So I was asked when in the series does this take place, and I can't really give a definite point in the series because it has been a long time since I've watched it. All I can say is that it takes place after her relationship with Max ended. Also I thought about writing this chapter in Casey's point of view or at least part of it but I think it should stay in Derek's. It feels right to me. Enjoy. =)

Disclaimer: I do not, and probably never will, own Life With Derek. How unfortunate for me =(

Casey crossed her arms and I could tell she was angry with me. I decided to wait until she told me what she knew before I gave away anything.

"Derek, what do you have to say for yourself?" I shrugged and gave her my trademark smirk.

"I really don't know what you're talking about." I answered and she just glared.

"I know you went into my room. Somehow you forgot to put everything back in place before you left. What do you have to say about invading my privacy like that." Again I just shrugged. "Did you take anything?"

"No, of course not. I was just looking for your stupid diary. I couldn't find it so I left. Now can you go?" I motioned towards the door but she didn't move. I saw her glance at my pillow case and saw a corner of one of the letters sticking out.

"Is Derek Venturi writing love letters?" She scoffed. "So who's this girl that has grabbed your attention and turned you into such a sap?" I said nothing, no lie could come to mind at the moment. She ran to the bed to grab them but I wasn't about to let her see them. Picking her up like a baby, screaming like one too, I carried her to room. Then I shut the door and locked it again. It felt nice to hold her in my arms.

Sighing I laid back in my bed. Then I sat up with a sudden realization. What if she writes another letter?

"Edwin!" I yelled and he was at my room moments later. Good boy. I handed him the envelope with the letters I had already read and some of the later ones, I kept a few that I hadn't yet read. "Put this in Casey's second drawer of her dresser under all the clothes. Without getting caught." He saluted me and said "Yes sir." I retreated back to my room shaking my head. That is one weird kid.

I picked up the next letter and settled in to read.

Like I said, I figured it all out. But the realization was too much for me and I couldn't put it in the last letter. It was hard enough to snap into reality. No wonder you call me Spacey. Emily was right, all the arguments we have are powered with (I can't believe I am saying this about you, of all people) sexual tension. At least on my side. Of course that isn't the case with you. I disgust you. Paul was also right, but I'm not ready to write down that confession.

Today you practically pulled me out of the bathroom. And I must've imagined your hand lingering on my waist. Then when you pulled away it almost seemed awkward, but I have a rather large imagination. Did you feel the electricity when you were touching me though? No, probably not. I always feel it, when we're in the same room, when we're arguing and we end up moving closer and closer, when we would wrestle for the remote. If you want it, you can have it I'm not risking coming into physical contact with you if I can help it.

I have to go now. You just got home and I feel like picking a fight, this realization has me in a bad mood, and I'm taking it out on you. As always. And who doesn't love a good fight?

Me.

I hope the next letter talked about what Paul said, I was dying to know. Unfortunately it didn't.

I despise you, yet I love being around you. Does that make any sense? Your dates have become less frequent. I guess even the big chested blondes can't get your mind of the mystery girl. Is it Kendra? I know you broke up but it could be possible. She's nice enough I suppose but both of you can do better than the other. Not that anything is wrong with her, I like Kendra. Just not with you. Don't ask me why, I don't know. I talked to Paul today. He asked me if I had come to terms with his "thoughts" yet. I changed the subject quickly but I guess that answered his question. What he thinks is so wrong, it can't be legal. But my twisted mind had to know and guess what, it is legal. It makes sense, but that just makes my denial worse. But I prefer denial over rejection.

You just barged into my room. Your hair was a mess but still looked perfect. How do you manage to do that? Oh, but I'm getting off track here. Anyway, you barged in here and I guess I've learned something from you because I did not try to cover this letter up. I was actually very proud that I suppressed the urge. And guess what, it worked. You didn't even ask about it. Must've looked like homework to you. By the way, you should really learn to knock. You came in here talking about something, and you know me I always pay attention, well I honestly have no idea what you were talking about. I was distracted by this letter and you yourself. You ruin my thinking. You ruin everything. I yelled at you to leave and you just smirked. Classic you move. But eventually you left. And now I just realized you stole my math homework. So I'm off to have another fight but in the end I'll late you copy my homework. For some reason I actually care if you flunk out or not. Bye for now.

Me.