Disclaimer: I don't own Life with Derek.

Chapter 3: The Prank War

Casey invited Sarah and Joel over for dinner. They're coming in an hour. She's got something up her sleeve, I know it. But what?

I really screwed up yesterday. I don't know how she managed to get me so good, but she did. You should have seen that "I Kissed a Gael" shirt she had on. Cutest thing I've ever seen. It took all of my willpower to ignore it. And she was acting so sweet and innocent, making me lunch and all. She certainly fooled the guys at the back of the bus, who didn't let me hear the end of it. Stupid Casey.

When I was on the ice, she blew me a kiss. Blew. Me. A. Kiss.

I almost broke my neck, I was so surprised. She's trying so hard to "beat" me, so of course I have to keep up. But if she keeps pulling dirty tricks like that one, I'm a goner.

I have to be on my guard tonight at dinner. Somehow, I've got to restore the power balance. I. Will. Not. Lose.

()()()

Halfway through dinner, there was a knock at the door. I froze. Casey hopped up to answer it, and to my utter astonishment, a deliveryman was standing there with a big bouquet of roses.

Casey gasped. "They're beautiful," she gushed.

I rolled my eyes. She sent herself flowers? Lame, lame trick.

But see, I forgot that we had company…that's what made it brilliant. (Yes, I'm calling her brilliant.)

Of course, Sarah and Joel wanted to see what all the fuss was about, so the three of us got up and went over to the door.

"Oh, Casey, roses," Sarah squealed. She ran her finger along one of the petals, swooning. It was disgusting.

"There's a note," Casey said. I panicked for a second, thinking they were from a guy. Was she "cheating" on me?

I relaxed when she read it and sighed deeply. "They're wonderful, Derek, thank you."

My eyes widened. She is evil. Joel was looking at me, probably wondering why I was acting so uncomfortable. "You're welcome," I croaked out.

Casey and Sarah were busy gushing over the card. "Look," Casey said, and Sarah read it.

I pasted on a smile. What could she have possibly written on it?

Sarah held out the card to Joel. Please don't read it, I wished silently. That's all I needed: one more thing for the guys to tease me about. They all think I'm whipped beyond belief.

(Okay, so I am. But I'd rather they didn't know that.)

Joel wisely refused. "I don't have to read it," he said. I shot him a grateful look, and Joel smiled.

I quickly grabbed the card from Sarah and threw it on the counter. "You're so romantic, Derek, to do this for Casey," Sarah told me, eyes shining.

I nodded carefully. What could I possibly say to that? "Why yes, I am"? Even though she sent them to herself to try to beat me at a game neither of us wants to play?

I decided to just keep my mouth shut. I didn't want to say something I'd regret.

Meanwhile, Casey was agreeing with Sarah, "I know. Gosh, I can't believe it." The girls went into the kitchen, I guess to put the roses in a vase or something.

"They're, uh, pretty," Joel said awkwardly.

I shrugged. "She loves roses. I think they're a little cliché." What she did was cliché. And stupid. Monumentally stupid. (Yet brilliant.) I hate her.

"Nah, they're classic," Joel insisted.

"Eh, I guess," I replied, and before I knew what was happening, Casey had her arms around my waist. I flinched instinctually, but finally settled into her hug.

It's so sad, but I live for these moments. This "dating" thing does have some benefits: it makes Casey touch me a whole lot more than she already did. I don't mind this part of her trying to one-up me.

But of course it couldn't last. "That was so sweet," she stage-whispered into my ear, probably making sure Joel and Sarah heard. My breath hitched and I shivered. I hate what she does to me. Forget everything I said about the benefits. This whole situation is a major pain.

"Let's finish our dinner," she said, finally letting go of me.

I let out a deep breath. I could think a little more clearly now that she wasn't pressed up against me. "Yeah, he wasn't supposed to deliver them till later," I explained.

We finished our dinner, and when Sarah and Joel left, I dropped the dutiful boyfriend act.

As the door shut behind them, I turned to Casey and folded my arms, trying to look threatening.

"What?" she asked innocently. I glared. She thinks I can't see right through that fake calm? She's nervous, I can tell.

We stared at each other for a few moments. I guess she couldn't take it anymore, because she finally threw up her hands and started clearing the dinner dishes.

I was itching to read that note, but I couldn't appear too eager.

So I counted to ten. Then, I went over to the counter and picked up the note. I glanced at Casey, who was standing at the sink, doing the dishes. I knew she was waiting for the second payoff of her little prank (humiliating me even further), and I couldn't give her the satisfaction of seeming interested.

The note read: "My love for you will endure even after these roses wilt. Yours forever, D."

It was so perfectly Casey to do that. She had copied my handwriting pretty darn well, but she knew I would never, ever write a note like that. Thank God Joel hadn't read it.

I have a feeling she won this round. Again. I can't be so passive anymore.

I don't know if it was stress, or anger, or frustration, or all of it, but I started laughing. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. I went to my room and slammed the door, and collapsed on my bed, laughing my head off. I felt like an evil genius concocting a scheme. Even though she's the evil one, and the genius. But I, I am the Master of pranking.

She's gonna get it. Big time. We're talking a no-holds-barred Derek smackdown. (Figurative smackdown, of course, though I would prefer a literal one.)

She wants to play dirty? Well, dirty's what she's gonna get.

()()()

I spent all of Monday on the offensive. For the most part, I was maintaining a solid lead. (She knocked me down a few pegs with that "see-through shirt" comment. My stomach twisted into aggravating little knots and I spent the morning trying not to picture that. And trying not to picture every guy on campus seeing it.)

Tuesday morning, I stole her books out of her bag and put them into my own. She could have fun explaining to her professors why she wasn't prepared for class.

A couple of hours later, I realized I might have gone too far. I had taken her notebooks, too. She might have had something due, and I didn't want her grades to suffer. I just wanted to mess with her a little. (I know how seriously she takes her schoolwork, and I might make fun of her for it, but believe it or not, I do understand how important it is.)

This time I knew for sure that what I was feeling was guilt. I felt like I was going to be sick all day. I texted her during every class, but she didn't answer any of them.

I was in for it. She was going to kill me. Please bury my remains, if there are any, back in London, okay?

We ran into each other in the quad after lunch. She attacked me with her empty backpack. And she was crying. I felt awful. Mark and Ricky stood there and watched as she hit me.

I managed to get my arms up to protect my face, and eventually she stopped flailing around enough for me to grab her upper arms and pull her into me. She pounded her fists into my chest in an attempt to fight me off. Every blow hurt much more than it should have. Why don't I think before I do things? I hate seeing her this upset, especially if I'm the cause.

Finally, her sobbing turned into whimpering. She was pressed into me so tightly I couldn't breathe. I'm not going to tell you it didn't feel good, but this hug wasn't nearly as enjoyable as the others.

I looked up at Mark and Ricky, who were still staring at Casey the Crazy Woman. I told them we were going for a walk.

I put my arm around Casey and led her away from them, keeping my eyes on the ground. She finally straightened up and grabbed me by the chin, turning my head so that we were face-to-face. I was almost afraid to look her in the eyes.

"How could you? I had a test today, and my notes were in my bag."

Damn it. I may have made her fail the test. Not because she didn't know the material, which I'm sure she did, but she was probably so stressed out and distracted by her missing books that she couldn't concentrate. I am a horrible fake boyfriend.

"I-I didn't know," I said as I pulled away from her iron grip. I told you, I can't think straight when she's touching me like that!

"You do know how I am, though, Derek. How could you mess with my school stuff? That's not okay." She sounded lost, like she couldn't believe I'd do something so cruel. And she's completely right. She has every reason to hate me.

I kinda hate myself right now, too.

I had to do it. I had to say words that I despise saying, and rarely ever mean. But I mean them today. I don't want to hurt Casey. Tease her, prank her, and annoy her, sure. But make her cry? Never.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I realized after I did it that it was stupid; you could have had an essay due, or something. I've been trying to find you all day. Didn't you get my texts?"

She shook her head. "Where are they?" she asked weakly.

I shrugged out of my backpack and got out her books. She put them back in her own bag, still looking utterly crushed. I had to find some way to make her like me (or at least tolerate me) again.

"Let's make a deal, okay?"

"What kind of deal?" she asked suspiciously.

I decided to go for broke. Admitting this would fix things between us. We could go back to this uneasy fake relationship we have going. "No messing with each other's stuff when it's really important. I've learned my lesson: I've felt so guilty all day. And you know I don't do guilt."

Finally, there was that beautiful smile again. I love that smile. But then she turned it into a smirk. My smirk. "Just so we're clear, does whether or not I have access to my bras count as 'really important'?"

Ooh, that was low. Yesterday's bra prank started out so nicely, and then she had to go and ruin it by telling me about her see-through shirt.

I didn't trust myself to speak, so I shrugged. But I know she saw my face light up with relief, because hers did the same.

We're back on even footing again. It's all gonna be okay. I'll go along with being her fake boyfriend forever if she keeps looking at me like that.

She started talking again, snapping me out of the beginnings of a dangerous daydream. "It's a deal. In fact, can we call a truce? I'm exhausted."

Me too, Case. Me, too. "Fine. Truce." I'd give her whatever she wanted after what I did today.

"So who exactly saw my little, um, outburst?" she asked apprehensively.

As per the status quo, I had to reply with a joke. "The entire student body," I answered, gesturing to the crowded quad.

I knew we were definitely back to normal when she shoved me. "Come on. I hope not. Who was with you?"

"Mark and Ricky." I had almost forgotten that there were witnesses. Shit. What do I tell them?

"Nooo," she groaned, putting her head in her hands.

I patted her back. "Unfortunately, yes. Don't worry. I'll figure out something to tell them." I'm sure they'll buy that I accidentally angered poor angelic Casey. (I can hear the whip-cracking sound already.)

"Please do." She turned to go, but I caught her by the arm.

I had to make sure that we were okay. "Really, Case, I am sorry," I said.

She gave me a long look. Somehow, I realized that maybe we both knew I was talking about the big "prank" as well as about today's little mishap.

"I know you are. Thanks." She smiled at me, and I before I knew what I was doing I had wrapped her in a tight hug. I love you so much, I thought. I hate that I made you cry. It won't happen again, I promise.

Too bad I can never say any of that out loud.