Disclaimer: You know. I do not own Life with Derek. All I own are my stories.

A/N: So, I'm dedicating this chapter to all the people that have reviewed so far. It's the longest chapter so far. Keep up the reviews! I love hearing what you think! Even if it isn't a compliment. Seriously. And I accept anonymous reviews now, so please stop and take the time to review. Well, that's all I have to say. Enjoy!

Chapter 5… Yeah, I Promise

x o x x o casey's p.o.v. o x x o x

"So…" my mom said after dinner continued in deafening silence. Even Marti was quieter than usual. "Casey, anything interesting happen in school today?"

"Yeah Case, make anymore lesbian friends?" Derek said, swallowing a piece of chicken that had apparently been too much for him to handle. I glared at him.

"What?" my mom said, immediately looking up from her plate, eyes flitting suspiciously from Derek to me.

Derek ignored my mom's inquiry and kept his eyes unblinkingly on me, tilting his head slightly to the side before adding, "Because, she'd have to be a lesbian to turn me down."

"She's not a lesbian. She just has taste," I quipped, meeting his fiery gaze.

"Speaking of taste, have you tasted the chicken?" Derek said, stuffing a piece of said chicken into his mouth afterwards. "Hmm… Yummy…" he said provokingly.

"Derek," George stated warningly, his eyes focusing in on him as if to pose a threat.

"Whatever," Derek mumbled, breaking our heated stare and returning his eyes to his chicken.

"I'm sorry, I can't deal with this right now," I said before getting up and leaving the table as quickly as possible. I heard George say Derek again in exasperation as my mother let out a huge sigh. None of this stopped me as I ran up the stairs, sometimes taking more than one step at a time. When I reached my room, I sat down on my bed and clutched my stomach, feeling the hollowness under my fingers. We hadn't gotten that far into dinner and I hadn't eaten any of it because Derek kept staring at me, like he was challenging me to eat it, like if I did he'd win this little battle he was fighting with me.

I heard my stomach grumble loudly into the silence of my room and got up and took a box out of my closet. My secret stash of food. I swallowed down half of all I had in it and sat for a second, letting my stomach feel the satisfaction of being full and resting my throat before I could unceremoniously yank it all out again.

Leaning against the foot of my bed, I closed my eyes and let my mind take me where it would. Which was back to the beginning of all of this.

"I can't do this anymore Sam," I said, closing my eyes tight, hoping the pressure would stop the tears from even forming. "I can't keep losing you over and over again. I mean, what am I doing wrong? Is there something wrong with me? Am I not good enough?" I asked, my voice shaking slightly.

"Casey, it just isn't going to work," Sam said. I felt his eyes on the nape of my neck and heard him sigh. He looked away. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too. Sorry for ever getting myself in this mess," I said, standing up so quickly I saw lights in my eyes. My head felt heavy as I made my way back up my porch. I paused for a second to say, "Good bye, Sam. For real this time."

I ran up to my room, ignoring the calls from Lizzie and my mom as I closed my door and took off my shirt to put on a bigger, comfier shirt. But I found myself pausing to look in the mirror. My stomach was bloated with food from the break-up dinner with Sam. You aren't good enough for Sam. Not good enough for anybody.

I grabbed a big shirt and hastily pulled it over my head before rushing to the bathroom. My head was spinning with thoughts. Thoughts about Sam. Saying he's found someone else. Probably a size 0 ditz with perfect blonde hair and a perfect body. I stared at myself in the mirror, lifting my shirt to see my stomach. My ugly, protruding stomach.

So it used to be about being good enough. Now it was really just about having something to control. Or so I told myself.

A few days after that night, I remember finding an old toothbrush and depriving my stomach of dinner.

I shudder every time I think about what I actually do. I clutched my folded legs tightly to my chest, keeping my eyes closed as I rested my head on knees and took a deep, quivering breath.

"Casey?" I jumped at the voice and turned to my closed door. "Can I come in?" Upon hearing the voice again, I recognized it as Derek's and I closed my eyes again.

"No," I said. He came in anyways. As quickly as I could I shoved all the wrappers into the box at my feet and closed the lid. Derek saw the lid close as he came closer.

"What's that?" he asked. I turned to look at him.

"Nothing," I said, clutching it tightly to my stomach.

"Come on, Case," he said gently, in the most un-Derek-like voice I've ever heard. "What's in the box?"

"Well," I said, an answer on the tip of my tongue. "If you absolutely must know it's some um… Stuff that reminds me of Sam. Stuff he gave me or commented on," I said, all while placing it back on the top shelf of my closet.

I smoothed the imaginary wrinkles in my shirt, looking down at the floor, my back to Derek.

"So…" Derek said. I turned just enough to see him standing with his hands in his pockets. I saw his eyes shift down from my face and to my stomach. He sucked in his breath at what he saw. I don't know why. It's close to normal… Well, it never will be, but you know.

He closed his eyes, furrowing his brows and forming a tight line with his mouth. "Uh, where were you today?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

"Is this what you came in here for? To interrogate me?" I snapped, turning to face him fully, arms over my chest.

His eyes snapped open and he matched my irritated gaze. "No, I actually came to say I'm sorry. For what I said," he said, jaw tensed and jutting out.

"Well," I said huffily, "I'll believe that when you mean it. Get out."

Derek sighed, but for once he listened to me and started to leave. He was in the doorframe when he paused to turn around and say, "I just… care about you Casey." He turned and looked at me, this blank expression on his face. But his eyes. I swear, there was this look in his eyes that made me feel it. Even worse than my mother. I suddenly felt like coming out and saying exactly how I felt about everything. About what I suddenly felt towards him.

But before I could even truly consider this option, I heard his door close softly from across the hall. Tears stung the corners of my eyes and I walked quickly to the bathroom, practically colliding with the door, which was closed to my great frustration.

"Open the hell up!" I yelled, my voice cracking and sounding hoarse.

"I'm busy!" I heard Edwin say.

Oh god. That's another thing about this business. It never smells pretty.

"EWW!" I said. "Well, just hurry up. I need in there," I said, slightly quieter than before.

I heard a slight pause, followed by the flush of the toilet and the running of water from the sink. Then the door opened and a suspicious Edwin stood in front of me. I almost forgot that everyone had found out.

"You're not about to… You know…" Edwin said, his bushy brows colliding above his nose.

"Uh, no," I said. "No I'm not."

Edwin continued to look up at me, this strange look in his eyes, like he was trying to read my mind. "You promise?" he said. I saw his eyes become glassy and hopeful. Just seeing his eyes like that was enough for me to breakdown.

"Yeah, I promise," I said, looking down at the strip of floor between us, chewing on my bottom lip until I was sure it would bleed.

An awkward silence ensued until Edwin stopped trying to make out my thoughts and looked down at the floor as well. "Okay," he said into the electric air between us before passing me quietly and walking up to his room in the attic, leaving the bathroom vacant and smelling disgusting.

Well, I thought, Promises aren't always meant to be kept. And what they don't know won't hurt them… Just me.