Okay, so this chapter totally sprung up randomly when I was not trying to write it. Yet I did. And I kind of hate it and some remarks in it. But I'm lazy, so it's not changing. Anyways, I wanted to get it out by Valentine's Day, so here it is. Um, yeah, I really think you're going to hate this chapter.
Warning: This chapter is not at all romantic. Not really. So it's like a twisted Valentine's Day chapter. But yes, in the fic, it is Valentine's Day. And yeah, since a lot of this chapter is Casey's thoughts and yeah... This chapter's pretty much a filler chapter because the next chapter's exciting. Derek's next couple of chapters are way more interesting than this one and Casey's next one, although, I suppose, that should be dramatic too... Can't spoil it too much, after all. ;) Casey's weird and all over the place in this chapter, but she's been crazier... rarely bitchier, but less crazy. Oh, she's controlling and power-hungry... or powerful, too, I guess. Derek's... he's... I dunno. It's just very clear that the dynamic of their relationship is changing a lot to something a whole lot worse and darker than it originally was. Next chapter Derek's going to be even meaner, so keep that in mine. I know he seems kind of lost in this chapter, but he will be back with a vengeance. Other than that, Casey pretty much fills in all the holes.
Oh, yeah, don't own Life with Derek, because it's on Disney and they obviously don't swear. Or drink. Or smoke. Or have sex. Or make allusions to dirty things like they do in half of this chapter. So, clearly, it's Life with Derek darkened up a little and fleshed out a bit more and realized, er, made more realistic. Like if artistic Goths attacked with charcoal and black colored pencils.
Anyways, hope you enjoy!
"You can't let Derek get in the way of your happiness."
It's Valentine's Day, and I should be happy, right?
I'm dating the man I love (again), at top of my class, and my evil stepbrother is finally ignoring me. By all definitions, I should be on the top of the world... I've got everything I've always wanted.
Only I'm not. I haven't so much as kissed my perfect boyfriend on the mouth, and it's been about a week. Every time I try, some guy's face pops into my mind. I'll get this awful mental picture of how I found him in that bathroom, or Dean's face will flash in my head, or... Or I'll see Sam all over again, wiping his lips, all exposed and... With his hand up that slut's skirt. And I just freeze. I seriously can't do it, can't go there. Because he becomes dirty to me all over again, and I can't touch him.
I can barely even look at him half the time. And then, sometimes, when I'm with him, I'll see Derek's face.
And that's worse. Worse than imagining my boyfriend cavorting with every man in the province, worse than catching him in the act. That just makes me sick, and it hurts, but it doesn't make me feel genuinely awful inside. After all, I have no reason to feel awful about what Sam did. It's what I did that haunts me.
I'm not like them. I actually feel guilty. I don't want to, but I'm not wired like that, like Derek. After all the crap he's done to me and all those poor girls he's made fall in love with him, he had it coming. Karma's a bitch, right? So then I was a bitch, and I thought it was okay because he's such an ass. But it's not. Even Derek doesn't deserve treatment like that. At least, that's what my conscience keep telling me. I keep trying to tell myself that he deserves it, and, to some extent, he does. He wasn't exactly Mary Sunshine himself.
The weirdest thing was that I didn't break up with him to be with Sam. I didn't even want to be with Sam. I just said I still loved him, and I do, but love isn't everything... y'know? And I thought Derek would get that, but obviously he didn't. Derek said so many mean things, just one after the other, and then he completely blew me off when I wanted to talk things out. So I snapped and maybe I said some downright brutal things that weren't entirely true, but I just figured... if he was going to be such an asshole, then why bother?
After all, I don't love Derek anyways. Besides, if he thought I was the kind of girl who was just going to drop him like that, then he didn't know me at all. I wouldn't do that. So I thought, well, if that's what kind of girl you think I am, then I might as well end this. I had to end it like that. I couldn't let him keep the satisfaction of dumping me. Then he had the nerve to ask for conditions on top of it! You know, I was sure good at pretending I was okay with that.
I wasn't. Not at all. It made me feel cheap and used. So much of our relationship was that... sex. Yeah, it was a relationship. I'm not dumb enough to say it wasn't. I only told Derek that because I didn't want to admit to that. To having a relationship with my stepbrother. I guess I was still in denial, but I was ashamed. Ashamed of it, and worse still, of the way I'd acted while I was with him. Like some kind of sex fiend. Maybe that's why I haven't touched Sammy. Why I never touched Sam.
Derek was right, though... That really was the best part of our relationship, which is a sadder thought every time I think it. It makes me feel so shallow and skanky. I mean, Derek was really sweet, gentler and nicer than I could've ever thought. He treated me like a princess, and we'd never even argued up until he found out about Sam. I don't blame him for getting mad, but he totally overreacted. I wasn't going to...
You see, I felt like the world's biggest hypocrite, condemning my little sister for genuinely liking Edwin while I was in a relationship with Derek who I didn't even... Sex used to mean something to me. Back when I thought everything was fine in my relationship with Sam, back when I still believed in love. I wanted to make love in the honeymoon suite under soft candlelight with romantic music playing in the background. But everything changed when I saw Sam in that bathroom. The expression lost all meaning to me because it hadn't been intensely personal for Sam. He'd just done whoever was around, and how do you think that made me feel?
He as good as threw me into Derek's arms. I can't forgive him for that. This whole mess I'm in is his fault, and I can forgive him for everything except that, but I can't forget. That night... I was drunk, no, not in the conventional way, but drunk off the heartbreak and the pain and the tears. I couldn't think straight. I was torn between hurt and anger and the latter won out in the end. My mind left me, and suddenly there Derek was, being all caring and considerate and showing that at least he cared in the way Sam never seemed to. It made me wonder why I'd resisted him for so long.
He'd been right the entire time about Sam, I thought, so maybe he was right about this too. The chemistry, at least, was undeniable. It felt good, too. Good to know that someone gave a damn after all. Especially Derek, because I'd been so mean to him. It was like he was a changed man, almost. The fact that he pushed me away and fought it for so long just made me want him more. I guess that's how he felt, eh? Right place, wrong time. I knew Derek would give in, and then he did... so I was his. He was what I wanted in that moment. All I wanted to do was forget and be with someone who loved me. Unconditionally. And Derek was there.
After that, it all just got out of hand. Things moved way too fast, and now I know that I should never have told Derek yes. I wasn't any more ready for a relationship than he was. I wasn't over Sam. I'm still not over Sam, and I'm... not sure that being with him is what's best for me, but I love him, and he's just been so wonderful. Like a completely different person. Derek was... I just got with him because I didn't have the guts to tell him no. And I selfishly wanted to be with someone, I think. I couldn't just be alone. I'm not good on my own... but I know now just how really wrong that was.
You see, Derek was right. I used him. I didn't really mean to, but I did. I used him for sex and comfort and about a million other little things. I knew I couldn't reciprocate his feelings, but it felt good, and he helped keep my mind off Sam. And I thought I was getting better. I didn't really think it would go anywhere, but I thought Derek could help me get over Sam. Then, of course, Sam showed up on my doorstep, and I started thinking about him all over again. And suddenly I couldn't get distracted enough, so I tried to drown myself in Derek. That was wrong.
And I won't lie and say that half of the reason I did it wasn't revenge, because it flat out was. It was immensely satisfying. I could have sex with Derek, and then on top of that, every time I did, it was my own mini act of revenge. So I relished the feeling. Sam deserved it, after all. There was nothing more offensive to do than screw someone's best friend. And yeah, maybe I was waiting until something better came along. But Sam isn't better. Hell, I didn't even really choose Sam over Derek.
Derek chose for me. He burnt that bridge all on his own. I was just going along with what he said. Derek was so jealous he couldn't see straight. He didn't even ask me about it, not really. He didn't ask for details or what Sam exactly said to me. He didn't know that Sam's eyes had been filled with tears or that he'd put my favorite chocolates in my locker. He didn't know that Sam had literally begged me, almost on his knees. I stopped him out of remembrance of what else he'd done on his knees. Then Sam was giving me those huge puppy-dog eyes and pouting at me, and he was so pathetic and... whipped, even. Sam wouldn't have taken no for an answer.
The asshole jumped to conclusions. So he automatically assumed that I'd go back to Sam, and then I did. Half of it was just to spite Derek. To make good on those awful things he thought of me, to pay him back for his rude comments. To pay him back for what happened that day. I meant a lot of those other things I said about Derek. We did have an agreem... well, an arrangement of sorts. And it was a mistake... all that with him. I didn't mean it in the mean way it came out. I know how that sounds, but it was the honest truth.
But who am I kidding? Half the reason I said that was to hurt him. To make him finally leave me alone.
I don't know. I guess I wanted to make it easier for him.
And then he asked me for those conditions and damn near threatened me so I had no choice, really, but to have sex with him and pretend like it didn't bother me. The discomfort was like an itch underneath my skin. I could scratch my skin raw, but I could never reach it and relieve it. I wonder what he would've done if I'd said no. He could very well make my life hell if he wanted to. I wasn't willing to find out. I didn't want anyone to know, and I saw an out, so I took it.
Even if it was the shower, and that was just a tad bit too trashy for me. Hell, it beat break-up sex, right?
He wasn't gentle at all. Every sinew of his muscle was angry. Every flick of his tongue was sharp and rough. His grip was hard and fierce. His stare was unflinching and stubborn. He was firm and grounded like a tree. Oh, it was pleasurable, though, so memorable. I don't think I'll ever forget that, for sure. He had me screaming his name in ecstasy again and again. I cried out so many times that my voice was hoarse for days afterwards. My lips were bruised and broken from the intensity of his kiss and sore from where I'd nibbled on them. He'd left his mark everywhere, all over me, like he was playing target practice with his lips. It was one bruise after another, each in a place more uncomfortable and invasive than the other, and every single one hurt.
It was the most exquisite sort of pain. Maybe I deserved it. Then there was the way he thrust into me, harder and harder every time, in and out, again and again 'til I couldn't stand it anymore. I begged him to stop, said I'd had enough, but he pushed on and on and on until I thought I was going to die. But he wouldn't stop until he was through, until my muscles were clenching and spasming around him and all of me was begging for relief. And then he'd moan in satisfaction, growling my name in that sexy, throaty voice of his, and I practically collapsed at the sound, so spent. My skin was hot and slippery, just like his. My legs were weak and shaking, my knees knocking together. And I could scarcely stand, so I pressed my back against the cool tile and leaned against the wall for support with my hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer because I couldn't stand on my own.
I kept hoping he'd let up, even for a minute, but he waited the minimum amount of time, allowing the both of us to catch our breath, and soon enough it started up all over again. Waves of pain and pleasure alternated through me. My whole body hummed and tingled. I fought it as best as I could at first. I stayed still and frozen like a statue, so horribly unreactive that I thought it would repulse him. It did. I didn't move; I just gave in, giving him the bare minimum. I didn't want him to hurt me again, but the more still I was, the harder he pushed.
I felt violated. Derek sure wasn't pleased; he didn't look like he was even remotely enjoying himself. So he surprised me by stopping midway and leaning against my shoulder, his lips brushing my neck. I thought I was okay with the other stuff, but that, somehow, was too intimate. I wanted to pull away from him, to tear myself away and leave him there. He was too close. Strangely, he didn't even do anything. He just breathed me in, and then... then he whispered that he loved me, and he always would, no matter what he said. Then I broke, and I surrendered. Again and again we went at it ceaselessly, apparently never tiring, high on hormones or pheromones, even adrenaline like alcohol until we heard our siblings come in. I was bone dry then, and I felt raw and stretched out inside. And so sick and exhausted that it was all I could do to keep my head up and the food down in my stomach where it belonged.
But satisfied, I suppose.
As endings go, you could say it was a good one. Good enough. We sealed it with a pact to keep it a secret. Admittedly, I'm not sure about Derek... not even now. And sometimes Sam gives me these looks that make me wonder if he knows.
I still have most of the bruises from that afternoon. All up my neck and down my throat, peppering my sides, lining my collarbone from shoulder to shoulder, between the valley of my breasts, across my hips, one or two marring my upper thighs. So I slather the ones on my neck with cover-up or I wear turtlenecks, nothing that will reveal all the bruises. Almost my whole back is black and blue from where he slammed it against the wall. My lower back hurts even more from where he pressed it hard into the white porcelain of the sink. The skin's darker there. And then there are his handprints, the fierce impression of his fingers into my lily-white skin, standing out angrily, around my wrists, my upper arms, my waist, even speckling my thighs like leopard spots.
It hurts every day, reminding me of him- painfully, as I'm sure he intended. I think he wanted to make me feel a little of what I'm sure he must be feeling right now.
Not that you can tell.
A week and I can just barely walk straight. It hurts worse when I do, but I can't really limp around. Derek would notice, as would Sam, and I'm trying to play it stoic. I can't even imagine how smug he would be if he knew. If Sam knew, he would kill me. Or at least, Derek. It wouldn't work with that whole "I've never had sex with anyone" thing I have going. Besides, raises too many damn questions, and I can't risk Lizzie and Mom giving me another dirty look.
But I'm with Sam now, so I sound like a liar and a hypocrite and all that. I'm not, though. Derek pushed me into Sam's arms. I tried to apologize, but he wouldn't hear any of it. He refused to listen to me or talk to me or even look at me unless it was absolutely necessary. I realize I hurt him, but he's been like that all week. Someday I will need to talk to him again. Derek made me feel guilty, and that did nothing to help distract me from those idle, foolish thoughts I'd had of Sam. It made them worse, actually. When I'd wake up in the middle of the night, having nightmares in which Derek featured prominently, I'd take to thinking about those happy times I'd had before rather than the misery I was currently facing.
Since I could barely remember the times when I hadn't lived in London with the Venturis, I took to thinking about Sam. He wasn't the best boyfriend admittedly, but he was the best one I've had here... Thinking about Max gives me hives, and Derek... well, I can't exactly think about him. I was kind of happy, halfway, half-assed, with Derek. It was nice, but I can't think about any of that at length without feeling sick to my stomach, and after those guilt-ridden nightmares, the last thing I want to do is think about the past few weeks or go crawling back to Derek. That's the influence he has over me now: the mere thought of him makes my stomach churn.
So I kept thinking about those good moments with Sam, those little tidbits, stringing them together one after the other. In the end, they formed a sort of perfect picture, and I'd almost glossed over the many bad moments, piecing the memories together. By Friday, all those nights of sleepless daydreaming had caught up with me. As had, I'm afraid, my insomnia. I wasn't thinking too clearly then either, but Sam was a perfect gentleman, and the bells in my head didn't go off like they should've... and there was no Derek around to tell me to stop. So when Sam asked me to get back together with him, I said yes without even thinking. All I knew was that I still loved him, and now he loved me. I thought that was enough, that it could work out.
I regret just jumping back into it like that, so fast, so soon after I was through with Derek. I didn't mean for it to happen, really. Then again, I didn't mean to have sex with Derek either. It seems like an insult to Derek to move on so fast. Then again, he is Derek Venturi, after all. I wish I'd thought about it more, I guess. I'm not entirely certain that I should've gotten back with Sam. I don't know if I can completely forgive him ever again, and I can't exactly trust him like I used to. Or at all, really. He's just so nice now, like the guy he was when we first started dating. I like that. I like how it feels like old times...
Like how it was before my world turned upside-down again for the third time.
The first time was when Daddy died. And the second was when Mom married George and uprooted my entire life. For a marriage that wouldn't even work, I'd added cynically at the time.
And the third time... ANOTHER DAMN VENTURI MALE.
I don't really think I need to say anything more about that, although Sam's almost as much to blame.
I miss that world. I'd just gotten used to it. Every time I get used to something, my world turns upside-down. But even I know that I can't go back. Too much has changed, and I can't go back in time. I think even Derek would agree.
Oh, wait, he doesn't talk!
I know it's my fault, too. That's the worst part. Because I remember that look on his face when I told him he was a mistake. It's stuck in my mind. It haunts me. For that one moment, the careful facade of the Derek everyone knew was gone, and the naked hurt flickered across his face. And then, just like that, it was gone. He didn't even look that surprised. He looked resigned, like he'd known it all along. I think he did, too; he knew it was going to happen, but he hoped he could change my mind. Maybe.
But then Derek was suddenly himself again. There was a brief pause, and he was back, guns slinging, with a retort for every nasty comment of mine. But I remember that look, those brief flashes of humanity. And I know he was hurt by my hand. It doesn't make me feel good. Or proud, even, that I brought The Great Derek Venturi to his knees. Not really. Dimly, a part of me is aware of that and feels somehow justified... but I know that was wrong.
After all, I've never been indifferent to him. I hated him for so long and so hard and so much, and that hatred was so all-consuming that it's taken over my life so many times, more than I can count. It's made me a crazy person who needs to see a counselor every Thursday, and it's cost me more than one boyfriend. That kind of intense emotion, obsession even, was bound to turn into something else. Something more than just hatred. I suppose a part of me will always hate him, but now I just pity him and what he's become. What I've made him.
Ironic, isn't it, that I'm the one with that kind of power over him now?
That day, that Derek talked about? It was the wedding, and I was so upset. I'd only met George himself once or twice, and I'd known that he had kids. I thought he had one. I'd met Marti one time. He'd brought her over once, asked me to babysit. I liked her. She was cute if not a little strange, so imaginative I was almost jealous of her. I'd never been like that as a kid.
I found out about Edwin much later. George mentioned him in a passing conversation when he took us all out to dinner to propose to my mother. He mentioned that Marti was with his ex-wife, and his son was at the Science Fair. He added that he thought his son would get along with Lizzie since they were the same age. Lizzie looked excited. She'd always wanted a brother.
Ha. And now she wants her stepbrother. Ah, the irony in life.
George didn't mention Derek once in my presence. Now that I think about it, I think he did it on purpose. Mom definitely knew, but she never mentioned Derek to me, not even once. Mom probably knew how I'd react, and George knew I wouldn't be happy in his house where his son ruled the roost. Or maybe they thought I'd be attracted to him. I can't vouch for their reasons for keeping Derek a secret from me.
They were finally forced to tell me about him when they brought our two families together. They went away for a weekend together at Niagara Falls and came back married. Naturally, I was thrilled. I sent Mom five desperate emails pleading her to divorce him. When she came back, I berated her for not thinking of her family, for doing that without asking us, without even letting us be present at her wedding. I don't suppose I can blame her for that, because I most definitely would've objected. It was just so soon. They'd only even been dating for some six months. They'd been engaged for about two weeks at the time, give or take.
When they came back home, we were all faced with a rather interesting situation. Mom promptly put the condo up for sale and said that we were going to move to London. I was almost excited until I realized that she meant Ontario instead of England. To live with George because he had a house that was big enough for all of us, and his whole life was there. She'd already found a job in London and shortly filed her two weeks' notice to work.
They had gotten married in late May, so Lizzie and I got to finish out the school year before moving. Neither of us were too happy about that. I had to leave my lovely Fletcher academy for a public school. But she finally told me about Derek much later, on the night before their ceremony. Since they'd already gotten married, they were throwing a little celebration party sort of thing for the family. It was very exclusive. Only immediate family and our parents' closest friends were allowed to attend. Naturally I'd planned almost the entire thing, not that I wanted to. I just couldn't let Mom down. I was her maid of honor.
She told me about Derek late that night when we were sitting on the couch, discussing some last-minute wedding preparations, after we'd finished a movie marathon of the sappiest, most sickeningly romantic movies with all the guys we'd ever found attractive. It was a few minutes after midnight, and we were watching Gone with the Wind. It was early on in the movie, right when she first sees Rhett. I was watching it out of the corner of my eye, half-looking at Mom when she dropped the bomb. "Oh, Casey, that reminds me! I forgot to tell you. You're sitting next to George's other son at dinner, so you're going to have to set an extra place at the table," My mother interjected suddenly, as if she'd just remembered. I have no idea what about that movie could have possibly reminded her of Derek Venturi.
Except, maybe, Clark Gable smirking at the camera. Naturally I turned to gape at my mother in disbelief, no longer paying any attention to the movie. "What other son? You mean he has another son, other than Edwin?" The questions bubbled out of me, one after the other. My mother merely nodded, and I continued to stare open-mouthed. "How long have you known? How long have you been keeping this from me?" I asked, my voice bordering on hysteria.
My mother shook her head and said that she'd merely forgotten to tell me. She kept forgetting that I didn't know. I pointed out irritably that she hadn't mentioned him even once, and then Mom claimed that she'd only met Derek a couple weeks ago when George told his kids that he was marrying her. He'd been busy or whatever with hockey and girls, which is why she hadn't met him. I was livid and didn't buy that excuse for a minute, but she cut me off before I could say a word.
She was smiling at me sweetly, softly. "He's about your age, Casey, and very charming. His name's Derek, by the way. He's so charismatic, confident, and friendly that it's impossible to dislike him once you've met him... He's the life of the party, really. Oh, and he tells the funniest jokes! You know, he actually reminded me a lot of you. You two have a lot in common. He's a good kid. I think you'll like him, honey... as much as I do, I hope. I bet that once you get over the shock and give him a chance, you two will get along famously. You might even be good friends," Mom gushed, full of Derek's praises. I knew right then that I wouldn't. I could sense it. If she had so many good things to say about him, then I would definitely find something wrong with him.
It sounded so much like an attempt to prop Derek up that I suspected he had serious flaws she was forgetting to tell me about and that there would definitely be more than a little friction between us. I suppose it might've been different if I'd made a positive first impression on Derek. He might've actually liked me and vice-versa, and we might actually get along like brother and sister now... key word being might, and what's the use dwelling on the past, on what could've been? It obviously can't be reversed or undone. It's only the now that matters. Or maybe we were destined to disagree.
What kills me is my mother saying that two obviously dissimilar people with so many differences were alike, and, worse still, that Derek reminded her of me. How? She'd based all that on what, a few hours she'd spent with him on his own turf? It sounded to me like she was glossing him over, clearly trying too hard to make me like him. Don't get me wrong; I value my mother's opinion greatly, but it's in human nature to do the opposite of what someone tells you to do. My mom had issue me a challenge, and, as usual, I rose to meet it with ease. Disliking him was far from impossible, as my mother had said. It came as natural and instinctive as breathing to me.
When she told me all that, I felt sick. Derek, I thought. Derek. I hated that name. And I attached the blame to his name because I loved my mom, and I liked George... and I couldn't be mad at them. I couldn't blame them for everything, no matter how desperately I wanted to. I had to like George because he made Mom happy, and he was a good guy. But I didn't have to like my ugly stepbrother, of that I was certain, so the blame fell solely on his shoulders. That's a lot of weight to put on a high-schooler.
With his name on my lips, I glared at my mother and ran upstairs to the familiar safety of my room. I left her with some sarcastic comment and told her to finish the movie by herself because I could care less. That movie has forever been tainted for me because it never fails to remind me of Derek, and I can never watch it all the way through because it irritates me so. I tried and failed to fall asleep, so I went to the bathroom and threw up until the sick feeling went away, and there was no junk food left in my stomach to vomit up. I felt so terrible that all I could do was peel myself off the cool tile floor, clean up a bit, flush the toilet, gargle, and haul my weary ass to bed for a few hours. I went to bed still angry at her and George.
Nevertheless, I tried to forget about him and told myself to do as my mother had said and give him a chance. By seven that morning, I was determined to make myself like him, to make him like me. It would be nice to go to his strange new school with a friend to show me around and help me out.
Then, of course, I actually met Derek. Everything changed then. My whole life changed then, and it's all his miserable fault.
I was in this side room at the church where they were holding the ceremony since I'd insisted on a proper wedding for my mother, and I was getting out some wedding rage. It was only natural to be frustrated. So I was screaming and on the couch thrashing wildly, attacking throw pillows and burying my face in said couch when Derek came in. I'm sure he saw halfway up my skirt then, with the way he was smirking like he knew exactly what I looked like underneath that reddish-pink dress. "I have to say... that outfit would look great in a crumpled heap next to my bed," He said smoothly, forcing me to look up at him. I smoothed my dress nervously. He might as well have said, "Hi, I'm a tawdry slut looking for a good time."
Derek was wearing a black suit with a sky blue shirt underneath. The top two buttons were undone, and his hair was gelled up. In short, he looked good. I'm not too big to admit that I was somewhat attracted to him. I made a face at him, not appreciating his rather vulgar sexual innuendos. Besides, we were in a church. Didn't he have any class? He frowned as if he remembered something, popping his collar. I rolled my eyes, trying not to think about how good he looked. "Screw me if I'm wrong, but haven't we met before?" He quipped slowly, eying me curiously. He was blatantly checking me out, and I didn't like the feeling of his eyes running all over me unchecked. I shook my head defiantly and rose from the couch, adjusting my dress, feeling somewhat flustered.
He shrugged coolly, moving closer to me. I backed up further and further, trying to get away from him. "I don't know you, and you don't know me, but who's to say it's wrong if we sleep together?" Derek replied smoothly. Other than me, you mean? I am not that kind of girl. My jaw dropped, leaving my mouth wide open. Derek grinned a little, moving still closer. "You know, that's my favorite facial expression. You should really keep it up," He commented brightly, leaning towards me conspiratorially. My eyes widened in disbelief. No one had ever propositioned me like that.
But I quickly sobered up, shaking my head no. Derek nodded dimly, pursing his lips. "That's right... You don't know me, and I don't know you. And of course you're not the type to screw a stranger. I guess I've got to remedy that," He remarked in a lower voice, practically to himself. He moved closer and my back hit the wall, falling into the niche between the bookcase and the fireplace. Then Derek smirked at me for the very first time, quite pleased with himself.. That smug grin made my blood boil, but what he said next was even worse. "The name's Derek... That's so you know what to scream," He murmured, leaning forward. I could feel his breath on my face, and it repulsed me.
However, when I heard his name, it made the repulsion grow even stronger, forming into a knot in my stomach. My stepbrother was hitting on me! Since I couldn't very well escape, I reached up above my head for the vase that had been sitting there and threw the crockery at Derek's head. He simultaneously took a step back and ducked. The vase brushed his hair, grazing the side of his head before it crashed into the ground. He stared at me, looking somewhat impressed, surprise written all over his face. "You're my stepbrother, imbecile!"
That's how it all started.
I suppose I should say how Derek is now because, of course, everyone's all so fixated upon him. Everyone's been watching him lately. The fight with Sam, then his quietness as of late, and the concussion. Everyone's been dropping over, practically dripping with concern, giving him homemade cookies and cakes and casseroles and potroasts, even balloons and flowers and all manner of stuffed animals... enough to make you think the boy was an invalid! Of course, Derek's never home, so these things just clutter up the house. He does gobble down the food, though. Mom leaves most of it in his room unless it has to be refrigerated.
He's starving when he comes back from the rink, so he'll attack just about anything. I've never seen him so hungry, not even after we would have s... Not even then. That's all he does nowadays: go to the rink for hours and practice, do some of his homework, eat, and sleep.
Sam and Derek are speaking again, by the way. Derek made some excuse about being protective of his sister, and Sam bought it. Sam finally walked up to Derek today and asked him what was wrong. "Girlfriend dumped you?" He'd quipped in that way that he only thinks is witty. Sam's not funny at all. I was walking down the hallway at the time, and I went all cold and still, watching the scene, terribly afraid he was going to tell Sam everything.
Anger radiated from his whole body, but Sam didn't seem to notice. I stopped dead in the hallway, and Derek caught my eye for a minute. He sensed the fear coming off of me and seemed to relish it for a moment before breaking my gaze and turning abruptly to Sam. For a moment I felt panicked and was barely able to keep myself from rushing at him and making him stop. But then Derek spoke, and all my fears were assuaged... for the moment. "No," He replied. "I dumped her," He said savagely, and then he turned around coolly and headed off to class as if nothing had happened. Didn't even manage a passing glare.
I was relieved but not unscathed. Derek could destroy me at will, but he was keeping his promise. It hurt a bit, to hear him say it like that. No matter how true it was.
I need to stop thinking, though. I have a date with Sam tonight. It's our one week anniversary, and I can't be having those kinds of thoughts. After all, I love Sam, I do. Besides, I need to get ready, and I can't afford to be thinking of D... That. Any of it. I washed the last of the shampoo out of my hair and stepped out of the shower. Sam was coming in an hour, and he hadn't been late for any dates so far. I hurried to dry off, dressing quickly and combing and blow-drying my hair, which I then curled into ringlets. I applied my make-up with precision and efficiency, and, moments later, I breezed out the door. Sam's going to be here any minute!
Yes, I opened the door and ran right into Derek. It hurt and knocked a lot of the wind out of me. Didn't make my bruises feel too great either. I rubbed my chest, frowning at him. He really had been working out a lot lately. "Watch it, Casey," Derek said in a monotone. He couldn't even manage a Klutzilla? I found myself annoyingly concerned with his strange behavior.
I scowled at him. "Why aren't you at the rink? Shouldn't you be practicing some more for the hockey you won't be playing for weeks?" I muttered irritably. Derek's face and eyes darkened. He looked murderous, but I didn't care. He stiffened a little bit but did not move. In fact, he blocked me from passing him!
My eyes narrowed. Just what game was he playing? What was Derek up to? Was he trying to corner me again? My frown deepened and Derek explained in a low baritone that was hoarse from disuse. "Coach set me up with a coaching gig teaching the little snappers how to play. I already did my four hours at the rink. The only reason I'm back here is because I need to shower first. Wouldn't want to scare the little barnacles away," He elucidated quite clearly in a ridiculously dull voice. He managed to look convincingly bored, but I knew better.
I rolled my eyes at him. "Oh, but Derek, I thought the ladies loved your natural musk," I retorted sarcastically. "It'd be the first time you actually bothered to shower in a while." Derek's eyes flashed warningly. He bit down on his lip as if trying to suppress sarcastic comments. I knew exactly what he would've said too. He would've said that his natural musk sure didn't bother me and then make some quip about how the last time he took a shower was, well... you know. Or something about it. But we had a strict gag order, so Derek swallowed the words. His eyes took on a cast of bitterness and, for a moment, he stared at me in silence until he'd composed himself long enough to speak and not worry that he'd say something inappropriate.
"Okay, you caught me," Derek confessed dryly, raising up his hands in a surrendering gesture. I graced him with the barest hints of a smile. "I came home just for you, Princess Casey. Since I am but your humble servant, fair maiden, I came to ready you for your joust with Sir Sam. In my opinion, you are far too made up for someone so unworthy, but never mind that. How mayst I aide thee, my fair lady?" Derek proclaimed dramatically, mocking me. Some Ivanhoe he is... I'm sure Derek would have some choice remarks about that one. Psh, he wouldn't know chivalry if it paraded around him naked. I scrunched up my nose and scowled at him. Derek rolled his eyes this time. "I would most certainly never miss the Ice Queen leaving on a rendezvous with one of her equals," Derek deadpanned. He paused in contemplation. "Although, if he's your equal, then what does that say about you?"
I stiffened, surprised at the sudden turn of events. I moved to brush past Derek, but apparently he wasn't done. This part of his break-up complex hadn't yet manifested. "Does it say that you also give strange boys head in bathrooms during parties?" Derek asked, dead serious. My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe he had the audacity to say that. Besides, that's just... insanitary! And I haven't even kissed Sam! Where does he get off suggesting that I'm a slut?!
Other than, of course, the obvious... coupled with his vision of how we broke up, since he thinks I left him for Sam.
But I'm no slut!
After all, I've only slept with him. Even if I lied, and he thinks differently...
"I am not a slut, and I do not enjoy that... Nor do I do that, not that that's any of your business anymore. My relationship with Sam is none of your business anyways, so I'd prefer it if you'd just stay out!" I shrieked defensively. Derek grinned mirthlessly. I knew even as I said it that there was a fat chance of that happening, but I said it anyways.
Derek shook his head wryly. "Obviously I'm gonna have to disagree with you on that," He quipped amusedly. He frowned mockingly, and he seemed suddenly like the Derek I knew. "I guess that's just another thing you never gave me, isn't it?" He retorted with a heavy sigh. I glowered at him, reaching my hands up towards his neck. I wanted to strangle him all over again until he actually turned blue, but my hands never made contact. He shrugged coolly, frowning and pursing his lips. "And, Casey, you are what you sleep with. I'm a whore, and Sam's a cheap, trashy, tasteless whore. That makes you a whore too, don't you see?" Derek pointed out cruelly. I couldn't just take it anymore, not without violence... even if he was injured.
I slapped him across the face. I was not a whore. He had no right to call me that when I gave him my virginity. And I hadn't even slept with Sam! Or kissed him since! So in my anger, I said something very stupid. "You're just saying that because it eats at you, picturing me having sex with him, his kisses on my lips, his hands removing my clothes, his skin on mine, him sliding inside me, his name being the one I scream instead of yours! You're sick with jealousy, Derek, and you know that Sam will give me more pleasure than you ever did. So suck on that, Derek!" I countered even more icily.
I had no intentions of even sleeping with Sam... And I wasn't sure I could ever get over or forget what he did to me. The mere thought of having sex with Sam seemed unsafe, unsavory, unsanitary, and absolutely disgusting. Nevertheless, I knew that was exactly what Derek was picturing, and I knew that bringing it up would hurt him.
"God, could you possibly be any more self-centered?!" Derek rejoined sourly. He shook his head in disgusted disbelief. He was one to talk, accusing me of being self-centered! Besides, I was right. Derek was jealous and his denial only reinforced it. We stopped things because he was jealous and he didn't trust me. "This whole thing isn't about you, Casey, and now you're just being delusional," Derek continued irritably. I grinned smugly. He was just pissed because I was right, and we both knew it.
I rolled my eyes at him proudly. "Ha, funny... But you're going to have to do a lot better to convince me. Even you're not that good of a liar, Derek," I exclaimed, narrowing my eyes. I finally brushed past him and sucked in a breath. It was the first time we'd touched since... I damn near jumped away from him as if burned, and Derek merely stood there in silence, looking thoughtful. I snickered again, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "God, Derek, could you be any more obvious?" I drawled mockingly, quickly pulling away so I managed to avoid Derek's iron grip. Murder was etched into his features, but I was already down the stairs and skipping into Sam's arms by the time Derek made it to the foot of the stairs.
Sam tried to kiss me on the mouth, but I turned my head at the last second to look up at Derek. He looked disgusted yet again and was turning around, walking back down the hall when I looked. Sam, however, pulled back and saw my stepbrother retreating. Like a fool, he called out for Derek excitedly. Derek turned around slowly, erasing the scowl from his face into a blank expression. He walked down the stairs silently and unwillingly, but Sam didn't notice. "Hey, D-man, any plans for V-Day?" Sam asked exuberantly. I rolled my eyes.
Silly boy. Derek was silent for a moment, so I took it upon myself to reply. I turned to Sam, clutching his arm. I didn't want to prolong things. "Yes, he does. He plans to live up to V.D. Day by attempting to contract every S.T.D. available through frequent exposure to his whorish girlfriends," I answered spitefully. Derek shot me a look that reminded me full well that over a week ago, I'd been a girlfriend. I tried to overlook that fact.
Sam frowned at me gently, placing his hand on my arm. He cast a glance over at Derek, who looked apathetic. Logically that must've surprised him, since Derek would normally retort back with something even nastier... but now it just looked like Derek didn't care, period. None of that oh-so fashionable aloofness anymore. For a moment, Sam looked confused. Then he turned back to me, still frowning. "Casey... That wasn't very nice." I shot him a reproachful look.
After all, I'd taken his ass back, hadn't I? So he was really one to talk to me about nice, what with cheating on me and punching his best friend. The look pretty much silenced Sam. "Oh, I'm sorry... Oh, wait, Sam, I forgot something... when was Derek ever nice to me?" I replied sarcastically. I crossed my arms over my chest irately. Derek was unintentionally ruining my date, and I knew he HAD to be enjoying it!
Sam's frown remained, however, and he nervously cleared his throat. I eyed him warily, ready to cut him off. "Casey... You've never..." Sam trailed off, not knowing what to say next. I never... what, Sam? Never stood up to Derek. Never insulted him like he got me? Never controlled him for once?
More like never sunk down to his level...
He swallowed. But you know it's not the first time. I stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to come out and say it. "You've never said anything like that before... I-I think you crossed a line," Sam stammered. What next? Is he going to ask me to apologize? Maybe I did, but so did Derek. All of this is just one giant reaction to him! My whole damn life practically! He peered at Derek worriedly. "Maybe you should apologize," He suggested in a helpful tone.
I plastered on a fake smile and tried to restrain myself. "Sam, if you only knew everything Derek has said and done to me..." I muttered almost to myself. Derek paled a bit, and Sam continued to look curious. My eyes narrowed and I turned to Sam, posing as the picture of feminine devotion. But that was just an act. After all, all the strong women of history batted their eyelashes and sweet-talked the men to get where they were. If I want to be like them, I have to hide my intentions behind a facade of sugar. Having power over someone outside of my immediate family, especially a boy, was an entirely new thing for me. I wasn't going to let myself be controlled by one boy's actions. Not again.
I'd made that mistake time and time again... making myself over into some stranger I scarcely recognized and didn't respect to make myself good enough, pretty enough, popular enough for Max. But I was never going to be Amy. Not even if I became a cheerleader and caked all that make-up on my face and got highlights and wore revealing clothes and gushed over him like some sap and pretended to be interested in football and forgot all about everything I loved. And I made excuses for Sam when he treated me like crap, and I overlooked his flaws and kept lying to myself when he was obviously cheating on me. I stubbornly refused to put the pieces together. And Derek, well, that's the worst of them all.
I obsessed over him. Literal possessive obsession. And I don't even love him. Most of the time I loathe him! And I basically let him run my life. He riled me up all the time and made me lose my cool... sometimes even my mind. And when... I was like his little sex bunny or whatever, making him meals out of gratitude, and thanking him all the time. And pretending, always pretending. No more. Casey's completely in charge now.
I batted my eyelashes sweetly. "What, you want me to apologize to him?" I questioned innocently, giving him the impression that I wouldn't mind. Sam nodded, and I pivoted to face Derek gracefully. "Derek, I am truly sorry for what I said. I'd forgotten that you already have every S.T.D. known to man. How careless of me," I drawled mockingly. I didn't bother to look at Sam's face. Derek, however, merely rolled his eyes. I turned my head to Sam, knowing full well that Derek could hear me. "It's a wonder they still want to touch him," I added, proceeding quickly as I knew Derek had a retort for that. "Although... He is having a bit of a dry streak lately..."
Derek scoffed softly. It was true, though. I haven't seen him with a girl in weeks. And no one else has either. Some people even think he made up the girlfriend... or they would've, if Derek hadn't been so taciturn and quasi-mopey lately. And horribly, horribly, horribly apathetic. Sam gave me a look, chastising me. He looked like he was seriously I didn't care, and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I'd said many more offensive things to Derek lately, ones a hell of a lot worse than that. "Casey, c'mon... Would it kill you to be civil to him for two minutes? He broke up with his girlfriend recently... And it is Valentine's Day, after all. It must be awful not to have someone to love. He's not as lucky as we are. Cut him a little slack," Sam entreated empathetically, grabbing my hand. I smiled against my will. His hand was nice and warm and not the one he'd stuck up Trashy Cassy's skirt. Still grinning, I pressed a kiss to the soft skin of the back of his hand.
He failed to point out that Derek had scarcely said a word.
At that, Derek's eyes flashed in rage. The concept of Sam pitying him had apparently hurt his pride. Well, it was either that or the irony in Sam's words, since he was the cause of Derek's misery. He seemed to bristle at Sam's assumption that he was fragile or wounded. Anyway, Derek's whole slumped body seemed to straighten and tighten like a guitar string as he stretched and rose to his full height. You could definitely tell he'd been working out. I feigned looking chagrined and a bit embarrassed. I shrugged helplessly, but I could tell that Derek didn't buy one word of it.
He addressed Sam plainly, "Sammy, I need to have a little chat with your girlfriend. Mind if I borrow her for a few seconds? We really need to get some things straight." His tone was urgent and demanding, a command that was to be obeyed. If Sam really knew, he wouldn't loan me out... Sam nodded, lightly pushing me towards Derek. I wanted to glower at him, but I didn't because he was my boyfriend and I loved him. He looked somewhat puzzled. Of course, Derek couldn't have it out with me in front of Sam. He stared at Sam, hoping Sam would get the message, and finally had to clarify, "Alone." Sam nodded understandingly and said he'd wait outside.
If it had been a little earlier, I might've been scared of Derek, but as of now, I was only frightened of his clearly superior physical prowess. However, he was still recovering from his concussion, so I knew I had that advantage. Anyway, as soon as the door closed, Derek advanced towards me. He didn't pin me against it like I thought he would. He kept his distance; there was approximately a foot in between us. His eyes glinted furiously. "You can make all the dumb little snide comments about how much of a whore I am that you want. I don't care, and they suck anyways. It's not like it hurts. I would not, however, recommend taunting me or forcing me to witness you and Sammy displaying affection," Derek grumbled irritably. He sounded so unaffected that I was surprised.
Or what? What are you going to do to me, Derek? Blackmail me? Well, bring it on. I can blackmail you right back, and worse, because who will they believe: the liar or goody-two-shoes Casey? Mom and George might even ship him off to military school once and for all. I rolled my eyes. "I can do whatever I want with whoever I want whenever I want. Sound familiar, Derek?" I quipped with a grin. Derek scowled, remembering that he'd said that once. It was his justification for sleeping with everything female. "And I'm not going to let you blackmail me or control me. My relationship with Sam is not your business. Period, end of story," I declared almost exasperatedly.
"It is, and it always has been! When he's my "friend" and you're my stepsister... it is! Like it or not, Casey, I'm in the middle of your relationship for good," Derek growled roughly, taking another menacing step towards me. He had a point there. He would always be standing between Sam and me, even if I didn't want to think about it. It sounded so horribly fixed and fatalistic. But still, he's not me.
I shook my head stubbornly, refusing to accept his "truth". "No." Derek shook his head right back at me, and that made me very angry. I just wanted him to leave me alone. Why can't any of my exes leave me alone?! My eyes narrowed in irritation. "Just shut up, Derek," I snapped. He started to talk again, but I cut him off, feeling more than a bit furious. "I don't know what I ever saw in you. You're nothing more than a stupid, worthless puckhead!" I snarled viciously. One who's ruining my date with Sam, at that! For once, Derek actually looked affected by that remark, maybe even a little hurt.
But it was just a moment and then he was as angry as I was. His lips formed a firm line for a long moment, turning white from the pressure. Then Derek finally replied, breaking the strange spell that had taken ahold of him. "Better that than a lying, heartless bitch who uses people!" Derek shot back. His voice was just a little too loud. The words stung a bit because a part of me knew he was right, and I felt guilty. He deserved it, but I felt guilty. And I didn't want to feel guilty over Derek because that led to me thinking other things of Derek. I didn't even want to think about Derek.
So this time I took a step closer, so that I could practically whisper in his ear. "You make my skin crawl," I spat disgustedly, giving him a dismissive glance. Then I turned around and walked away, beginning to open the door. That is, I was... until Derek grabbed my arm hard and whirled me around to face him abruptly.
His face was red. His eyes were dark and hard. His lips curled into an unpleasant, unbecoming smirk. "And you make mine itch," He hissed, so close that I felt his breath hot on my face. I squirmed in his grip, but he wouldn't let go just yet. Well, what the hell did that mean? On second thought, maybe I don't want to know. Derek brought his face even closer to mine, making me feel uncomfortable. "Have fun with Sam, Slutzilla. I'm sure you can show him a good time," Derek sneered. His eyes glittered maliciously. "Especially if you suck." My jaw dropped. I can't believe him. Derek smirked. "Yes, that's just right, Casey! That is the exact expression. Sammy will love his present, I'm sure," Derek continued meanly, making me close my mouth in embarrassment.
My cheeks were probably as red as his by that point. But that, of course, was not enough for Derek. "Careful, though," Derek taunted, "You might want to keep an eye on him so he doesn't run off to some other man when you're not enough for him." I bristled at the accusation, hating that it was full well possible. He'd hit a sore spot. Who says I'm not enough, though. Oh, but Sam wouldn't run off to some man under me this time. I refuse to put up with that, and I will ferret it out of him if he does and dump him flat. "Or maybe, I guess, your tongue... Just to keep him satisfied and all," Derek suggested virulently. My eyes widened again. What Derek said next hurt worst of all. "Unless, of course, you're gonna give it up just as easily to him as you did to me."
Next thing I knew, I was slapping him as hard as I could across the face. That had been uncalled for. "I'm not just going to sit here and let you devalue me anymore, Derek!" I asserted stubbornly. "I am worth more than that, and I am so far out of your league that you don't even stand a chance in your dreams. Being with you was a mistake, and I regret it. Sam will always mean more to me than you ever did, so you might as well just give up now," I finished nastily, shaking him off and shoving him away from me. The look on Derek's face spoke of devastation, and I suddenly felt like Kali. It was a powerful feeling, at least. He looked crushed.
I pushed open the door, turning my back on him. I smiled at Sam, lacing his fingers in mine warmly. Derek slammed the door behind me, dashing up the stairs, I'm sure. Sam asked me about it, but I merely smiled obliquely and gave him some dumb answer. He accepted it without doubt. We got in the car.
Suddenly it all kind of hit me, what I just did, how absolutely brutal I was, and I didn't feel much like going out. The date was already ruined, and my belief in love was practically eroding before my eyes. I couldn't have a good time with Sam now. But I was going to try my damnedest to do it, so I put a smile on my face and made light conversation, although my mind was elsewhere.
I was still fuming from the awful things he'd said, and I silently cursed Derek for ruining yet another thing for me. He always does that and now...
Derek had soured the whole taste of Valentine's Day for me. Maybe forever.
- Loren ;)
Reviews are appreciated, dears, but long reviews are triply appreciated. ;) Hopefully after all that chapter you'll have something to say, even if it's that it is awful. And it is. The last half. I like the thoughts bit... But eh, the Derek confrontation was a tad contrived... Anyways, tell me what you think. Thanks so much!