Day two continued --
Apparently my being home was about the worst thing that could ever have happened to my entire family: (Not that I was being overly dramatic, or anything like that, because I wasn't! )
But…No one in the house seemed to like me very much since the reunion planning thing started. And I was just trying to be helpful!…
And organized!…
And thorough!…
And efficient!…
…but NO ONE appreciates me …NOT AT ALL!
So, Derek was on the couch downstairs.
While Sally was in his room sniffling—(and yes I felt bad about it! ) I am a terrible person.
I have no business liking my stepbrother the way that I do! And now, (just because of my perverted desires), he and his girlfriend (who was once my very good friend) are fighting and she is in the room next to mine—just a thin wall away—crying and it's all my fault!
(I really AM a terrible person!)
But still it is so unfair that everyone in the house hates me right now…
Did I agree to have the big family reunion at our house? No.
Did I leave Marti and Derek stranded at the bakery? No, again!
Did I pick out neon Santa faces, a door wreath that plays jingle bells or lime green tissue streamers (then use part of the streamers to wipe myself, flush it in the toilet watching the entire 73 feet of coiled streamer spiral away—Marti! That little brat!) but the answer is No, No and NO!
All I wanted was to make my mother's family reunion the best possible family reunion it could possibly be…
I was starting to silently sniff along with Sally. Only I had much more to sniff about than HER! (Did I mention the part about no one liking me? sniff sniff)
I was being unfairly blamed for ruining Christmas!
"Casey? Are you talking to yourself?"
"Go Away, Derek!"
"And you're crying too…" he opened the door to lean against the doorframe in that slouchy, sexy way he has.
And what is it about his voice that always gets me? He always sounds a little creaky and low—like someone who just woke up—it's a bedroom voice!
No wonder girls start thinking about spending the night with him the minute he introduces himself; It's some kind of Pavlov dog response. He sounds like he just rolled over in bed next you with that creaky, low, bedroom voice, and then you find yourself looking into those sleepy long-lashed eyes and wanting the little fantasy your having to come true. "Sure, I'll go home with you…"
Derek snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Spacey? You still with me?"
His smirk was softer than usual, eyes slightly bemused instead of challenging. "Hey you didn't happen to write up an alternate plan for putting on this family reunion did you? You know, in case your first plan led to a general family mutiny?"
"Shut up, Derek." I tossed my tear stained pillow at him and it bounced off his head.
He swooped down to grab it off the floor and came at me shaking his head in mock sympathy. "I suppose I can see now that you're just tooooo miserable that your first plan didn't work out…" Pillow gripped in both hands like he was getting ready to smother me with it.
I scrambled backward until my back was against the headboard as he advanced …"Stay back!" but the last word was a little garbled because he'd grabbed my foot and hauled me across to him.
"Yep…I can see that any effort I make to cheer you up will just be wasted…" He grabbed behind my knee—my most ticklish spot—making me scream…
"Der-rek!"
"Like music to my ears," he quipped and smiled greedily down on me while he made me squeal and squirm.
"Looks like instead of comforting you, I better just help you off yourself!" He smashed the pillow over my face and latched onto my other knee. I screeched with laughter and, though I couldn't hear him under the pillow, I could feel the laughter vibrations of his body over mine.
But even the pillow couldn't block out the door beside my own suddenly slamming open and Sally's voice barking out a lower, more authoritative version of my special split-pronunciation of my stepbrother's name. "Der-rek!"
(You know…it wasn't until that very moment that I noticed how utterly useless – absolutely pointless-- my own "Der-rek" was in any given situation. I wasn't ever doing more than just proclaiming my outrage – reacting but not ever really expecting him to actually do anything besides laugh at my general discomfort. No wonder he went through all kinds of wild schemes trying to get that "Der-rek" out of me! It was silly and girlish and… ridiculous! It carried no bite whatsoever –
ESPECIALLY not now that I had heard Sally do it. HER "Der-rek" was filled with expectations…not just measly expectations even
…DEMANDS!
He was up off of me, and facing her, in the little time it took me to shove the pillow off and spit my hair out of my mouth. I watched her with my eyes bulging and my breath short. I just wished I had popcorn!
Cause this, I had to see.
THIS was NOT how to deal with my stepbrother!
Remember that loose cannon thing I told you about before?
You needed to convince Derek of something if you wanted him to do it—logic, guilt, an appeal to his sense of duty or the occasional moment of decency, the promise of reward (like… say… money or pancakes): these were all good ways to convince Derek to do what you wanted him to do.
But this other method? The demand what you want method?
Even George didn't try that on Derek!
That method just plain didn't work!
As a matter of fact that method was a sure fire way to get your ass beat when it came to Derek Venturi.
"I thought you wanted to be alone," Derek said to her darkly.
He pointed in the direction of the hallway, "Go back to my room."
He advanced on her in that slow, tense way that always tipped me off that the "Don't Mess with Me" phase had come to an end, and the "Or Else" phase had just commenced.
Derek grabbed her upper-arm and yanked her out of my room and towards his door. "Go back to bed. And, be ALONE."
Sally's face was flushed bright red and her nostrils flared. I'd never seen her so angry! She was frightening! Maybe more frightening than Derek was in that moment!
My eyes bounced back over to where my stepbrother stood trembling with suppressed rage—and my opinion of who was scariest ping-ponged back to him as well.
Derek was hovering over her, fists clenched. Did he have no self-control left at all? What the hell was going on in Vancouver? Surely he wasn't going to hit her?
"Don't talk to me like that, Derek!" Sally screamed at him. "I'm not some lackey for the Cannucks; I'm not the maid: I'm not your teammate…and I'm NOT one of the flocks of strippers, fan girls and high-priced whores you cheat on me with!"
No, go ahead and do it – Go ahead and gasp! Trust me—I gasped!
He was cheating on her?!!!
He was cheating on her with …flocks…and …whores…and …and …
WAIT A MINUTE, did Sally just say they had a maid?
Oh my god! I cannot believe that they have a maid! Was she live in or just a part-time thing? Did she answer the door and cook too? What the hell kind of unjust world did I live in?! I've been sharing a crappy sixth story walk-up apartment in Toronto, while my obnoxious, lazy, barely graduated high school, stepbrother has a maid. I was pissed! Because, regardless of anything else going on between the two of us, there would ALWAYS still a part of me comparing and competing –and that particular part of me was currently stomping her foot, pointing and crying out to the cruelly indifferent universe, "Not Fair!"
No I haven't forgotten the story! I was getting back to that…
Mine wasn't the only hallway gasp! Lizzie was standing outside her room and holding Marti.
The basement door squeaked open below us.
And, finally, Edwin had come partway down the attic stairs with the look of knuckle biting reluctance that decent, law-abiding men get when they are worried they might be called on to perform some heroic act which will, ultimately, be hopeless, wasted and, most likely result in personal injury and humiliation. "Umm Derek?" Big gulp from Edwin. Then "Umm Sally?" nervous throat clearing from Edwin. "Maybe you should just go back to bed."
But Sally had obviously gone over the deep end!
Because she got even more up in Derek's face, put her hands on her hips and shrilled, "Oh I am going to be alright," she pointed a finger in Derek's face. "And YOU are coming to bed with me!"
I think all four of us "observing" the altercation between them opened our mouths at the exact moment to disagree with her:
"Maybe that's not such a…"
"I don't think…"
"You probably shouldn't…"
"Smerek just gets madder when…"
We were all cut off by Derek's fist punching through the hallway wall, into his room and unbelievably near Sally's face! For about the five millionth time, I wondered what the hell had been going on in Vancouver?
Finally Sally turned and went back into the bedroom. Derek yanked his hand back through the wall and wiped sweat away from his face. Now there were big chalky marks against his cheeks and in his hair.
From inside his room we could all hear Sally swearing up a storm and calling Derek all kinds of combinations of bad words.
I don't think I can repeat any of them, and not just because I won't repeat any of them, but because I was absolutely stunned and staring at my stepbrother in horror.
Derek still looked really mad and not even a little bit apologetic or guilty.
Despite the horror—my heart was breaking a little for him.
I mean… it was pretty clear that George was still falling all over himself in a goofy star-struck way about "my son, Derek, the famous hockey player" and my mom had dropped some not so subtle remarks that made it clear she was glad he wasn't living at home. .. but I couldn't help thinking that the big elephant in the room we were all not talking about was Derek's behavior the past five months and the pretty obvious cry for help it signaled.
Punching his fist through the wall –nearly hitting his girlfriend—was extreme even for someone as aggressive and bristly as Derek.
George and my mom had finally climbed the stairs—George looked in horror at Derek's hand which was now dripping blood along with the chalky plaster dust.
"Son is your hand going to be…." George sputtered. "What about the Cannucks?!"
"OH MY GOD!" I whirled on George.
"There is more going on here than a hurt hand! How many times has Derek shoved broken fingers into
his gloves and played an entire play-off?"
I'd had enough of the elephant! I was going to solve this! I gave a hard look to George, "Go check on Mom and Sally and I'll doctor him up!"
I grabbed at Derek's sleeve and hauled him down the hall and into the bathroom. Before I shut us in, I caught sight of Lizzie gathering our little stepsister in her arms. Poor Marti had been frozen and wide-eyed watching a frighteningly half-crazed Smerek. She was probably traumatized! This had to stop!
In the bathroom I pretty much just stood behind him while he washed his face. When he finished, he slid onto the floor and banged the back of his head against the door. I slumped down beside him.
"Go away, Casey." Yeah right…I knew he didn't really want me to go away…
"You know you don't really want me to go away, Derek." He counted on me to nag him to death in these situations—I had always acted as his moral compass whether he wanted me to or not.
Although, I always knew he did actually DID want me to.
He was always having phone conversations near me, leaving notes and other incriminating evidence where I might find it, pausing near my locker to explain a mean prank or evil scheme to one of his friends. Derek was a master of deceit—he did NOT make mistakes when it came to pranks, schemes and lies…he NEEDED me to keep him from doing things he would regret and we BOTH knew it.
I smiled smugly at him. "So?"
Derek scowled at me but there wasn't much heat behind it. "Don't pull this angel on my shoulder stuff with me, Case. I think you've made enough of a mess out of my life—thanks a lot for that. You know…If it wasn't for you I would be living my dream life in Vancouver with the perfect girl. You ruined it."
His tone was flat and bored sounding—hmmmm…I think he was going for "defeated," but he was just too Derek to ever truly, convincingly pull it off. There was always fight left in him—lots of fight.
"There ARE better ways to break up with your girlfriend, you know."
He rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes. "I'm sure there are."
"But back to the elephant in the room …" I said. I crossed my arms over my chest. We WERE going to do this. I raised an eyebrow at him—he didn't look like he was going to fight it. Perfect. "Lets get started…shall we?"
"Whatever freak."
"You have been cheating on your girlfriend."
"Well…"
"Something that she made it more than clear—that she is perfectly aware of—hmmmmm….interesting…."
Derek rolled his eyes at me.
Interesting BECAUSE …You—being the sneakiest, luckiest, most experienced liar in all of Canada—would not get "caught" –not by Sally at least. Therefore …"
He had slumped his head to the side to give me a "you've got to be kidding me" expression. I tapped at my chin with one fingertip…
"So…therefore…you wanted her to break up with YOU FIRST…then you wouldn't feel like a total asshole for moving out there and moving in with a girl you don't really love."
"I'm left unimpressed, Sherlock, even Edwin and Lizzie are probably coming up with the same brilliant theory…"
"Oh I'm not done though…" I cut him off slapping a hand over his mouth.
"I ALSO think you have been trying this same technique with Cannucks—hoping you get to be enough of a nuisance that they finally boot you out!" He squinted his eyes at me. He wasn't going down that easily.
"Wait! Wait! I have more! Because obviously your twisted plan DIDN'T WORK with Sally or the Cannucks…"
I was tapping my finger on my chin again and now squinting back at him. I peeled my hand off his face.
"…hmmmmmmm…Why didn't it work though? It sure as hell would have worked on me. AND I always thought Sally and I were so much the same…"
More finger tapping as I mused…"Why didn't it work? Did she not care? Did she just ignore it? There is NO WAY if MY boyfriend was cheating with …random fan girls and strippers and …"
"Shut up Casey." He snapped, rubbing at his hair. When he looked down at me his eyes were hard and dark. "Remember Sally using the notarized copy of my contract to get the apartment? Then she paid a decorator and bought a new car…and hired a maid…"
"Oh I caught that maid reference…don't worry…"
"She likes that stuff….she likes being with …" (Derek made quotations in the air)…"The Bad Boy of Hockey". …So…instead of dumping me…she just …looks the other way…" It would have been impossible to miss how his voice caught. He might have regretted moving in with her, and he might have even hoped she would kick him to the curb …but it obviously hurt him to realize he wasn't much more than an attention beacon and a cash-cow for a girl he had moved across the country for.
"Oh," I said lamely.
"Yeah…" he snorted and mocked me…"Oh."
Day three –
Okay now for the sickest, grossest, most disgusting and horrifyingly puke inducing part of the story…. Oh I can barely stand to think about it…
I woke up a little late that morning –with all the action from the night before can you blame me? Not to mention I was a little over-tired from all the coughing fits from the nights before.
But strangely enough… I was awakened by the smell of pancakes. "How odd?!" I thought. Because, until that moment, I WAS the only member of the McDonald-Venturi household to make pancakes. Who was the chef? Who would over-step… I mean step-on…I mean step-up… and make my particular feel-good family favorite breakfast specialty of pancakes?
I followed my nose down the stairs and through the living room (where Derek had apparently picked up all traces of his little campout on the couch—how odd AGAIN. Derek NEVER cleans up after himself.) Could it be that somewhere between playing professional hockey, getting in tabloid recorded fistfights, and cheating on his girlfriend, my ever-so-considerate stepbrother had learned a little about tidying around the home? Could it be? COULD IT?
No it could NOT!
And how did I know this? Because… as I continued to follow the homey, buttery, sweet yet wholesome aroma of pancakes into the kitchen…it became apparent that SALLY had made the pancakes. ( Gosh…how …thoughtful!)
And there was the chief object of her culinary endeavors…DEREK nuzzling her neck with an empty pancake plate in hand…begging for seconds.
AND what EXACTLY was he wanting seconds of?!
Because it was obvious by the rosy glow on Sally's face and the way she was giggling and the teasing way she playfully slapped his hands
away from her body…that her delicious pancakes were not the only thing he had feasted on!
That scum bag! That idiot! He knew she was just using him for his fame and his money (although I'm sure his charm and hot body were not exactly cumbersome obstacles when it came right down to it) but how COULD he?
"Oh Casey! I'm so glad that you're finally up! " Sally gushed. She wasn't above throwing me a superior look despite the spectacle she'd been a part of the night before. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind if Derek and I begged out of the reunion prep for today?"
Derek's face drained of color as he stared at my own expression—which I'm sure was outraged. I could only nod dumbly at Sally's words.
My mother came in from the laundry room with a basket of clothes—smiling—acting as if nothing happened the night before—was I going insane—could it have all been a strange yet incredibly realistic nightmare I'd had? We weren't seriously all going to pretend that nothing had happened the night before –that we didn't all know that Derek was …spending his money on…hookers!…that he didn't punch his fist through the wall…God!
"I think everyone needs a break from reunion prep" my mom sighed. "Not that you haven't done a great job, Casey, but we all might benefit from some time off…"
"Right." I snapped before she could get any further with how much everyone needed a break—from ME. "I'll just do some errands on my own then. Besides… there is THAT HOLE IN THE UPSTAIRS HALLWAY that needs patching and that should occupy me for a while." My voice was shrill and angry. Derek was sucking in one cheek and narrowing his eyes at me…not wanting me to "go there," and bring up the things said the night before, I'm sure…
"Just give it a rest, Case."
"Not to worry, Der…" I tossed my hair and stomped over to grab my purse and coat off the hook .
"Where the hell are you going?" Derek folded his arms and watched me struggle into my boots. "You're still wearing your pajamas…" he added as an afterthought.
I just glared at him and stomped out the door. But, where the hell WAS I going? An arctic cold front had come in over the night and it was almost unbearably cold and windy outside. I started the car and drove down the street before I realized I really only had one place that I could go.
Emily and I had drifted apart senior year while/because she'd been screwing my stepbrother and I hadn't stayed on friendly terms with either Max or Noel (and certainly not Truman) .
The great thing about Sam is that because he has four older sisters, he doesn't think its all that unusual when you show up on his doorstep, crying and wearing designer boots with pajamas. "Hey Casey, come on in."
He was eating a bagel and wearing a white terry bathrobe with sweatpants.
"Did you want some coffee (and to talk about why you are on my doorstep crying in designer boots and pajamas)
…or a place to crash (instead of talking about why you're crying in the boots and pjs)
…or do you need a shower or ….something… (like chocolate or maybe a ride to an abortion clinic, drug treatment center or beauty salon) ?
"I think I'll just crash."
Sam looked relieved, "Well, you know where to go." He gestured vaguely towards his bedroom. "I'm just hanging out today but when you wake up…then…maybe we can…watch a movie?" Sam raised his eyebrows at me –he'd dealt with enough premenstrual / heartbroken /fill in the blank with whatever drives women to near psychosis—but he'd dealt with enough of it to know to be wary.
"Sure Sam. That would be great…"
Sam smiled and kissed my cheek and sent me off to nap in his room.
I decided I just needed to try this day over again. It hadn't worked out so well the first time, and maybe if I went back to sleep I would wake up without the aroma of another woman's pancakes ruining my morning. I threw off my coat and boots and crawled into Sam's warm, messy bed. The perfect place to be on a cold Canadian morning… And ahhh all the bedding smelled like Sam—all cinnamony and outdoorsy boy smelling.
I almost always regretted the boys I dated (once I was done dating them).
I counted most of my time with Max as wasted time I had abandoned myself for a more popular, fun loving and ultimately false persona. Truman and I had parted as enemies.
And Noel? The last time I talked to him, (we ran into each other on campus when I was manning the Canadian Literary Artists of Tomorrow's information table) Noel was still acting all puppy-dog in love with me. (I really never should have dated him knowing the difference in our feelings… )
Then there was (Ugh) Scott and (Eww) Tony from the debate team...
…that guy Kyle who filled my voice mail with long appeals about how I should give us another chance…
Oh and Trent from the dance team (who had suspiciously always wanted to hang around the house whenever Derek was home)... (or Smelly Nellie's when Derek was working), (or the ice rink when Derek was playing)…
He'd actually called me "Derek" the last time we'd made-out and I couldn't help but bust out laughing—because here was someone who actually stood less of a chance than I did!
Not that I ever wanted "a chance" or anything like that!
…But if I HAD wanted my chance then…gosh…I had to have better odds than poor Trent did with ultra-hetero-hockey -horn-dog, Derek Venturi. Trent and I parted as friends actually, but I lived in mortal fear that Derek would find out he was gay, only dating me to get to him and never, ever, ever let me live it down.
But Sam…I never regretted Sam. He took the "lets be friends" thing seriously—which is really rare because ALL those boys I just mentioned (even Satan's evil twin: Truman) ended saying "lets be friends" and a smile but I couldn't imagine showing up on any of their front porches in my pajamas.
And Sam was an especially good friend to have if you were Derek Venturi's stepsister (and the object of the majority of his pranks, jokes and schemes) because… Sam wasn't afraid of Derek.
So he wasn't afraid to tip me off to some rather mean-spirited efforts by Derek to ruin my life. And he wasn't afraid to disagree with Derek when Derek tried to un-invite, dis-include, or non-acknowledge me. Yes I know two of those aren't real words but they still describe the active and aggressive tactics of my stepbrother to keep me at home, dateless and unknown. What a jerk!
And he wasn't afraid to hug or touch me in public or generally not treat me like a leper or like I had been dipped in nuclear waste water and rolled anthrax powder, which is basically the way Derek acted whenever our hands inadvertently brushed against each other or we were told to squish together for a picture.
As a matter of fact, Sam has always treated me more like a loving older brother than Derek who is technically supposed to fill that role! And no of course I DIDN'T WANT him to fill that role but still….why did he always have to be so mean…. What a jerk!
So I was peacefully asleep, nestled in the warm and soothing cocoon of my good friend's flannel sheets and fuzzy blankets when a loud banging noise made me jolt into consciousness. I sniffed the air suspiciously but it remained pancake free—ah comfort.
(Except for the banging noise, of course.) I wrapped Sam's cozy bedding around my shoulders and went to investigate the noise.
"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Sam yelled from the floor beneath me. I could hear the front door swing open.
"Hey D! Sally, hi!"
I looked down from the head of the stairs to where Sam was letting in my very cold looking stepbrother and his girlfriend.
"Sam, man, Sally and I wanted to stop by…." Derek was saying as he shook snow off his boots. Sally rolled her eyes and sighed.
"and I saw Casey's car…" Derek was looking around the front room—looking for me.
"Oh. Yeah, Casey's here, Dude." Sam was still in the white terry robe except now his hair was wet . "She's probably still in bed though."
Derek's eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared; he had spotted me, wrapped in his best friend's blanket at the top of the staircase.
"Oh hey, there she is," Sam was oblivious to his friend's ire. "Case and I were going to watch a movie—you know and avoid the cold out there. You guys should hang out with us. Let me just throw some clothes on."
Derek had locked eyes with me—he was livid. Good. … I pulled the blankets around me tighter so he couldn't see I was wearing the pajamas I had on when I left.
"Sam," I called out. "Do you think it would be okay with Elaine if I borrowed some clothes of hers?"
"Sure," Sam chuckled as he came out of his room behind me and walked down the stairs. "Everyone's been asking about you since I've been home. My parents are just so grateful that you spent all that time working on my election as freshmen class president—it will look so awesome on my resume and my dad still has this fantasy that I'll have a career in politics. Did Casey tell you guys about how she volunteered as my campaign manager?"
"Wow," Sally grumbled to Derek. "Seems every time we turn around we're hearing about another of you sister's amazing accomplishments."
Derek made an indifferent grunt but that indifference was all show. I could see the emotions warring in his eyes. He felt worried hearing about all the extra work I'd taken on, angry about finding me with Sam, guilty about flirting with Sally this morning and irritated that no one saw my "amazing accomplishments" as the self-destructive acts they really were.
I couldn't handle the intensity between us, so I scampered off to Elaine Shepherd's bedroom for something to wear.
All Sam's sisters were flat-chested, lanky, and tall (basically Sam-looking, but female, which actually translated into perfect runway model good looks. As a matter of fact three of his four sisters were models).
They jetted all over the world during the fall and spring fashion seasons (incredibly glamorous) and were consumed with dieting, working out and exfoliation during the remaining time (so not glamorous that it wasn't even funny).
And I am telling you this, because it explains the importance of my needing Elaine's clothes to borrow, as she was the only non-model sister and, therefore, owned more than just evening-wear and sweatpants.
"Sam – where the hell are Elaine's clothes? Her whole room has been turned into a gym!"
"Whoops! I forgot that she had a meltdown when my sisters came back from fall fashion week and moved out. She even called Becky a "shallow whore" – my dad said it was kind of awesome."
And knowing Becky Shepherd – let me tell you it WAS kind of awesome. Oh and let me add Becky Shepherd (plus friend!) to the list of "girls whose names I know " who spent time moaning and panting on the other side of my bedroom wall!
I may not have "plus friend"'s name to add but still… Derek had some nerve screwing Becky Shepherd plus friend (for 5 long and loud hours straight I might add) after inflicting his "Male Code" on Sam and me. Five Hours! and Plus Friend! That has to break not just the "Male Code" but all kinds of other codes more generally accepted by society. Derek is disgusting!
Anyway…Let me get back to the story…(if you aren't to grossed out after picturing Derek with two women and imagining what he might have been doing to them to elicit five hours of pornographic exclamations: "Oh my god, Derek!" "Don't ever stop, Derek!" "I've fantasized about this for so long, Derek!" )
Oh you aren't grossed out then?
Not even a little?!
And, NO I don't have any details! I was in the other room trying to plug my ears with Kleenex and rubber cement!
And now I'm thinking that you're almost as disgusting as Derek!
So ANYWAY… I ended up scrounging an outfit together from the other Shepherd sisters wardrobes –which explains why I was wearing a super-short black satin mini skirt and a peach camisole/clingy sweater combo-thing that (combined with the designer boots) made me look like a total hoochie mama.
An opinion confirmed for me when I walked down the stairs to the gaping expressions of Sam, Sally and my near-salivating stepbrother!
"W…w…wow, Casey, you look amazing" Sam stuttered.
"Aren't you a little over-dressed to watch movies?" Sally huffed.
"Go change." Derek's voice was deadly serious and his face was impassive as stone.
"I will NOT go change!"
"Yeah. You will."
"Will NOT!"
I settled into the couch next to Sam who slung an arm around me in a friendly way—a friendly way that Derek obviously didn't remember we used with each other.
"Listen…it's nearly five," Derek started. "Maybe we should go out…" He was eyeing Sam's hand as Sam sort of rubbed at my arm in an absent-minded way. "We shouldn't just sit around on Winter Break! Lets go DO something."
"Like what?" Sally whined. But Sam looked thoughtful.
"You know, D, I just remembered that Ralph said something about having people over to his place for a party tonight…kind of a high school reunion thing. Let's head over there in a couple hours." Sam grabbed the remote and pulled me closer to him. "You look cold Casey, snuggle up okay?" Sam leaned into me and started watching the television. "Let's catch some hockey for a few hours and order some Chinese. "
I smiled meanly over at my stepbrother and got up to order the food, "See Derek, I'm wearing the perfect thing for the party tonight." I sat up on the arm of the couch near where he had been lounging with Sally.
He didn't look all that loungy anymore though; he looked about ready to strangle me! He was sitting up stick-straight and his eyes were flicking over my body the way they'd been doing since I first walked down the stairs in my slut-wear.
I crossed my legs slowly and wound the phone cord around one ankle. "Anyway, I'm really looking forward to seeing some of the old crowd… I haven't kept in touch with any of my other old boyfriends as well as you, Sam…"
Derek's eyes could have melted steel. His hands clenched into fists.
But I ignored him. "…and I'm soooooo looking forward to reconnecting…"
TBC