Chapter 3: The Unlikeliest of Friends
He should be happy they broke up.
So why isn't he?
One-shot.
0-0
"So," Paulie began, leaning against the lockers, waiting for Casey as she dug around for her History notes, "I think we should skip first period and have a bout in the janitor's closet."
Casey poked her head out, studying her expression, attempting to figure out if she was joking or not.
"You should know the answer to that one." Casey deadpanned, shutting her locker door.
A slow smirk grew upon the girl's face, her yellow eyes glinting. Pulling a chocolate brown strand from Casey, face, she leaned in close.
Casey fought a smile. "Five minutes, Pauls. I'm not going to be late for class."
"I love compromise," Paulie declared, taking Casey's wrist, leading her to the closet down the hallway where the swimming pool and gym doors were.
In the darkness, Casey whispered, "This is risky, Pauls."
"Well," Paulie said, kissing her neck, "I'm not at all opposed to being open about this, you know."
"Like you've mentioned a million times," commented Casey, kissing her, hands holding her face, "But you know what my answer is, 'cause it's been the same those million times,"
Paulie chose to answer by kissing her—an effective way of shutting her up—and Casey let her have her way (for once).
"I gotta go, Pauls."
Paulie pouted, grabbing her wrist and kissing her again. "It's not even a lunch day for us," she whined. Casey had set up Tuesdays and Thursdays as their designated lunch days; the other three days she made an appearance in the cafeteria, just so she could keep any suspicions low.
Being Casey, she made an entire schedule of when they could spend time together during school (mornings, unless she had some tutoring thing and Friday afternoons, they'd get something to eat or go to her place). Otherwise, Casey was off limits.
Wrapping her arms around her neck, she pulled her close and Casey let out a little sigh, pressing her forehead against hers. "Of course, you had to making leaving a bit complicated."
Paulie simply grinned, kissing her on the cheek and pushed her along.
"Have fun in history," Paulie said, and Casey simply rolled her eyes in reply.
It was a general rule that Casey leave first, Paulie a few minutes later; she preferred it that way, anyway—just so her heart would stop beating so hard and her lips would stop tingling the way they did whenever she kissed that girl; sure, she acted cool about it, acted like Casey didn't send her senses into overload or make her weak in the knees.
Grabbing her bag, she opened the door with a deep breath.
And the first thing she saw was him, wet hair in his face, shouldering his hockey bag. He stared at her, and she stared back; she was acutely aware of her heartbeat, aware of his eyes, aware of what he was thinking.
He studied her with those eyes, bitterness rising, adrenaline running through his veins.
He hated her.
0-0
She was stealing a smoke at the back of the school during lunch, tapping her knee nervously. Sucking the smoke into her lungs, she closed her eyes, holding it in.
(She was well aware that it was a disgusting habit, and that health-wise it was stupid, especially with pierced lips, but she'd been thinking about taking them out anyway, and really, she didn't care much at the moment.)
She faintly heard footsteps, and hurriedly smashed the cig, popping a peppermint in her mouth. Turning to run in the other direction, she hesitated a moment too late, and what's-his-face, her skills teacher (it was technically her bullshit class; she did her homework that period) clamped his hand on her shoulder.
Shit.
"Paulette, is it?"
"Paulie," she mumbled.
"Either way, I think we should take a visit down to the principal's office, don't you?"
Paulie didn't respond, and so he took her to Lassiter's. He spoke to the secretary, and she nodded, glancing at her. When he left, she tossed a snarky, bitchy smile her way.
Slumping in the seat, and tilting her head back, she made shapes on the ceiling with her eyes; she used to love that game as a kid, and her kid sister asked her to play it often with her.
Well, used to. Her dad was down in Chicago, and he took Anna with her, and so she only got to see her on Christmases or on (rarely) spring breaks.
"Oh, you're here too," snarked the secretary, "Take your usual seat."
She looked up, and saw him there, and his eyes darkened; she looked away. He slumped down in the seat farthest from her, and she could feel his toxic eyes on her, his hate seeping into her veins and causing shivers to run up her spine.
Twenty minutes later, she let out a sigh of relief when Lassiter called her in. He looked vaguely surprised when she nearly ambushed him getting into his office.
Lassiter made the usual snarks about how smoking was bad for her, and that smoking on school grounds had an automatic three day suspension, but since she was new (and had never caused any trouble before) he let her off with a one-day suspension instead.
"I will, however," he warned, "be calling your mother and teachers into a meeting to discuss this further."
"Why?" she asked, before she could stop herself.
"Ms. Landar, you've just earned yourself three days—and weekly visits to the guidance counselor."
She was about to argue, but he called Derek in and she bolted—he managed to brush against her.
She felt his eyes on her as she continued scurrying from the office like a fucking rabbit; and she was sure he was smirking at her with that stupid fucking smirk and she kind of felt like hitting something right now.
0-0
She wasn't out of trouble for long—the school day ended far too quickly, and Paulie's plan of darting away before Casey found her was thwarted by her loving stepbrother.
"Hey, Casey's looking for you," he said, with that glint in his eyes and smugness rich in his voice.
"I'm sure you put in such a good word for me," she snarked. He grabbed her arm—her body stiffened, and she realized in that moment that she was actually scared of him. Him, Venturi, the annoying smartass who managed to make her feel guilty on a daily basis.
Casey was at her locker, and Derek called, "Found her, Case!"
He shoved her next to his stepsibling and waved, cheerfully wishing them a nice, long chat.
Fucking asshole, Paulie fumed.
The brunette was about to open her mouth, no doubt to spew some crap about how she was disappointed in her, but Paulie cut her off.
"Casey, I really don't want to argue right now," she said tiredly. "Please?" she added weakly.
Casey stared at her, debating on whether or not she would yell at her, and succumbed to the dejected look on the other girl's face; "Fine," she said finally, "But you better not screen your calls, I'm going to call you tonight."
She wanted to ask for a hug, but judging by the look on the elder girl's face, she figured she'd just keep her mouth shut.
"So, um, I'll talk to you later."
Casey nodded crisply; for a moment she wondered why her girlfriend had to be so fucking maternal all the damn time, but instantly waved the thought away and knew that Casey was being Casey and was just trying to implement good habits in her, or something.
Half-heartedly she wished Casey would just say c'mere in that soft voice and just fucking hug her, but Casey whirled away, heading towards the parking lot.
So much for that.
0-0
When she got home, her mother pounced on her, icily making a comment about how her day must have gone well.
"Is it that girl?" She said girl like it was some toxic word, some dirty word implying corruption and disease; Paulie's eyes flickered to hers, challenge and contempt flaring in her eyes.
"Her name is Casey, and no, I'm in deep shit with her, too, thanks for reminding me," she snarled sarcastically.
"I guess you're smart enough to know you're grounded." Her mother said, raising a brow.
"Thanks for not underestimating my intellect," she muttered, rolling her eyes.
"Intellect? Yeah, sweetie, that's a little compromised, since you got caught smoking a cancer stick. And by the way, it's three months. I want you to give me any cigarette you have, and you aren't getting allowance for three months, either."
Paulie rolled her eyes again, and realized how much like her mother she really was; sometimes it was a little irritating.
"I'll leave a chore list for your three days off! My car's really needed a good cleaning for a while now!" her mother called after her cheerily.
Paulie's response was her door slamming.
Yeah, it was really irritating.
Casey didn't call till eight, and frankly, Paulie was relieved, because it meant she hadn't devised the tortuous idea of giving her the silent treatment.
"So I'm grounded for three months. And I won't get money. And I have to go visit Paul. And my mom and teachers and I are going to have a meeting." Paulie offered, hoping that just maybe life sucked enough for that one stupid cigarette and maybe Casey would be Sweet Casey.
Casey sighed. "Paulie, I want to take a break."
Paulie sort of sputtered at that, not expecting those words at all, and what the hell did she call that little session in the closet that morning?
And her throat was closing up, and her stomach dropped, and she wanted to break the stupid phone; and Casey continued, somehow still able to continue ripping apart her heart, "So…I…Um, well, yeah. I just need some time to think, Pauls. That's all. I mean, I think we're really, really different and…I dunno, Pauls. Maybe we're not right for each other."
Then Casey made some bullshit excuse about how Lizzie needed the phone or whatever, and she managed to let out some strangled remnant of a farewell, and then the phone clicked.
To the silence around her, she whispered what she could barely say. But I fucking love you, Case.
0-0
She didn't do chores over the next three days. She ate whatever chocolate or sugar she could find and cried over The Lion King and The Notebook.
Her mother had plenty to say on the first day, when she saw her daughter slumped on the couch, staring at the TV glassy-eyed.
On the second day, she figured it out after the few grunts Paulie used as answers.
The third day, she made her favorite for dinner and kissed her goodnight.
Her heart made that familiar clench when she realized her little girl wasn't so little anymore; she was growing up.
It made her feel alone.
0-0
Paulie seriously considered faking sick on Friday. But she knew there was going to be some meeting and she might as well go to school before her grades plummeted into C average or some shit; she threw on a pair of jeans and a long sleeved black shirt.
Her mom offered her some toast; she merely grunted and grabbed some breakfast bar, stuffing it in her bag.
"I changed the meeting to Monday," her mother said.
Paulie looked at her, and mumbled thanks before darting out the door to catch the bus.
"Have a good day," her mother said to the emptiness around her. Though she knew today would be the hardest.
Maybe she'd pick up some ice cream on the way home.
0-0
Arriving at school early was terrible. She took all the back ways, took the long way around, just to make sure she wouldn't run into her, and if she managed to avoid her all day, maybe she could force that stupid lump down her throat.
Half an hour into first period, though, she grabbed a bathroom pass, going to the bathroom, narrowly hiding her face from the two girls at the mirror. She entered a stall, pressing a palm against the wall.
She would not cry. Absolutely not.
But before she knew it, she felt the wetness on her cheeks, and she bolted from the bathroom, choosing to curl up into the janitor's closet instead (it was painful to go back there, but it was better than that bathroom).
The bell rang, signifying the end of first period, and shit her bag was in the classroom still, and she wondered how much her day could get worse.
Her teacher (predictably) gave her a detention, not even caring about her puffy and bloodshot eyes; she took the slip of paper without a word and grabbed her bag.
She managed to steer clear of both Casey and her oh-so-wonderful stepbrother, and she even survived till lunch.
Shit hit the fan when the lunch bell rang. She'd intentionally waited for everyone to vacate the classroom before hightailing it to the library; at least she could hide there, pretending to read.
But for some inexplicable reason, that boy in that stupid fucking leather jacket just had to be there; and he spied her right off the bat. She started walking backwards, her foot hitting some shelf and knocking it over, causingeveryone to look up; he opened his mouth and laughed, it echoed in her ears and she wanted to kill him.
She ran.
Running while tears are pooling in one's eyes is not a good idea; she hit someone and the force of the blow caused to her fall flat on her back; and he helped her up.
"Are you okay?" Trevor asked, genuinely concerned.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," She said hurriedly, knowing the tears were falling now, but she really didn't want to talk to anybody.
"Gotta go," she said, and left before he could even protest.
0-0
The weekend sucked, as she'd expected, and on Monday, she really wasn't looking forward to that stupid meeting.
Her teachers basically said that while she typically turned in her work, and did it well (apparently they could tell she was smart, even if she made stupid choices) she had the amazing talent of not being able to hear the bell ring, and was consequently late.
Or, you know, sometimes she just wouldn't show up at all.
So that didn't go so good, and her mother's expression suggested further punishment; though she did make a snarky comment to Lassiter as to why she wasn't informed of this earlier, and he simply sputtered at her.
And then Paul came in, clearly rushing. He introduced himself and Paulie just sort of glared at him. Paul had relations to Casey. And Casey was seriously off-limits.
"We think Paulie should visit Paul," everyone sort of smirked at this—Like, hehe, Paulie and Paul!—except the two mentioned. Paulie frowned, and Paul just looked like he wanted to get this all over with.
Somehow, her teachers felt that she had issues and that she had been exhibiting some worrying behavior (like what? Paulie mused, she wasn't some depressed antisocial freak, she was just her and sure maybe she wasn't exactly conventional but she didn't see where the worrying behavior came in) and they felt having someone to talk to would help.
Her mother looked a bit peeved at this; annoyed, no doubt, of it being implied she didn't know her own daughter, or that they couldn't talk about serious things.
"I'll be looking forward to speaking with you, Paulette," said Paul.
"Paulie."
"Right, sorry. Paulie."
0-0
Tuesday morning, her not-seeing-Casey run had ended; she was talking to some boy, animatedly, and Paulie felt her gut churn.
Fuck you, Casey.
She tilted her head up, walked past, close enough for their shoulders to brush against each other; Casey looked up. Paulie pretended to not see her and walked down the corridor, hiding a twisted smile.
After school, (despite her mother's orders of come straight home!) she walked in, knowing that Casey was going to be there.
Two can play at this game, Case.
She ordered a strawberry malt, feeling Casey's eyes on her; she refused to give in and stare back, because if she did she'd drop this act in a second and probably do something stupid.
The malt came, and she drank it slowly, her tongue flickering to catch the stray drops from the straw.
She left a four dollar tip, feeling victorious.
Casey watched her the entire time.
0-0
"So," Paul began, "Is there anything you'd like to talk about?"
"I'm not crazy."
"Well, certainly not. But I know high school is stressful—"
"Is there a rule about talking? I mean, do I have to?"
"Well, I suppose not but—"
"Consider this your free time. I'll go my way, you go your way."
"Or, you know, you could talk to me. It doesn't have to be personal."
"Look, I know they think sending me here is like, the best thing to do because apparently I scream disillusioned lesbian freak, but seriously—there's nothing wrong."
"So Casey breaking up with you doesn't bother you."
Her head jerked up. "How the fuck do you know about that?"
"Casey does talk to me—"
"What did she say?"
"I'm not at liberty to discuss that."
She stood up, grabbing her bag. "You know—" she said, hands shaking, "I really don't need this, so, you know, thanks for nothing."
Casey was sitting on one of the chairs outside Paul's office as she stormed out. The brief moment the two stared at each other was awkward.
"Paulie—"
"He's all yours," she blurted out, and turned round the corner.
0-0
The doorbell rang at ten that night, and her mother was already asleep, so she took a break from the essay she was writing and answered the incessant ringing.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Paulie asked, out of surprise more than spite.
"Look," Derek muttered, "You know as well as I do that I don't like you, and I'd really rather be anywhere than at your damn doorstep, but Casey won't shut up about you, so you should, you know, come over and talk to her. Or something."
Paulie looked at him suspiciously. "Aren't you supposed to comfort her and get brownie points and then like, score?"
Derek sighed. "I don't know why I'm doing this, so I suggest you get in the damn car before I change my mind."
Paulie grabbed her jacket, not about to argue.
0-0
"Why are you here?" was Casey's first eloquent question when Paulie appeared at her bedroom door, leaning against the frame.
She shrugged. "I've been sworn to secrecy."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"Fine, Case. I'm here because a little birdie told me to stop acting like a bitch and tell you what you didn't hear."
She shut the door behind her.
"What didn't you tell me?" asked Casey faintly, her face pale.
Paulie raised a brow. "I," she took a step closer to the girl that was now off her bed and standing up, "love you, you idiot."
"What?" Casey squeaked.
She took her face in her hands, pulling her close to her own, "My heart beats really fast whenever I see you or I think of you or when touch you and your kisses leave me weak kneed and everything I talk or hear or even see, it all relates back to you and yeah, I guess I'm crazy for you." She released Casey from her grasp and shrugged.
"I just needed to tell you that, I guess. So, um, I guess I'll be going, now."
"Paulie," Casey began lightly, carefully.
"You don't need to, you know, feed me comforting words or some shit—"
"Shut up and kiss me."
It took her a moment to process the words—Did she just say what I thought she said?—but Casey advanced on her and that was all she needed; she grabbed her close and kissed her, and god she had missed those lips
And Casey was pulling her to the bed now, and
Mmm, she couldn't think
"Mmm, Casey," those lips on her neck were seriously making her mind cloudy, "Casey, hold on for a sec, okay,"
Casey looked bewildered.
"Shh, I'll be back in a sec, okay?"
And she went next door, where Derek was pretending to search for a computer game on his shelf, but she so knew he'd been eavesdropping.
"Weak-kneed?" Derek said, when she stood in his room, "Wow, I can't believe Casey fell for –"
She grabbed him in a hug and he kind of squawked at that, totally confused as to how he was suddenly getting hugged by the girl that was supposed to hate him.
Derek gave her a what the fuck? look.
"Thank you, Derek."
"Yeah, yeah. This," he pointed to the space between them, "Never happened."
"What never happened?" Paulie called, heading back to Casey.
Casey looked at her, and Paulie just shrugged.
She could explain later.