truth is, without both Derek and Sarah, my life kind of sucks. I almost wish I hadn't dropped those classes after all. Then I'd be too busy and tired to notice how lonely I am.

Sarah usually goes to bed around eleven, so I've been coming home at midnight, to make sure I miss her. When I sneak in Thursday night, the lights are still on, and she's sitting on our futon watching tv.

"Hey!" I say, as cheerily as I can. "You're still up!"

She turns the TV off and turns around to look at me. "Hey," she says quietly. Her expression is really serious, almost sad. My insides are squirming.

"Well, it's late," I say. It sounds too loud now that the TV is off. "I'd better get to bed."

"Casey," she says, standing up. "Casey, wait. I… I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh," I say. "Sure, what's up?"

"I just wanted to ask you, did I do something?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, it feels like you're avoiding me. I know you're busy, and studying a lot. But, it seems like more than that. And I just wanted to say, I'm sorry. If I upset you. I know I was being pushy about you dropping those classes, and if you don't want to, that's fine. I support you. I just, I shouldn't have butted in and I'm sorry."

I stare at her. She is apologizing to me? When I'm the one who made out with her crush and then avoided her all week instead of telling her? I'm officially the worst friend of all time.

To my utter mortification, I feel this pressure start behind my eyes, and my face starts to flush.

"Oh god," I say, as tears build up. "It's not that! You were right, I needed to drop some classes. Derek helped me, and I've got my course load down to five classes now."

"Oh," she says. "Well, that's good…" she trails off awkwardly.

"It's not you!" I burst out. "It's me. I've been avoiding you because of something I did! I'm so sorry!"

"Oh!" she looks at me in surprise. Her brow furrows slightly. "But, I'm not upset with you at all. What did you do?"

"I made out with Derek!" I bury my face in my hands. I can't look at her.

"You what?!" She lets out an excited squeal. "Tell me everything!" She doesn't sound upset.

I peek at her through my hands.

She's grinning at me, her eyes are shining with happiness. She's bouncing a little in place. She doesn't look upset either.

"You're not… mad?"

She frowns. "Why would I be mad? Casey, why are you avoiding me because you made out with Derek?"

My face is turning bright red, and I think maybe I was way off base. She doesn't look like someone who just found out her roommate made out with her crush.

"I… umm. I thought you maybe liked each other."

"WHAT?!" The shocked outrage on her face is genuine. "WHY would you think that?"

She's looking at me with this really indignant expression, and all of a sudden I feel like an idiot. There's no way she has any kind of crush on him.

"I realize, right now, in this very moment, that I was being stupid and paranoid, but I knew you guys were texting, and I just thought that, you know. Maybe there was something there. Because you're so pretty and amazing, and I was jealous. I'm so ashamed," I wail.

She stares at me with her jaw dropped. "Casey," she says finally, after what feels like a full minute of staring. "Casey. You're an idiot!"

She takes a deep breath and glares at me. "I know you said you thought he liked me, when I teased you about him that first night we got dinner together. But I didn't think you were actually serious. I thought you were just embarrassed and deflecting," she scolds me.

"Let me clear this up, right now, so we never have this misunderstanding again. I don't like Derek. Derek doesn't like me. Our texts are always about you. 95% of any conversation we've ever had has been about you. The only reason we're friends is because we both care about you ."

"I'm so sor-"

"I'm not done," she holds up a hand to cut me off. "Even if I liked him, I would never ever act on it, because you're clearly in love with him."

"I'm not-"

"Still not done," she cuts me off again. "Even if I were a terrible friend, and made a move on him despite that, he would never respond, because he is clearly in love with you."

She pauses. "No protest? Good. Now listen carefully. There is no way, in this lifetime, on this planet, that Derek and I will ever like each other romantically. You never. Ever. Have to worry about that."

I drop my face in my hands again. I can't look at her. I'm so embarrassed.

"Casey," she says more gently, walking up to me. "Give me a hug, you dummy."

"I'm sorry I freaked out! I always freak out about anything related to Derek," I mumble as I hug her.

"I can't believe you've been avoiding me all week because of this," she grumbles. "Also, I realize your judgement goes out the window the second Derek's name gets mentioned, but you know you're gorgeous and amazing, right? And that even if we were competing for the same guy, you'd easily be able to win him over if you really liked him."

I squeeze her tighter. "You're the best," I say softly. "I'm sorry I'm such an idiot."

"You're forgiven," she says with a sigh. "You and Derek, I swear. From what I can tell, you should've been with him since you were fifteen! What are you so afraid of?"

This is my chance to clear the air. I should definitely tell her we're step siblings. She's quickly becoming my best friend. Best friends meet each other's families. She's gonna find out. The longer I go without telling her, the weirder it will be.

"Our families are really close," I say instead of telling her the truth. "It's… a lot more complicated than just liking him."

"Ha!" She says triumphantly. "At least I got you to admit you like him! Now tell me everything!"

I want to protest. I'm not actually sure I like him. But I can't deny that there's… something.

I tell her about the kiss, blushing a little when she exclaims over us making out in a bed.

"But he wants to talk, Sarah," I whine. "He said we would talk."

"What's wrong with that?"

"It's gonna be so awkward. He'll tell me it was a mistake. We don't need to talk to know that!"

"He's definitely not going to say it was a mistake."

"How do you know?"

She rolls her eyes at me. "I can't keep saying this. Casey. He wants you. Bad. It's painful to watch."

I shake my head at her. A huge part of me desperately wants to believe her but I can't reconcile what she's saying with what I know of Derek. And she doesn't have the whole picture. She doesn't know we're step siblings.

"Look Casey," she sighs. "You don't have to talk to him. Guys almost never want to talk. He probably just said that cus he thought it would make you happy. He'll be thrilled if you do some more of the "not talking" you did last week in your bed," she winks at me.

I blush.

"Michael's having a party again tomorrow. They have a bye week so they're going to be partying all weekend. We can go to the party. You can find Derek and "not talk" to him. Just don't get too drunk this time."

I hesitate. I'm not sure what I should do. I do want to go to another party and actually enjoy it this time. And I can't avoid Derek forever. Making out with him was definitely a mistake, but I don't have to "not talk" to him again. Ugh, since when did not talking become a euphemism?

"Okay…" I say. "But you don't get to pick my shirt this time."

She claps her hands. "Deal," she agrees.

"So…" I change the subject slyly. I'm tired of being in the hot seat. "Sounds like you've been talking to Michael," I say, and wiggle my brows at her. I get the pleasure of watching her blush, for once.