Author's Note (Part I):
On a whim, I watched Before Sunrise earlier this year. The serenity of that film inspired me, so I tried to recreate the same tone with a Dasey meet-cute story. You may notice some slightly out-of-character behavior; both characters are in their late twenties, so they've clearly had time to grow and change. I started writing this back in July, but I didn't finish it until recently. I hope you enjoy it.
Champagne and Strawberry Delights
"Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home." – Edith Sitwell
The banquet hall at Stevenson Manor buzzed with activity and holiday cheer. The usual din associated with events of this size was eclipsed by soft, alluring jazz. The melodies drifted in and around the room, instantly relaxing the guests.
The waitstaff, dressed smartly in crisp white shirts, burgundy ties, and black trousers with matching waistcoats, flitted among the guests, carrying trays filled with glasses of Dom Pérignon 2006 Roséand plates of delectable hors d'oeuvres. Evidently, they had received proper training, for they were courteous, unobtrusive, and quick on their feet whenever a guest needed to discard or replace their empty glass or plate.
The guests – all graduate students and doctoral candidates from various programs at Columbia University and New York University – mingled easily, chatting, laughing, and enjoying the festivities. The gentlemen looked dashing in their tailored suits, while the ladies dazzled in their evening gowns.
For many of the guests, donning formal attire was a bit of an unusual experience since most tended to lounge in jeans, hooded sweatshirts, and sneakers while they attended lectures and acted as research or teaching fellows. However, this event, detailed in calligraphy on gold-leaf invitations, required that all attending guests dress for a black-tie occasion. Cordelia and Marcus Stevenson – the wealthiest graduate students at Columbia and the hosts of this year's holiday bash – wouldn't have it any other way. From the clothes they wore, to the vehicles they drove, to the meals and beverages they consumed, they lived and breathed luxury. It was only natural that their event would exude the same elegance and refinement they displayed on a daily basis.
Despite the grandeur of the setting, the atmosphere felt welcoming. Perhaps it was because of the music, or the refreshments, or the fact that the intimidating, marble hall had been softened by holiday decorations. Lush green garland, complete with scarlet ribbons and glimmering lights, adorned the walls. An enormous Christmas tree, artfully strewn with Swarovski crystals, stood proudly in a corner. Even a crackling fire, sheltered in a hearth, created a sense of warmth and ease.
The coziest spot of the hall happened to be the farthest corner from the entrance. In that corner was a sizeable windowsill – a perfect place to sit and observe the splendor and pageantry of the evening. And that's exactly what Casey McDonald was doing.
Perched on the windowsill, in a crimson velvet dress and sensible black heels, she quietly took note of who was there, who they interacted with, and what topics they chose to discuss.
While her eyes surveyed her surroundings, she sipped lightly from her glass of champagne, savoring the seductive, rich flavor that bloomed across her tongue. Notes of black cherry and spice lingered, leaving a pleasant taste in her mouth.
It was, without a doubt, the best sparkling wine she'd ever had. The Stevensons, for all their boastful behavior, really were knowledgeable about the finer things in life, including the selection of a delightful champagne.
Currently, it was the only thing keeping her at this celebration. Otherwise, she would have collected her coat and left long ago. The truth was, as much as she appreciated the ambiance, she felt entirely out of place.
Extravagant social gatherings had never been a favorite of hers, even though had endured many of them over the years. Ever since her move from Toronto to New York City, she had attended nearly all her father's law firm's large-scale events. In the beginning, she relished the opulent atmosphere, but quickly learned how exhausting it was to socialize with pretentious attorneys and their spouses. Just because she played her part flawlessly – the demure daughter of a powerful prosecutor – it didn't mean that she enjoyed it. In fact, she loathed it. Of course, being the people pleaser that she was, she simply couldn't refuse any invitations or requests to make an appearance.
It wasn't until recently that she decided enough was enough. After yet another detestable law firm sponsored event, she called her younger sister, Lizzie, to vent. Lizzie – the rational, level-headed person that she was – had been on Casey's side, giving her valuable advice and pushing her to finally act. A week later, she worked up the courage to start declining invitations. The rush of guilt she expected to feel never came. Instead, all she felt was relief at turning away from the idyllic image that she had spent so long crafting and perfecting for her father and his colleagues.
Despite her distaste for these types of events, she chose to accept the invitation to the Stevensons' Christmas party. It simply felt like the thing to do at the time – a way to spend an otherwise quiet, predictable evening. If she had declined the invitation, she knew she would have stayed at home, curled beneath her favorite fleece blanket with her trusty feline friend, Aristotle, by her side. Aristotle would have likely slept, while she began revisions on the latest draft of her dissertation.
She was certainly fond of the paper she had poured years of her life into, but the damned thing had been creating a maelstrom of problems for her lately. She really did need a break from it. Thankfully, this celebration gave her the perfect excuse to escape it for just one night.
The moment she stepped into the cavernous hall, any concerns she had about her dissertation melted away as she socialized and engaged with the other guests. For the first couple of hours, she was content. But, as the night drew on, she found herself becoming increasingly lonely. It was a strange experience – here she was, surrounded by dozens of people, and all she felt was aching loneliness. Though, she supposed it wasn't that surprising, considering she had arrived alone.
She hadn't planned it that way, of course. Lucy and Erica, two doctoral candidates from the same department and her best friends, were supposed to accompany her this evening. Unfortunately, a few days before the event, both ladies regretfully notified Casey that they would not be attending. She was disappointed, but knew their reasons were valid. Lucy and her fiancée were on their way to Aspen for a spontaneous romantic weekend, while Erica – a fellow Canadian – had already left to spend winter break in Montreal, visiting her family and friends.
And so, here Casey was, all by her lonesome.
That was until she saw a handsome stranger cross the room to approach her, with his own glass of champagne in hand. He appeared to be in his late twenties like she was.
Once he was less than a meter from her, her gaze traveled down the length of his frame, taking in the sight of a three-piece suit the color of midnight, a silver tie, and dark dress shoes. His hair, a striking shade of auburn, was styled to lay flat, but the ends curled slightly, refusing to cooperate. However, it was his eyes – the color of milk chocolate – that truly captivated her.
"Hello," he said, the edges of his lips ticking up into a playful smile. "Having fun at tonight's party?"
"Of course," she responded automatically, forcing herself to reciprocate his smile.
He cocked his head to the side, studying her. "I don't buy it. I think you're only saying that out of politeness," he chuckled quietly before taking a sip of his champagne.
Immediately, her eyes drifted to his glass and found ripe, delicious looking strawberries suspended in the bubbling liquid.
How odd, she thought to herself. Why would anyone place fruit in a beverage that's already sweet?
Rather than ask that very question, she asked another with an arched eyebrow.
"What makes you say that?" she wondered, feeling a sudden flare of indignation.
With a gentle roll of his eyes, he gestured to her with his free hand. "You're the only person who's watching the party unfold around you, instead of being in the center of it, continuously engaging with everyone."
She lifted her chin at him, adopting a condescending look. "How do you know I haven't spent the evening doing just that? Maybe I'm taking a break from socializing to catch my breath."
He gave her a devilish smirk in return. "Oh, but you haven't. At first, you made your rounds, making small talk with the people you know, but for the last…" He glanced down at his watch, "forty-five minutes, you've been alone in this corner."
She narrowed her eyes, shooting him a disdainful glare. "Have you been watching me this whole time?" she demanded, torn between feeling unnerved and a tiny bit flattered.
He affected an air of nonchalance with a shrug. "You make it seem like I'm some stalker. I'm not. I was invited, like everyone else." A faint flush spread across both of his cheeks, while he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "It's just…when arrived, I noticed. Whether you know it or not, you turn heads."
She blinked at his forwardness, his audacity, and his…charm. Ah, yes, that's what it was. Initially, she hadn't been able to place the abnormal sensation stirring inside of her stomach, but the more she pondered it, the more she realized she was charmed by him. While she didn't care to admit it, there truly was something refreshing about his bold behavior and candor.
Continuing her train of thought from earlier, she internally remarked, What a strange man indeed.
Pausing, she searched her mind for the right words. When she couldn't find anything satisfactory, she settled on, "Thank you."
She wanted to wince at her failure to produce an adequate response. This wasn't like her; for as long as she could remember, she always knew just what to say. For some reason, this man – whoever he was – managed to completely catch her off guard. She found the notion equally disturbing and fascinating.
Rather than tease her, he simply smiled and nodded toward the empty space next to her on the windowsill.
In a cordial tone of voice, he asked, "Do you mind I join you?"
She hesitated for a moment before murmuring, "Go ahead."
As soon as she consented, he situated himself beside her, leaving a respectable distance between them. Given their proximity, she couldn't escape the lovely aroma that suddenly invaded her senses. She wasn't sure if it was his cologne, his natural scent, or a combination of the two. Regardless of the source, it instantly reminded her of rainfall – earthy and soothing.
She was pulled from her reverie when he turned to her, reaching his hand out to introduce himself. "I'm Derek."
She accepted his hand, carefully placing her smaller one in his.
"My name is Casey," she breathed, withdrawing her hand seconds later. Biting her bottom lip, she mentally shifted through possible conversation starters before deciding to fire his original question back at him. "Are you enjoying the festivities this evening?"
"Eh, having a constant flow of food and alcohol has been nice, but otherwise, not really. This isn't my scene."
"Oh? And what exactly is your scene?"
His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Any kind of party with a rowdy crowd, music so loud that it'll burst your eardrums, food so unhealthy it'll give you a heart attack, and plastic cups filled to the brim with cheap, horrible tasting beer."
She couldn't help but giggle. "Ah, the early days of wild college parties. Didn't grow out of that phase, did you?"
"Not at all," he laughed.
Tilting her head in the same manner that he had earlier, she considered his words.
"Judging by your attire, you don't look like the type who'd hang around those parties," she mused lightly.
He swept his hand across his outfit in a grand gesture. "Well, I've done a good job at fooling you. I'm actually never this put-together in my day-to-day life." His lips curled into another smirk. "If you saw me on an average day around campus, you'd definitely think I belonged at one of those parties."
She rolled her eyes. "How…charming."
He winked at her. "Why, yes, I'm very charming. So glad you noticed."
She shook her head, still astounded by his brazenness. Taking a sip of her champagne, she pondered another question to ask him.
"You mentioned campus, but I don't believe we have the same one. If we did, I think I would recognize you. You don't look familiar, though. I assume that means you're a graduate student at NYU?"
Derek grinned, suddenly looking more boyish than he had previously.
"Yeah, I'm in my second year. Only one more to go before I graduate," he declared proudly.
She matched his grin with one of her own. "That's great news. What's your field of study?" She leaned forward, eager to hear his answer.
"Film."
Her eyes brightened. "That must be exciting. What draws you to that field?"
"I've been interested in it for a long time. Picked up my first camera when I was six and haven't been able to put one down since. When I got older, I started making home videos. My family members hated that I followed them around to capture their most embarrassing moments." He paused to snicker. "Anyway, while I've been in school, I've explored different areas of filmmaking – screenwriting, editing, sound and lighting, shooting footage, and of course, directing. Hands down, directing is my favorite part."
"I could see that. Directing seems like one of the interesting, yet demanding, aspects of the process. Good luck with your studies. I hope everything goes well," she replied earnestly.
"Thanks." His answer was short, but she could hear the genuine gratitude in his voice. "So, what are you studying?"
"Economics. I'm a doctoral candidate at Columbia."
Derek whistled, slapping his thigh with his free hand. "Damn, that's impressive."
"Thank you. It's been quite the journey. Almost five years, in fact."
At her admission, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head, causing Casey to bite her lip, in a vain attempt to conceal the laughter that threatened to spill out of her.
"Five years?!" he exclaimed, aghast. "Why the hell would you torture yourself for that long?"
"I do it because I love economics. It's been a challenging road to get here, but I'm determined to see my degree through. Thankfully, it won't take too much longer. My dissertation defense is scheduled for the spring. If I successfully defend then, I'll have my doctorate by next year."
He shook his head in disbelief, muttering, "You're insane."
"My dedication to economics may be 'insane', but you have no room to talk," she argued evenly. "You've dedicated years of your life to film – a field that you are passionate about and love."
He snorted. "Look, film does mean a lot to me, but I'm not going to spend an eternity in school for it. To be honest, school's never been my thing. It's just something I've done to get by. I'm what you would a slacker."
She pointed an accusatory finger at him. "That seems illogical. If you're not interested in furthering your education, then why are you currently in a graduate program?"
He waved a dismissive hand in her direction. "I'm getting there. Let me finish."
She harrumphed but said nothing else as she waited for him to continue.
He flashed her an impish grin. "It took me six years to finish undergrad because my attention span was very short, and I didn't give a flying rat's ass about subjects other than film. By some miracle, I managed to finish my degree. After that, I figured I was done with school forever, so I spent the next year trying to break into the film industry." His impish grin evened out into a slightly self-deprecating smile. "That plan epically failed. I kept getting rejected 'cause no took me seriously. I didn't know what else to do, so I turned to a former mentor. He suggested that I pursue a master's to build up my skills and credentials. At first, I couldn't stand the idea of going back to school, but I eventually gave in."
After he finished speaking, he looked at her with an expectant expression on his face.
A wicked smirk appeared on her lips. "How's slacking working for you these days?"
He grimaced. "Not well. I have to, like, try now. It's fucking horrible."
"Aw, poor Derek," she cooed. "You have to put effort into something, like the rest of us in graduate school. Oh, the horror!" she gasped dramatically, hand flying to heart to show her utter dismay.
She briefly kept the charade up before bursting into a fit of giggles.
"Shut up," he groaned.
Several seconds later, she was calm enough to say, "It's not my fault that you're struggling because of your slackadaisical ways."
Both of his eyebrows shot up at the term. "Slackadaisical?" he questioned.
"A combination of a slacker and a lackadaisical person," she clarified with a confident ring to her tone.
He snickered. "Only a keener would make up something as pathetic as that."
She gave him a strange look, immediately recognizing the term. It had been years since anyone had called her that.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I called you a keener." He shrugged. "I figured you'd get it. You are from Canada, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am." She eyed him suspiciously. "How do you know that?"
"The way you say certain things tipped me off."
"Oh, I see. That makes sense. For the same reason you mentioned, I thought you might be Canadian, too. What area are you from?"
"London. You?"
"Toronto."
"That's awesome. I've always liked that city." A dreamy look crossed his face as he grinned. "Someday, I want one of my films to show at the Toronto Film Festival."
"That's a good goal to have." She sighed wistfully. "Mine is to conduct research worthy of the Nobel Memorial Prize in Economic Sciences."
Both of his eyebrows rose again, almost reaching his hair line.
"You want to win a Nobel?!"
"Technically, the Nobel Memorial Prize in Economic Sciences isn't a part of the original set of Nobel Prizes, but it's regarded just as highly," she corrected before rolling her eyes. "And yes, of course I'd like to be awarded the Prize. Why is that so hard to believe?"
"Based on what I've learned about you tonight, it's not hard to believe at all. You're so ambitious. It's creeping me out a little." He chuckled, gesturing to her with his finger. "You want to do meaningful research that will change the world." Swiveling the finger around, he pointed at himself. "All I want to do is make cool films."
"It sounds like you're determined to do more than just create 'cool films.'" She used her available hand to make air quotes around the last two words. "If your dream is to have one of your films premiere at a prestigious film festival, then I would say you're also ambitious. And –" She paused to give him an encouraging smile. "Economic research may change the world, but so can film."
He looked pensive, presumably to contemplate her words.
Finally, he decided, "That's…fair, I guess. I never thought of it that way before."
"Well, I'm glad I could give you a new perspective."
The conversation naturally faded on its own after that, leaving a comfortable silence in its wake. Lost in their own thoughts, they each drank from their respective glasses of champagne. Casey, with only a quarter left, finished hers in a few minutes. As soon as the last drop landed on her tongue, the empty glass was whisked away by a passing waiter.
Shifting her body to face outward, she scanned the length of the hall, surprised to see guests still milling around, chatting amiably with one another. During the time that she had been speaking to Derek, it felt like they were in their own little world – one where only she and he existed. She wasn't certain if she found that idea troubling or intriguing. Then again, she'd been at odds with herself ever since he appeared.
She was distracted from her train of thought when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Derek check his watch. As she watched him read the time, she felt her heart sink, knowing that their time together was coming to a close.
She turned to bid him farewell, but at that moment, he looked up and regarded her with a warm smile.
"As much fun as I'm having with you, I'm feeling…overwhelmed by the setting. I need to step outside for some fresh air. Do you want to come with me? Maybe we can go on a walk?" he asked casually, as if he were asking her about the weather, rather than a question that held much more significance.
Casey's eyes widened. Well, she hadn't been expecting that.
"Why?" she asked warily. She lowered her voice. "This isn't some ploy to steal me away from everyone and…." She swallowed, trying not to imagine the horrendous things he could do if he were a malicious person. "…harm me, is it?" The last part came out in a squeak.
With a derisive snort, he drawled, "Do you honestly think that if I intended to hurt you, I'd be upfront about it and tell you? Jesus, Casey. For someone as intelligent as you, that's really a dumb thing to ask."
"Der-ek!" she hissed, feeling incensed. "Of all the condescending, outrageous things to say to someone who's genuinely worried about her safety –"
"No one's ever split my name like that before," he interrupted, completing derailing the point she was trying to make. Shamelessly, he laughed. "It's kind of cute."
"You are ridiculous!" she shrieked. "I just wanted a simple answer and here you are making fun of me –"
Looking fed-up with her, he interrupted once again. "No, of course I'm not going to hurt you! Why the hell would you even think that?"
"Well, it's not that far-fetched!" she snapped, throwing him an irritated glare. "I just met you. You could be a serial killer for all I know."
His eyes rolled so hard that they could have practically fallen out of his head.
"You really think I'm the kind of person who goes around stalking and murdering people?"
"Well, you could be," she muttered under her breath, hoping he hadn't heard her.
No such luck.
"What was that?"
She pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Let's say for argument's sake that you don't want to lure me away for some nefarious reason. Why else would you want me to join you?"
Several beats of silence passed. During that time, Casey grew warier.
"If you can't even give me a one reason…" she began.
"All right, all right," Derek grunted, scratching his neck. "I'll tell you."
Another second ticked by before he admitted, somewhat reluctantly, "I like talking to you, okay? And that is not normal for me because I usually hate long conversations. But, I don't mind them with you." He paused, his eyebrows knitting together. "I thought we could keep talking, but in a place that isn't so stuffy. Judging by how suspicious you are, you don't want to." Shaking his head, he sighed. "It's fine, really. Just forget I said anything."
He scooted farther away from her, preparing to stand. Before he could rise to his feet, her hand shot out to brush against his shoulder.
"Derek," she called, urgency seeping into her voice.
He looked at her, a guarded expression on his face. "What?"
"I didn't realize your intentions. I also enjoy talking to you, and I think I'd like the opportunity to continue our conversation." Nervously, she smiled at him. "That is, if the offer still stands?"
"It does, as long as you stop looking at me like I might hurt you at any minute. I swear I won't. I just…" he gulped, his eyes revealing how uneasy he was. "I want to get to know you better."
She didn't know why, but she trusted his words. She had no reason to – none whatsoever – and yet, she did. It was beyond her level of understanding, but perhaps this time, she didn't need to understand it to just…accept it.
"Okay," she agreed quietly. "Where shall we go?"
His shift in mood was almost instantaneous. With a tender smile, he said, "Well, this is a huge place, so I'm guessing there's a decent backyard. That'd be an ideal spot to take a walk." He glanced down at her shoes. "Are you going to be able to walk in those?"
"Absolutely. I wear heels almost every day, so I'm used to them. These are the most comfortable pair I own, actually. If I needed to, I could even run in them."
He chuckled, leaning over to whisper near her ear. "Planning on running away from me as soon as we're out there?"
She smirked, nudging her shoulder against his. "Now that I know you're a softie, not a chance."
"I can assure you I've never been a softie."
"You can keep denying it, but it's the truth. You looked devasted when I almost rejected your offer."
Scowling, he grumbled, "Did not."
"Did, too."
"Did not."
She leveled her gaze at him, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. "We could continue going back and forth, but I was under the impression that you wanted to take a walk."
"Fine." He raised his glass of champagne to his lips. "But, I'm going to finish this first."
"Wait," she interrupted, stilling his hand.
"What now?"
As much as she tried to ignore it, his beverage had bothered her all evening. Those berries, floating innocently in the liquid, were terribly distracting. She couldn't take it anymore – she had to find out what the deal was. It was inconceivable that anyone could stand to muddle the exquisite flavor.
Against her better judgement, she confessed, "Ever since you wandered over here, I've been mystified by your drink." A blush began spreading across her cheeks. "Why did you add strawberries to this particular champagne when it's already sweet?"
In response, he threw his head back with a hearty laugh.
"Don't tell me you're one of those wine snobs," he answered between fits of laughter.
"And what if I am?" she replied loftily.
"You are fucking insane."
"Well, you must be drawn to insane people, or else you wouldn't have spent this much time talking to me."
"Okay, I'll give you that one," he conceded with another laugh. "To answer your question, there are two reasons. One, I have a sweet tooth, so the added sugar doesn't bother me. And two, I like horrifying wine snobs with my uncivilized behavior." Smirking, he tipped the glass in her direction. "Want to have a taste before I down it?"
She wrinkled her nose. "No, thank you."
"Oh, come on," he cajoled. "Haven't you ever wanted to take a risk and live a little dangerously?"
The answer was a definitive no, but she couldn't make herself to say it. Instead, she reached for his glass and took a sip from it.
Immediately, a zing of sweetness burst across her tastebuds. Even though she wanted to describe the flavor using the appropriate wine-tasting terminology, the only word her brain supplied in that moment was delicious.
A myriad of emotions must have played across her face, for Derek carefully watched her, gauging her reaction.
"You like it," he concluded, a smug smile tugging at his lips.
"It's…acceptable," she allowed, refusing to give away any further information.
"You're such a liar. I can see it on your face that you like it."
"Oh, shut up," she mumbled half-heartedly, barely concealing the fondness from her voice. She handed the glass back to him. "Drink up, so we can get moving."
Mockingly, he saluted her. "Yes, ma'am."
In one gulp, he swallowed the remainder of the liquid. Just as before, in a blink of an eye, a waiter appeared out of nowhere to take his empty glass.
"Man, they're like ninjas," Derek commented, standing up.
Casey agreed with a giggle, swinging her purse onto her shoulder, and rising to her feet. Unzipping the front pocket of her purse, she pulled out a card with the number 17 printed across the top.
"Can you please get my coat, while I speak to the Stevensons about a place where we can take a walk?" she asked.
Derek took the card from her. "Sure thing. Meet at the entrance to this banquet hall?"
"Yes, that's perfect."
They smiled at one another before parting to complete their separate tasks.
It didn't take Casey long to find Cordelia and Marcus – they were in the center of everything, as always – and receive the information she needed.
From where she stood, she saw Derek waiting in their designated meeting spot, her long, ivory peacoat draped over his arm. Politely excusing herself, she made her way to the entrance. When she reached him, he unfolded the material and held it out for her to slip into.
"Thank you," she murmured, turning around. As she gazed at him in his grey fleece zip-up jacket, she couldn't resist smirking. "Such a gentleman. I didn't think you had it in you."
"I'm a man of many talents," he revealed with a laugh. "So, where are we going?"
"As it turns out, the Stevensons have a garden in the back. All we have to do is take a left out of here and walk down the corridor until we reach a set of French doors. Those will lead us to where we want to be."
"Sounds simple enough." He extended his elbow to her. "Shall we?"
She looped her arm through his. "We shall."
The moment they stepped outside, a gust of frigid air struck them, causing Casey to shiver. She released his arm to cross her arms over chest.
Noticing her squirming movements, Derek teased, "Cold?"
"A little," she confessed sheepishly. "Although, this is nothing compared to Ontario's winters."
"Those winters were always a pain in the ass to deal with." He looked up, pointing at the delicate snowflakes falling to the earth. "The ice and snow here will never match the blizzards back at home."
She watched the flakes dance and swirl in the air before drifting down to decorate the beautiful Victorian garden in a sheet of white.
"I like snow when it's falling like this. There's something incredibly peaceful about it," she whispered, careful not to disturb the tranquility of the moment.
"Yeah," he agreed quietly, stepping forward to follow the long, winding trail. Strings of lights hung on the nearby trees, illuminating the path for them.
"What should our next topic of conversation be?" she wondered, burrowing her hands inside of her coat pockets to shield them from the cold. Internally, she cursed herself for leaving her gloves in the car. She really could have used them right now.
A beat of silence passed before Derek answered. "Since we're getting to know each other, let's start with something basic. I'll go first." He cleared his throat dramatically. "Do you have any furry, feathered, scaled, or hooved friends at home?"
"That's a strange way to ask if I have a pet," she observed bemusedly. "And the answer is yes. I have a tuxedo cat named Aristotle."
He whipped his to the side to stare at her. "You named your cat Aristotle?"
"Of course. My cat's personality lives up to his namesake – he's clever, inquisitive, and will not hesitate to lecture me when I've wronged him somehow." She rolled her eyes. "He's a troublemaker, but I love him."
"That's how I feel about my German shepherd, Boomer. Great dog, except when he's barking his head off at six in the morning because there's a damn squirrel in the yard. And if that wasn't bad enough, he makes me take him on a four-kilometer run every day, no matter how good or bad the weather is. Almost slipped and broke my fucking neck when we ran during a hailstorm."
She laughed. "The things we do for our loved ones."
"No kidding," he snorted.
"Speaking of loved ones…" she started, pausing for a second to shiver. The wind began kicking up, blowing more snow in their direction. "What's your family like?"
"There's not too much to tell. My dad's a lawyer and my mom's a marine biologist. They're divorced and living in two different cities – Dad's in London, Mom's in Toronto. They both remarried – Dad to Natalie and Mom to Peter. My stepparents are all right, I guess." He shrugged. "I have two younger siblings, Edwin and Marti. Ed's working as a mechanical engineer in Ottawa, and Marti…." Smiling, he shook his head fondly. "…wants to become an artist as soon as she's done with high school. The kid loves to paint and draw. She's crazy talented, too. Every time I visit home, she's working on something new."
Casey briefly glanced at Derek, noticing subtle changes in his facial expressions, body language, and tone of voice.
"You really care for her, don't you?" she asked softly.
Affection filled his voice as he said, "I do. We've always had a tight bond."
"That's very sweet. I have a close relationship with my younger sister as well, so I understand."
"Oh, is she a keener like you?"
She slapped his arm, half in irritation, half in amusement. "Shut up, you dunderhead!"
"Dunderhead? Wow, you need to work on your insults."
"Jackass," she amended with a hiss. "Is that better for you?"
He flashed her a toothy grin. "Much. All jokes aside, what's your sister like?"
"Lizzie is amazing. She's fiercely protective and loyal – she'll go above and beyond for the people she loves. But, don't let her kindness fool you. If she sees or hears you do anything that severely harms the environment, she'll tear you a new one. As an employee of the US Environmental Protection Agency, that's what she spends most of her days doing."
"An economist and a tree-hugger? Damn, your family is interesting," Derek laughed, lightly brushing his shoulder against Casey's.
Rolling her eyes, she joined in his mirth. "You could say that."
His laughter quieted after a moment. "All right, so you've told me about your sister who would definitely hunt me down for my lack of an environmentally conscious lifestyle. What about your parents? What are they like?"
"Well, my mother is an extremely patient, loving person. She's always been supportive of whatever Lizzie and I wanted to pursue. Before changing careers, she was a window treatment specialist. Now, she's a successful interior designer."
"And your dad…?"
"Oh, him." Involuntarily, her voice had gone flat. It usually did whenever her father was brought up in a conversation. Silently, she contemplated how much she wanted to reveal about the man who always complicated her life. Rather than explain the entire story, she picked a few details. "He and my mother are divorced. She's still in Toronto and he's here in New York. He's known as one of the city's most notorious prosecutors because he wins nearly every case he tries. In the courtroom, he's utterly ruthless."
"He's the opposite of my dad, then," Derek snorted, though the sound wasn't mocking or unkind. "Good ol' George is always fighting the good fight. Y'know, defending the people who need help. All that do-gooder stuff."
"I wish my father was like that. Instead, I get the man who's obsessed with power and image. Heaven forbid that he does anything for the betterment of humankind, instead of something that's entirely self-serving." Even though she tried to conceal the bitterness in her voice, it still trickled through.
"I'm guessing you have some dad issues?"
"You have no idea."
"Sorry about that." He sounded like he meant it, too.
"It's okay. I appreciate your concern, though."
Deciding to refocus the direction of her thoughts, she said, "I also have a stepparent. When I was a teenager, my mother met Greg on a blind date. They immediately hit it off and wed a couple of years after that. Greg is a very different man than my father, but I think that's what my mother needed all along. She needed someone who would be there for her, giving her support, encouragement, and affection. Greg does all those things and more. I honestly couldn't have asked for a better person for my mother."
"He sounds like a good guy. I'm glad to hear it worked out in the end."
"Thank you. I'm glad, too."
As before, the conversation drifted off naturally. Idly, Casey noticed that the path started to loop back around toward the entrance to the garden. After walking for a bit in silence, she chose to ask another question.
"I assume you've watched your fair share of movies. Do you have a favorite?"
"Well, duh. Doesn't everyone?"
"I don't. I enjoy the occasional movie here and there, but I prefer books."
"Color me surprised," he chuckled. "How about this: I'll tell you my favorite movie, if you tell me your favorite book?"
"That seems like a decent trade. You go first."
"In all my years of film-watching, the one that always rises to the occasion is Inglorious Basterds."
She couldn't help herself – an embarrassingly loud peal of laughter burst from her throat. The sound was so sudden and thunderous that it made Derek flinch.
Too caught up in the hilarity of it all to comment on his reaction, she gasped, "You must be joking! That cannot be a real movie."
"It is real!" he argued, flinging his hand in exasperation. "I can't believe you've never heard of it or seen it!"
Breathing through the laughter, she managed to regain her composure.
"Do you really think that I would watch something called, 'Inglorious Basterds'?" she snarked, rolling her eyes.
Scowling, Derek threw her an icy glare. "You need to chill with the whole high and mighty thing. It makes you seem like a stuck-up princess. You also can't judge it until you've watched it yourself. It's literally a piece of art."
She chose to ignore the princess comment, in favor of asking, "And what, pray tell, makes this movie a 'piece of art'?"
"Well, I could talk all fucking day about how awesome it is, but in the interest of saving time, I'll cut it short." He moved his hands wildly – up, down, and around at an astonishing speed. "First reason: there are, like, four genres all rolled into one movie. That means there's something in it for almost everyone. The main characters try to assassinate some Nazi leaders, so like a typical war movie, there's a shit-ton of action. But, if you're not into soldiers running around, guns a blazin', then you also get to see some drama, comedy, and adventure. Second, the writing is sharp, and the acting is great. And third, it makes history approachable, instead of some giant snooze-fest."
Given that Derek was a film student, Casey shouldn't have been surprised by his enthusiasm for this topic. Yet, she was completely enamored of the way he spoke of his favorite movie.
She raised her hands in surrender. "You made some valid points," she relented. "I can't promise that I'll ever watch it myself, but I'll take your word that it's a great film."
Despite the whine he gave, Derek muttered, "I guess I can accept that. All right, it's your turn. What's your favorite book?"
"Flowers for Algernon."
He furrowed his eyebrows. "I didn't see that coming. I figured you'd pick some famous book about economics, or something that's super cliché and romantic." He cracked a teasing smile. "You seem like the type who's into the knight in shining amor trope."
Laughing, she gently knocked her shoulder against his. "There's nothing wrong about a lady who demands chivalry, you know. Anyway, when I read for pleasure, I rarely select books about economics. They just aren't my cup of tea. And while I enjoy romances, they never affect me in the same way that Flowers for Algernon does. After I finished reading it for the first time, I wept for two days. I've re-read seven times since then, and I still shed tears."
The second the words left her mouth, Derek's eyes roamed over her face, a mixture of concern and interest pooling in his dark irises.
"What about it affects you so much?"
She inhaled, holding her breath for a few seconds before slowly releasing it. When she felt ready, she began speaking.
"It's a story about a man named Charlie, who was born with an extremely low IQ. When he's offered a chance to improve it, using a newly developed surgical procedure, he takes it. But, his decision comes with many consequences – good and bad." She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat. "The ending broke my heart, but it also taught me a valuable life lesson: humans shouldn't be measured solely by their intelligence. What they should be measured by is their compassion and kindness for themselves and for others."
Derek stopped in his tracks, regarding her with a worried expression.
"Hey, are you okay?"
"Yeah," she whispered tentatively. "Sorry, I always get emotional when I talk about that book."
"It's okay," he reassured comfortingly. A moment later, his eyes brightened. "Do you want to hear some of my most embarrassing first date stories?"
She felt jarred by the abrupt change in topic. "What?"
"A lot of what we've talked about tonight has been serious, so I think it's time for a change of pace." Clearing his throat, he announced in a booming voice, "And the next topic is…." Using his hands, he tapped his thighs to mimic a drum-roll. "…worst first date experiences!" With a roguish grin, he lifted both eyebrows. "I'll go first. What do you say?"
A slow smile worked itself onto her lips. "All right. Tell me about your disastrous dates."
For the next while, Derek entertained her with tales of his most humiliating (and admittedly hilarious) dates. Casey, listening intently, practically howled with laughter as more and more details were revealed. The most recent date – and probably the funniest – involved a milkshake and the kiss cam at a Rangers game in Madison Square Garden.
As soon he wrapped up his final story, she snickered, "Based on the information you provided, you are terrible person to go out with."
"I am not! In fact, most people say I'm a real catch."
"I'm sure they do," she drawled.
"Oh, like you're a complete angel when it comes to dating. I bet you have just as many bad dating stories as I do. C'mon, tell me about them."
She arched an eyebrow at him. "I would, but I don't have that many to share. I actually haven't spent a lot of time dating. At least, not recently."
Of all the things she had said during their time together, that piece of information seemed to shock Derek the most, for he released an undignified, "What?!"
She almost giggled, but managed to reign it in. "I'm not an inexperienced dater," she said dismissively. "I dated four people in high school, had two serious relationships in undergrad, and was involved with an individual during graduate school. It's just that…well…"
"Spit it out, Casey."
She chewed on her bottom lip, feeling her cheeks flush. Lowering her head, she mumbled, "I tend to date people who are horrendously safe and boring. The last one was the worst of them all, so after that, I vowed to take a break from dating."
A moment passed before a look of understanding crossed Derek's face.
"Oh, I get it. You're a plain oatmeal kind of person."
Recoiling from his words, she frowned. Had she heard him correctly?
"Excuse me?"
He rolled his eyes. "Look, I know it sounds weird, but relationships and breakfast foods have more in common than you'd think. Every time I've compared them, it makes sense. Will you just let me explain? I promise I'll make it worth your while."
She gave him a dubious look before sighing. "Fine, go ahead."
"You see, plain oatmeal is the most boring breakfast food imaginable. It's mushy, has no flavor, and doesn't make you feel satisfied after eating it. Similarly, you are attracted to basic, bland people who don't really have personalities, interests, or any depth. They're the plain oatmeal of the dating world. What you don't understand is that you have an entire breakfast buffet available – fried eggs with bacon, pancakes, waffles, French toast, muffins, bagels with cream cheese, omelets, just to name a few – and yet, you pick the plain oatmeal 'cause it's easy and predictable."
Stunned, she blinked at him in awe. She wanted to ridicule his analogy – she really did – but she couldn't. As bizarre as it sounded, it was logically sound.
Her lips twisted into a grimace. "I suppose I do select 'plain oatmeal.' I just don't know what I'd do if I let myself…look at other breakfast options. What if I choose something else and I don't like it? Or, what if it's unhealthy for me?" Her eyes widened in horror.
Taking in her perturbed expression, Derek laughed. "Hey, don't knock the unhealthy options until you try 'em. They might not be the best for you, but they're fucking awesome in the moment."
Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "That's such a hedonistic approach. You go for something that brings you pleasure for an undetermined amount of time and then what? What do you do after the euphoria fades?"
Derek shrugged, appearing completely unaffected by her questions. "You feel crappy for a while, but then you move on. You try again and see what the next one has to offer. The point is, you keep going until you find the option that's good for you and makes you happy."
"You make it sound so easy."
"Well, it doesn't have to be difficult. People just make it more difficult than it needs to be."
She wrung her hands, feeling another sigh slip from her mouth. "I don't know if I'll ever be the kind of person who…takes chances like that. I like predictability. No, scratch that. I love it. I really wouldn't know what to do if I suddenly added spontaneity into my otherwise predicable life."
He raised an eyebrow. "You say you're such a predictable person, but you decided to come to this party tonight. I'd say that's a bold move. Plus, you met me. I don't think you predicted that, or that we'd be taking this walk together."
When she didn't immediately respond, he forged on. "Face it, Casey. You're capable of spontaneity." He motioned to the space between them. "This, right here, proves it."
She opened her mouth for a second, but quickly closed it. She did this a couple of times, desperately trying to find a way to refute his point. Unfortunately, no words came to her rescue.
Smugness seemed to radiate off Derek. "You don't have comeback, do you? 'Cause deep down, you know I'm right."
She lightly shoved him. "You know, arrogance is notan attractive quality."
"I beg to differ."
She scoffed, "Of course you do."
"You can be bitter about it, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm still right."
"Fine. You win, you arrogant jerk. I am apparently capable of being somewhat spontaneous. I just choose not to be," she grumbled.
"See?" he crooned sweetly. "That wasn't so hard to admit, was it?"
"I've only known you for a few hours, but I am quite certain when I say this – you are the absolute worst, Derek."
He placed his right hand over his heart. "Gee, I'm honored to be considered the worst human being in your book."
"Damn right you are."
They continued their playful banter until they made it back to the entrance of the garden. Turning to one another, they spoke at the same time.
"Derek –" "Casey –"
"You go first," he insisted.
"Thank you for inviting me to take a walk with you. Despite your teasing and mockery, I had a lovely time."
The smile he gave her in return was radiant. "Hey, I gave it right back to you. And good. I did, too."
Neither person dared to move or speak. Under the soft glow of the lights, they gazed meaningfully at each other. Casey was suddenly struck by how attractive Derek was. It wasn't just his physical appearance, though he certainly was easy on the eyes. No, it was his charismatic personality, devil-may-care attitude, and self-assurance that made him such a bewitching person.
He's no plain oatmeal, she mused. He's not boring, or easy, or predictable at all.
In another life – one where she truly was brave and took giant, leap-of-faith chances – she would have made a move. But, in this life, she simply stood there, letting the moment sizzle before dousing it in a gallon of ice-cold water.
She swallowed and forced herself to say, "We should go. I'm sure it's getting late."
"Yeah, that's probably good idea." He glanced down at his watch. "It's…midnight."
"I can't believe we've been talking for hours. It hardly feels like any time has passed."
"Yeah." An unreadable look briefly flickered across Derek's face before disappearing.
"Something on your mind?" she asked, feeling her stomach flutter with nerves.
"It's nothing."
"I don't really believe you, but I guess I'll humor you this time." She placed a hand on his arm to give him a gentle squeeze. "Take care, Derek."
"You, too, Casey. Maybe I'll see you around?"
She wasn't certain if it was her imagination or not, but she thought she detected an undertone of hopefulness in his voice.
With a small smile, she murmured, "Perhaps."
Waving to one another, they went their separate ways – Derek headed straight for his vehicle, while Casey ducked inside of the manor to thank the hosts for their hospitality and bid them goodnight.
On her way home, she couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if she had just taken a chance. The thought never left her, even as she dressed in her pajamas and sank into bed with Aristotle purring softly beside her.
Two weeks later, on New Year's Eve, Casey was right back to where she started – separating herself from the other guests during another well-attended, rousing celebration.
This time, the Stevensons weren't hosting. Understandably, a last-minute vacation to Bora Bora seemed too enticing to pass up. With apologetic notes sent to all the invitees, they boarded their private jet to spend the remainder of the month relaxing on sandy white beaches. All was not lost, however. Before departing for their tropical getaway, they handed off the responsibilities to their dependable cousin, Amelia.
With the knowledge that her cousins would be nowhere near her to criticize her choices, Amelia decided to change the rules. Rather than dress for a black-tie event, attending guests were encouraged to arrive in business casual attire. Instead of mindbogglingly expensive food and beverages, Amelia served fare that was far more appropriate for a New Year's party. As a result of these modifications, the atmosphere was significantly cozier than the Stevensons' celebration a fortnight ago.
Despite the inviting ambiance, Casey still felt out of place. Sure, she had participated in the usual exchange of pleasantries upon arriving, but it didn't take long before she had to excuse herself. Thankfully, the hostess – the friendly, patient woman that she was – allowed her to take refuge in the personal library, located on the far end of the ground floor.
It wasn't a secret that Casey longed for a library of her own. She certainly had enough books to comprise one, but no matter where she lived – in her childhood home, a dormitory at the University of Toronto, or in an apartment in New York – there was never enough space to display her entire collection. But, someday, when she was ready to purchase a house of her own, she vowed to dedicate a large room for her books. For now, she simply had to settle for someone else's library.
And what a library it was. It was massive, with floor-to-ceiling shelves decorated with volumes upon volumes of books of every color, size, shape, and genre imaginable. Some were newly released titles, while others appeared to be first editions, dating back as early as the 1800s.
If the sheer number of books wasn't enough to cause a ripple of warmth to spread through her, then the fire in the hearth surely did. While it did seem dangerous to have a fireplace in a room filled with paper, there was something inherently comforting about sitting in one of the velvet chairs and reading in front of the fire.
With that serene image in mind, Casey decided to do just that. Figuring that Amelia wouldn't mind if she borrowed a book to read, she scanned the shelves, wondering if a certain novel would be there.
She reached the fiction area of the library when she heard the familiar chime of her cellphone. Crossing the room, she retrieved the device from her purse and noticed a text message from Lizzie.
Is he there?
Rolling her eyes at her sister's meddling, Casey answered:
I haven't seen him. I don't know if he's even coming to this one. He may already have New Year's plans.
It was only a second later when her phone pinged with Lizzie's response.
If he shows up – and he better – you need to make a move. I'm tired of you dating boring dinguses. This Derek guy sounds great for you, so just take a chance, will you?
Easy enough for you to say. You've never been afraid to take chances and they've always worked out for you.
Of course, typical Lizzie – the firecracker that she was – easily had a comeback.
Hey, I was a nervous wreck when I asked Jasmine out on our first date, but now look at us, we're engaged. That could be you and Derek, if you just womaned up and DID SOMETHING.
Casey's fingers flew over her keyboard as she furiously typed.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up, Liz! I met Derek two weeks ago and now you want me to marry him? That might one of the most foolish things you've ever said.
Lizzie took a few moments to reply, but when she did, she sent a paragraph so large that Casey stared at her phone in awe.
Okay, maybe not marry, but you get the point. Case, I know you. You've never acted like this before. When I visited you during Christmas, all you could talk about was him. No complaints about Dad, no freak-outs about your dissertation, no typical chatter about the latest book you've read. It was all 'Derek this' and 'Derek that.' Even Mom noticed! While you were talking to Greg, Mom and I exchanged notes on your new behavior. And you know what, we freaking loved what we saw! For the first time in your life, you were smitten, and it was adorable to watch. Obviously, he means something to you. Look, I get that it's your life, but you're my sister and I want to see you happy. From what you've told me about Derek ('cause that's all I could go on since you didn't even get his last name so I could Facebook stalk him – I'm still bitter about that, btw), I think he'd make a good match for you.
Under normal circumstances, Casey wouldn't have hesitated to pace around the room, internally screaming in frustration, as she threw herself into a vortex of obsessive thoughts. Eventually, she'd type out a novel-length response, expressing her views from all sides – the positives, the negatives, and everything in between. This time, though, she smiled and wrote a simple message back.
Thank you, Liz. I think I really needed to hear that. I don't know what's going to happen tonight, but if he's here…well, I might just take matters into my own hands. Wish me luck.
The reply was quick and sweet.
Good luck, big sis. Love you.
I love you, too.
Tucking her phone away, she returned to the shelves to search for the novel she'd spend the rest of the evening with.
It was wedged between A Thousand Splendid Suns and The Book Thief – a rather odd spot in Casey's opinion. Nevertheless, her hand reached forward to slip it out.
She stared lovingly at the cover, eyes roving over the picture of a white rat. Gently, her fingers traced the letters of the title.
She was so focused on the book in her hands that she barely registered the sound of footsteps behind her. It wasn't until she heard a throat being cleared that she whirled around, gasping in surprise.
Derek stood before her, looking more handsome than before, in dark wash jeans and a forest green sweater.
"Hi," he said with a cautious smile. "Amelia told me you were in here. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's okay. I was a little distracted," she admitted, giggling breathlessly. She waved the book in the air. "I thought I might get some reading done."
He raised an eyebrow. "You want to read at a New Year's party?"
"Well, you know me – I'm an insane keener."
"You sure are," he laughed, his eyes sparkling with fondness.
When his laughter quieted, they looked at one another with the same intensity as the night they parted ways. For a minute or two, the only sounds in the room were the crackling fire and their steady inhalations and exhalations.
Unable to bear the tension any longer, Casey murmured, "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?" She gestured toward the door, indicating the ongoing festivities beyond the barrier. "If I recall correctly, this isn't 'your scene.'"
"You're right, it's not. But, I can never turn down free food and drinks, so I figured I'd show up and snag what I could." He paused, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek. It took Casey a moment to figure out that Derek was apprehensive. About what, she wasn't sure, but the emotion was clear on his face. Before she could ask him what was going on, he mumbled, "There's more to it than that. I also…wanted to see you again."
Her eyes widened, while her brain tried to process his words. Did he just admit what she thought he did? Or did she have a little too much to drink and was somehow imaging this whole conversation?
Feeling light-headed, she choked out, "Why?"
His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Why what?"
"Why did you want to see me again?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
"If it was, I wouldn't have asked you."
He shook his head in that mildly exasperated, but also slightly amused way. "You don't make anything easy, do you?"
"For you? Never."
"As smart as you are, I'm shocked you haven't figured it out yet. C'mon, Casey. It's not that hard."
She stared at the book in her hands to avoid his gaze. "Look, Derek –" she started, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, unsure of how she wanted this conversation to go.
Thankfully, she was saved from having to make the decision. Derek must have detected her mood, for he smoothly interrupted with a quiet, "You were right." With his right index finger, he tapped the cover of the book. "It is a sad story, but it teaches you a lot. I can see why you like it."
She looked up sharply. "What?"
"Flowers for Algernon. I read it a couple days before Christmas."
Her mouth dropped open. "You read it? Why?"
He smirked, though the haughtiness of his expression was ruined by the slight tinge of pink on cheeks.
"It's not like I ran out and bought it after we talked. I hadn't planned on reading it at all, but it just…kinda happened."
She quirked an eyebrow at that, all trace of uncertainty gone for the moment. Carefully, she placed the book back in its original location, knowing that no reading was going to be accomplished at this rate.
Turning to him, she crossed her arms over her chest and shot him an unimpressed look.
"Right. I'm supposed to believe that you randomly stumbled across it and decided to give it a chance?"
He held up his hands in surrender. "It wasn't random – I went looking for it. But, you can blame my sister for that. It was her idea."
"I…don't follow."
He stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "I went back to London for Christmas. Marti picked me up from the airport, but instead of heading straight home, she drove us to our favorite café, Smelly Nelly's –"
She wrinkled her nose. Who would give such an off-putting name to a café, of all places?
Derek laughed, catching her disgusted expression. "I know it's weird name, but trust me, they've got the best desserts in London. Anyway, I was the middle of digging into my chocolate pie when she asked me why I didn't bring a date, like I usually do. I said it was none of her business, but she kept pestering me about it. Eventually, I told her met someone, but wasn't ready to introduce her to the fam yet. Marti asked me about her, and I told her everything I learned the night I met her. I mentioned where she goes to school, what she's studying, what her family's like. Oh, I even brought up her favorite book – Flowers for Algernon."
"Wait, that would mean –"
Derek held up his hand, grinning cheekily. "Save all comments until the end, Princess."
"Fine, go on," she huffed.
Without further ado, Derek continued. "After we finished eating, she said she needed new paints and canvas for an important project." He paused to roll his eyes. "An art supply store was the last place I wanted to be, but I knew I couldn't say no to her."
At Casey's look of incredulity, he petulantly muttered, "Don't judge me. I have a soft spot for her, okay?"
A playful smile spread across her lips. "You sure do."
He narrowed his eyes at her before carrying on. "On the drive there, I asked her what the hell I was supposed to do while she shopped. I kid you not, she turned to me with the biggest shit-eating grin on her face and was like, 'There's a bookstore right next door. Go in there and look around. You never know what you'll find.' Then, the brat winked!" he laughed, shaking his head. "Her plan was so obvious, but I played along anyway. I'm not much of a reader, so wandering around the bookstore was sorta overwhelming, not gonna lie. But, I uh…I tracked down that book and read it 'cause it's important to you. I guess…I just wanted to feel closer to you? Does that even make sense?"
Casey's smile grew warm with understanding. "It does."
For the next few seconds, she simply stared at him, attempting to gather enough courage to express her feelings.
This may be your only chance to tell him, she thought to herself. Don't mess it up.
"Apparently, your sister and mine must think alike. When Lizzie traveled here for Christmas, she noticed that I was a bit…preoccupied during the holiday. She said I couldn't stop talking about a certain film student I'd met at a recent event. According to her, I'm quite taken with him," she mumbled, her cheeks flushing.
He smirked. "Oh, really?"
She nodded. "I'm not exactly sure why he's caught my attention, but he has. He's not usually the type of person I'm attracted to. He's audacious, charismatic, and a slightly chaotic. He's…unpredictable. That quality would normally frighten me, but for some reason, his unpredictable nature is rather refreshing."
"Based on what you're telling me, this guy doesn't sound like plain oatmeal."
"No, he is definitely not plain oatmeal," she laughed quietly.
His eyes swam with curiosity. "So, what breakfast food is he?"
Casey hummed, pausing to ponder his question. When she finally decided, her eyes shined with mirth.
"Cream cheese stuffed French toast with a drizzle of maple syrup and candied pecans."
He tilted his head in wonder. "What's your reasoning for that?"
She already had the answer on the tip of her tongue.
"I typically prefer savory options for breakfast, but when I do select something sweet, it's always French toast. It's perfectly balanced between the sugar and the spices, and something about it is purely comforting. This man…well, he brings a source of comfort with him. He's also soft on the inside, even though he has a bold and daring façade. Hence, the cream cheese. Maple syrup because he's Canadian. And he's somewhat of a nutty person, so pecans seem fitting."
"Sounds like this guy is a real catch," Derek mused, the teasing lilt in his voice unmistakable.
She kept her eyes locked on his. "I would hate to feed his ego, but I suppose he is."
He winked. "Oh, he already knows. He appreciates the ego boost, though."
Casey tried to fight a smile, but it was useless. Even when Derek was an arrogant pain, he was still charming. Damn him.
Deciding to change the subject, she lightly asked, "How did you know I would be here tonight?"
"I didn't. Not for sure, at least. Just took a wild guess, and it turns out, I was right." He stepped closer so that there was little distance between them. "I wanted to ask for your number that night, but you looked so hesitant that I thought it would be best if I let it go. Even though I tried to forget about you, I couldn't get you out of my head. So, when the New Year's invite came, I figured I'd see if you'd be around." He lowered his voice an octave, appearing more serious that he had been all night. "I've answered your questions. Now you get to answer one of mine. You don't like these parties either, so why did you come?"
Fumbling for words, she stammered, "M-maybe I was hoping to run into you as well."
Rather than tease her for her ineloquence, he smiled warmly. Reaching forward, he cradled her face in his hands.
"Casey," he said patiently, running his thumb across her cheek. "I'm not the kind of guy who shows his cards, but for once, I'm gonna." A deep, measured breath left him before he declared, "I felt something that night and I still feel it. I think you feel it, too. But, I'm not going to push you towards anything. It's up to you to decide where we go from here."
Casey gasped, feeling her head spin. "I –"
In the distance, she heard boisterous voices chorusing together.
"10…9…8…7…6…"
And so, the countdown begins, she thought. A new year. New beginnings. New chances. Come on, Casey. Take a chance.
"3…2…1…HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
Without hesitating this time, she closed her eyes and kissed him. She was about to pull away to check his reaction when he deepened the kiss. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, but she went along with it, reveling in the sudden feeling of euphoria.
After a few moments, she broke to kiss to whisper, "Happy New Year, Derek."
"Happy New Year, Casey," he murmured before softly chuckling. "You taste like strawberries and champagne, which means you mixed those things on your own tonight. Dare I say that my rebellious nature is rubbing off on you?"
She rolled her eyes, backing up slightly to sock him in the arm. "Don't you dare say that. You're sadly mistaken. Never in a million years would I combine strawberries and champagne. What do you take me for? An uncouth person?" Despite the seriousness of her tone, her lips curled into an involuntary smile.
He leaned forward to kiss both her cheeks, then her nose. "You're very stubborn, but I happen to like that about you. Don't worry. One day, I'll get you to admit it."
"Dream on, Derek."
He laughed in response, threading his fingers through her own. "So, what now?"
"Well, since you read my favorite book, it's only fair that I see your favorite movie. I was thinking about seeing it anyway, so a few days ago, I did some research and found a small theater near my apartment. There's a showing of Inglorious Basterds tomorrow evening. Do you…want to watch it with me?"
"Are you asking me out on a date?" Derek drawled with a raised eyebrow.
Biting her lip in anticipation, she nodded.
He grinned mischievously. "I'll accept on one condition."
"And that would be…?"
"If we get out of here and grab some food that's not fancy schmancy. Don't get me wrong – the stuff that Amelia has out there is tasty, but it's not a full meal. I'm starving."
A look of disbelief appeared on Casey's face. "You want to eat right now?"
"Duh. I can eat around the clock." He released her hands to gesture with one of his. "You'll figure that out soon."
"I think I'm starting to already." She sighed in the same manner that he shook his head earlier – a combination of exasperation and fondness. "Okay, I'll go with you. What do you have in mind?"
"There's a 24-hour diner that's not too far from here. I go there often, and I know for a fact that it's got great French toast." The mischievousness of his smile melted into something more genuine. "Plus, I want to hear about your Christmas and what you've been up to since then. What do you say?"
"I'd like that," she breathed, reaching to take one of his hands to lead him out of the library.
As they maneuvered around the merry crowd to find the coat room, Casey thought of one of her favorite quotes from Flowers for Algernon. It was a quote that spoke of the profoundness of receiving someone's time and affection, rather than their money or physical items.
What Derek had given her – his time and his affection – was more meaningful than any gift he could have presented her with. He'd freely given both on the night they met, and he was willing to do it again tonight. Casey wasn't used to receiving either time or affection from the men she had dated in the past, but a part of her was hopeful that Derek could be the one to change all of that.
They nearly made it to the coat room when Casey turned to Derek to kiss his cheek.
"Thank you," she murmured sweetly.
"What for?"
She didn't know how to phrase her thoughts, so she decided to use the quote instead.
"'There are a lot of people who will give money or materials –'"
"'– but very few who will give time and affection,'" Derek finished for her. "I can't remember quotes to save my life, but that one stuck with me."
"I always liked that saying."
"It's a good one," he agreed, seeming to understand what she meant. He gently brushed his lips across her forehead. "Thanks for giving this – us – a chance."
Humming, she reached for her coat and tossed him his.
After donning his fleece jacket, he held out his hand. "Ready for our next adventure, Princess?"
She laughed, slipping her hand in his. "You know, for once I am."
A new year and a chance to start something unpredictable and exciting. She couldn't wait.
Author's Note (Part II):
That's a wrap! This was meant to be pure fluff, so hopefully, I delivered in that regard. I'd like to think their subsequent dates turned out well and that they'd make their relationship last long term. I could imagine Derek supporting Casey through her dissertation defense, and Casey being there for Derek during the showing of his final film project for his studies.
So, if Derek is cream cheese stuffed French toast with maple syrup and candied pecans, what breakfast food is Casey? I have an answer in mind, but I'd love to hear what you all think :)