A/N: So... It's been forever. Sorry! But for some reason I was struck with inspiration and have resumed writing so... Yeah. So many thanks to everyone who's reviewed/favorited/followed since last chapter!
Chapter Fourteen: I Won't Be Somebody's Hero
She was half way down Derek's hallway when Casey very nearly ran into a kinda-familiar-looking guy (who gave her a look as though he wanted to be much more familiar with her). Luckily, she was completely and totally capable of walking in six-inch heels.
(Meaning she only stumbled a little bit, and caught herself against the wall before taking a spill.)
Once she was entirely sure she wasn't going to fall, and relatively confident that she hadn't made a fool of herself, she glanced over her shoulder briefly to verify the fact that – yep, he was staring at her ass. At least he had the decency to look sheepish about it. It was more than Derek would've done. Not that Derek would ever be staring at her ass. Cause… Well, that was wrong on so many levels. He just wouldn't.
The boy (how did she know him? maybe her physics lecture last year?) shot her a grin that seemed a lot more Derek-y. He seemed in danger of slowing his path and turning around to come hit on her for real. Casey's eyes widened and she hurriedly turned back around, stepping quickly away to avoid any potential embarrassing interactions. Not that she thought she'd make a fool of herself. The guy wasn't bad looking. She just… didn't want Derek to come out and ruin it. That was totally it. It had nothing to do with being intimidated at the idea of being hit on. Nothing at all.
She only managed one knock on the door when it swung open, revealing the oh-so-smarmy smirk of-
"Der-ek!"
She couldn't help it. It was her body's natural reaction to seeing that look on his face. It didn't help that he had one elbow propped up against the wall, looking as though he'd been kept waiting. For her. Casey never-late-always-early McDonald.
"I haven't even done anything yet, Spacey. Save the whining for- actually, never. Just never." He refused to move, keeping her waiting outside his apartment as he looked her over.
Scowling, Casey folded her arms over her chest (and yes, over it, she was already self-conscious enough about this outfit without tempting fate). "Are you going to let me in, Coach?" Her tone was chilly, as was the glare she was directing at him.
His eyebrows shot up as he caught sight of her heels. "That depends, is Klutzilla gonna rampage my living ro- what did I tell you about that, Case?" He'd finally noticed her stance.
Her eyes narrowed.
"You've gotta lift, Case," he smirked, gesturing his hands in an upward motion, "-lift and accentuate. Do I have to-"
She scoffed, dropping her arms to push past him into his apartment. There was no way she'd take this abuse in a public hallway.
"Sure, come on in," Derek muttered under his breath, sarcastically, pushing the door shut unenthusiastically as he turned.
Casey had stopped dead in her tracks just a few feet inside the apartment. When she finally spoke, it was cautious and slightly frantic. "Derek…. What is this?" What she was seeing may have been too good to be true.
The room had been drastically altered from how it had looked yesterday. The kitchen had a string of sports pennants and lights, and a set of coasters and pint glasses on the raised counter, paired with the bar stools, gave off a pub feeling. The living room looked party-ready (including stereo playing top-40 hits, chip bowl, and cheap party napkins), and the dining table had been clothed and set (complete with candles!) to imitate a restaurant (or, y'know, as close as one can get when improvising – which meant a hockey trophy stood in for a vase). Overall, it was an impressive transformation. Casey immediately felt the tell-tale twinge of guilt in her stomach.
"This is your dating obstacle course, Princess."
She was immediately reminded of that time she'd felt like a horrible waitress, and Derek had gotten the whole family to help be mock diners. Sure, maybe she hadn't drastically improved that night, but she sure got a lot more confident, and that ended up being all she needed (well, kinda). Her previous train of thought (the whole 'ew dating-Coach Derek' thing) veered off course as she felt a stinging in her eye, and her voice came out tighter and more watery than intended. "Oh, Derek…"
Casey turned, going to put her arms around him, but he stiffened and quickly darted out of her grasp. "Nuh-uh: no hugs, no tears," he looked slightly panicked.
Well it was his fault. Pulling a fast one, being so sweet. It was times like these she thought that maybe he wasn't such a bad brother.
Stepbrother, she reminded herself. Step.
"What, scared someone will walk in on a heartfelt moment?" She teased (somewhat sappily, she'd admit, but she was a bit caught up in the moment).
Derek had moved all the way to the other side of the couch, well out of her reach. "No heartfelt moments, Casey, remember?" He moved his fingers as though outlining the words in the air, emphatic. "I don't have a heart."
"Likely story." But there he was, looking freaked out to a level that Casey thought might even register a full 2 on her 1-10 freak out scale (an impressive feat for Derek). So she let it drop. "Oh, fine." She rolled her eyes, still grinning goofily, but the tears were quickly dissipating. And she needed to concentrate on the real important thing here: this was an obstacle course. Which meant she needed to succeed. And not only succeed, she needed to exceed expectations. She turned her attention to the dining table. "So," she clapped her hands, "how's this work?"
Derek approached cautiously, just in case she hadn't gotten over her whole tears-and-hugs thing, starting toward the kitchen. "Well, we'll start with bar tips," he gestured to the empty pint glasses on the counter, "then party-going pointers," (the couch and chip bowl,) "and last but not least, the big one-on-one: date night dos and don'ts." He'd finally made his way over to where she stood, but kept out of arm's reach.
"Okay." She could do that. She ignored the surprised look on her stepbrother's face as she walked over to the kitchen counter, pulling out a stool, without a single snarky reply to his plans. Derek followed close behind, looking a little dazed at his good fortune. Or maybe just dazed that Casey would do anything without an argument.
Shifting herself onto the stool, she leaned her elbows on the counter and looked to him, pointedly. When he didn't immediately respond, she waved a hand toward the fridge on the other side of the counter. "Bartender? A drink?"
He smirked. "Oh no, Princess.I'm not the bartender." His swagger returned as he walked leisurely to the end of the counter, watching the confusion on her face warp into suspicion. He slapped his hands on the counter, confidently. "I'm your date."
The only word she could use to describe his smirk (indeed, the only word she decided she should ever assign to him in general) was 'evil.'
"I'm not going to pretend to go on a date with you."
Derek placed a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. "Really, Klutzy? Cause I figured you'd be thrilled." Like he didn't see this coming. It wasn't like he was so eager to fake-date her. (Like he'd put himself through that? He much preferred admiring from afar rather than dealing with her neuroses.) Though, admittedly, he minded it a lot less when she looked like that.
Forget anything he'd said about confidence being all she needed to be sexy, cause he'd obviously been blinded by the whole 'want what you can't have' thing. With the heels? And the cleavage? And that after-sex hair thing going on? Yeah, no, sexy looked good on her. Very good. Too good.
She crossed her arms under her chest this time, her facial expression angry, but tinted with just a touch of curiosity, wondering what this newfound cleavage power was capable of.
"Nice try," he shot her a smug smirk. "You can't play a player, Keener. In case you forgot; I taught you that trick. Yesterday."
Casey pouted, muttering angrily, "And it doesn't even work."
"Oh it works." Derek was a little too quick to respond. He turned away before she could cock her head at him in that curious puppy-dog way, and went for the fridge. "It doesn't work on me, cause – well, I mean, you're Casey – but I can assure you that any heterosexual college dude with a pulse will-" Will take one look at your curves and be way too interested for me, as a stepbrother, (and as a guy who doesn't share his toys,) to allow it. "-Just trust me, Case."
Pulling two bottles from the fridge, he popped them open on the edge of the counter. "Now, shall we begin?"
A/N: Not much happened in this chapter, sorry! I wanted to save it for the next chapter! Anyway, since I didn't have much to work with when finding lyrics, I ended up using lyrics from 'American Zero' by Neon Trees (and yes, I am incredibly aware that Dasey is Canadian). It'll do. I have several songs set aside for later use, but not every one is a winner. XD
(Also, there are lyrics in that song that may or may not be – although they certainly sound like it – "I've got nothing, but I love you, isn't that enough to feel you up?" And, okay, online lyrics searches say "fill" not "feel" but really, I hear it as "feel" and it makes me laugh to think of Derek being a total ass and failing so hard with that line. XD)
And a reminder: the playlist can be found at bit. ly/1Js2Osw (removing the space)
