A/N: As before, I apologize for the lag. I'd like to thank KnowPein, Balyndaba, Miguel51, Dark-Supernatural-Angel, jperks, and the guests for their reviews. I appreciate the support and the feedback. Also, thanks to Loves-life555, kidcrooner, Booklover63, TeenLove332, DeaththeKidbemine9, margreat, melodykay10, Jbislove1234, yamilaruiz, Miguel51, daseylover101, fredgeorge forever2011, indefinitely undecided, angelx420x2000, Sandraanataliaa, sockmonky, beianzhen, orangepurple, fantasyfreak23, Dark-Supernatural-Angel, ichigo y makoto-kun, AnnaliaVictoria, maribelle114, , imagine-your-life333, Blaze, jperks, and notabadday for following. And thanks to kidcrooner, TeenLove332, melodykay10, yamilaruiz, Miguel51, RoseDiamond413, daseylover101, angelx420x2000, sockmonky, ichigo y makoto-kun, bonniereads, AnnaliaVictoria, and jperks for the favorites.


Chapter Thirteen: This Obsession's Not Platonic

Casey would never admit that she enjoyed her texted spats with her stepbrother. But she did. It was just easier to be civil in small doses. And it was hard to yell in texts without being incredibly aware of how clunky caps lock was.

After pleading with Alicia to put off her Saturday evening plans, she was able to pin down her suitemate long enough to pick a new ("more sexy?" she'd requested) outfit. Alicia had rolled her eyes, but complied with the request.

And, after searching, they realized that Casey didn't exactly own 'sexy' clothes.

After twenty minutes of Casey whining that it wasn't fair and she didn't want to look easy, Alicia had given up and left for her date, leaving Casey feeling very put-out and unprepared. With another twenty minutes of sulking, she'd finally allowed herself to wear what she'd been slightly terrified of wearing.

When she arrived at Derek's apartment (un-escorted this time, and not as worried about being watched by the Stalkers), she was only barely shivering in the October air, and wearing the following objectionable clothing items:

Her second (of three) 'sexy' bras (this one black with white lace), who's cups were just barely covered - and straps even less covered - by

A red ruched-sided sweetheart-necked top with the skinniest of skinny straps (previously only worn for dance performances), paired with

Red platform heels (in a move that would prove she was totally not clumsy and very capable of managing six-inch heels)

She'd also borrowed the following items from Alicia, after much begging and pleading:

A pair of black low-rise unintentionally-cropped skinny jeans (no way would she have a repeat wardrobe malfunction with a skirt, even if the pants were short for her where they fit Alicia and a little too snug on her hips where they fit her suitemate loosely) with zips on the legs that paired well with

A cropped black leather jacket with zips on the pockets and silver studs along the shoulders (she kinda missed Derek's, to be honest), the bad-ass-ery of which was emphasized by

Blood red lipstick (oddly enough, Casey did own this – a remnant from that time she was in Little Shop of Horrors – but she was slightly obsessive over expiration dates and needed a replacement tube)

Unlike last time, Casey had not bothered pulling back her hair at all, spending a good ten minutes blow drying it upside down to get a tousled 'voluminous' look (after which she'd had a horrible head rush and needed to sit down to blink the sight back into her eyes). And after the amount of time she spent prepping, he had better be impressed. She felt like she belonged in some girl gang from the 1950's (though her cat eye was far subtler). Alicia would approve (and she did; Casey sent a full-length pic to her suitemate before she left the dorm and Alicia had responded with: 'hot mama! Now stop texting me I'm trying to get laid').

Casey buzzed at the entrance for Derek's apartment.

"Hello?"

She hesitated. That was not Derek's voice. And it didn't quite sound like what-his-face… the Novak kid. It must've been the other one. What was his name again? Getty… John Getty? She had no clue.

"Hi, I'm here for Derek?"

"Right. Yeah, come on up."

And with that there was a click and the door was opened.

Casey was starting to think this wasn't going to be horrible. But then she got to the elevator.

She watched as the numbers ticked from four, to three, to two, to one, to L for lobby.

As the doors dinged open, Casey's stomach lurched. Because there were two girls in it, staring at her and smiling broadly. And, even though she didn't recognize them, she had a feeling she knew who they were.

"You're here for Derek?" The first one – the dirty blonde girl with thick black glasses clad in PJ pants and a gigantic grey sweatshirt – asked, as Casey stood awkwardly outside the elevator. (They made no effort to leave.)

"I-" she stuttered, feeling the seeping heat of a blush starting (again?).

"Get in, come on!" The other girl – an Asian girl with nearly identical glasses to her friend, wearing yoga pants, a slouchy t-shirt and a messenger bag – gestured eagerly for her to enter.

Casey didn't want to. She did not want to be trapped in an elevator with the fourth floor Stalkers. Especially not if they were going to – and she had a feeling they were going to – ask her about Derek for the whole ride up. But she did not look forward to walking up eight flights in six-inch heels. So, after a moment's hesitation during which the blonde jammed her finger repeatedly into the 'door open' button, Casey allowed herself a mental sigh as she stepped in.

"I'm Kit," the Asian girl thrust her hand forward, grabbing Casey's and shaking it firmly. Casey noticed her eyes flick over Casey's hand as though taking measurements or something. "No manicure? Really?"

Casey's mouth opened to retort, but she had barely thought a word before-

"Ignore her," the blonde advised, shooting Casey a grin and pulling out a small notepad from one of her pockets. "Okay, first thing's first-" Casey's throat tightened, knowing they were going to ask her her name, but she was surprised when the girl instead asked, "-how old are you?"

"I- I don't think that's-"

"This data is for the future, hon. Do it for the children," the blonde urged.

"Ew!" Casey's lips twisted in disgust, "Derek is not going to be dating children." He's not even 'dating' me! She thought, but held her tongue.

"What's your grade?" the other- Kit, asked, more tactfully, "And how tall are you?"

"Uh- sophomore, and-"

But Kit had already pulled out a measuring tape.

"Is this- entirely-" Casey could barely speak.

"Did you make a note of the lipstick?" Kit asked Jules, completely ignoring just how uncomfortable their subject was with all of the notes being taken on her.

"You aren't even going to ask my name?" Casey was a little offended.

Jules stared at her, blankly. "Why would we care about names? How do names even slightly relate to the data?"

Kit was shaking her head, "Names ruin the anonymity of the data collection," she admonished, now pulling the measuring tape around Casey's waist, then – before she had a chance to let out more than a protesting scoff – her chest (below the jacket! Really!) and hips.

"So this is-" Casey paused, brow furrowing as Jules held up a fan of paint samples next to her hair, "-this is some kind of… data set?"

"Did he kiss on the first date?" Jules asked, with a new touch of rather unprofessional interest.

"Um- no." How was she even supposed to answer that?

"Interesting…"

Kit was nodding, even as the elevator began to slow, hitting the eighth floor, and answered, to the question Casey barely remembered asking what with the rush of things; "Our final for statistical analysis, actually."

"Oh." Because that made sense. Well, at least, it kinda did. Way more sense than stalkers.

"Also, because one day I intend for Derek to fall madly in love with me." Kit said this with a completely straight face. Casey wasn't sure how to respond. The doors dinged open.

"Have fun!" Jules grinned and nudged Casey out of the elevator doors before pushing '4' and then jamming her finger into the 'door close' button again.

Casey's head was still spinning and she was… at a loss for words.


A/N: This is the second chapter that almost got a clip from 'Girls Chase Boys' by Ingrid Michaelson (thanks to Kit and Jules). But in the end, since that didn't *quite* work for Casey, I went for a lyric from the frantically energetic (as I imagine the elevator scene to be) 'I Think I Like it' by Mojo Magnet. If you listen to this song, you will want to dance.

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