Sorry it's been a while, my internet got cut off while we switched providers, but back on now :) I know this isn't a very long one after the wait, but for some reasons I can't resist car scenes in this fic :/
Anyway, hope you all enjoy :)
Disclaimer: I really think after all this time one of us fanfic writers should be awarded the rights... But apparently not
Chapter Twenty-Three
"All right, what's the matter with you?" Derek's voice snapped me out of my reverie.
I caught my eyes moments before they would have landed on his face. We were three hours into the drive home and I still had the overwhelming urge to run away. The conversation at dinner had hit way too close to home and had left me feeling mortified. Sometimes I love my family but others, others I begin to wonder if my mom has my adoption papers stashed anywhere I can find them and possibly track down my less crazy birth parents. Then I remember that if I had been secretly adopted then my mom's crazy organisational skills would ensure that I'd never find out anyway. "Nothing. Nothing's the matter." I said a little too quickly.
He glanced at me, a look that nearly lasted long enough to get me to yell at him about watching the road. "Seriously Case, you've barely spoken the whole time we've been driving. What's wrong?"
I sighed. "It's just... The conversation at dinner, it was..." I struggled to find words to say how uncomfortable it had made me feel without letting him know why.
To my surprise he laughed. "I know what you mean. Nothing like family to remind you of all your flaws."
I breathed out my relief, grateful that he'd thought up an excuse for me. "Yeah, although you didn't exactly help matters. You were the one who started it after all."
"Technically it was Marti that started it." He corrected.
"All the same. All that stuff about how it would take me the rest of my mortal life to plan a wedding and that I'd complain about the way someone proposed." I muttered, venting the aggravated embarrassment.
"I said you'd complain about the way I proposed. Whoever you end up with will probably do it perfectly. All candlelight and roses and heartfelt declarations of undying love." He replied, sarcasm dripping off every syllable.
"And how would you do it?" I snapped my mouth shut in horror the moment the words passed my lips, but by then it was too late.
A smirk graced his face. "It probably wouldn't be planned at all. We'd just be in the middle of something and I'd just blurt it out to annoy you."
"But you said you wouldn't ask if you didn't mean it." I said, confused.
"Who says I wouldn't mean it? Spontaneity doesn't mean dishonesty. Just means you'd probably get to pick your own ring."
I didn't really have an answer for that, so I dug out my book and attempted to read.
"Told you you'd complain. If I ever did that I'd never hear the end of it, and the only answer I'd get would be a eardrum busting DER-EK!" He looked pleased with himself for his squealy impression and the cheeky look on his face nearly had me forgive him everything. Nothing in specific. Just everything.
"Well, you'll never know, will you." I replied as cooly as I was able.
He was silent after that, and I was strangely disappointed.
"So when will you be able to drive us back home next?" I asked after fifteen minutes exactly.
"Not for a few weeks; coach has us doing extra practice after our last game." He grimaced as if remembering something embarrassing.
"But you guys won, didn't you?"
He nodded tightly. "Just. And it shouldn't have been a hard game; Queens' beats those guys every season."
"Well maybe that's why; they must pretty bored of losing. Good incentive to practice if ever I heard it." I really didn't get hockey. Surely if the teams have different people and more time to train inbetween seasons then they can't be expected to perform to the exact same level as last time? How can you anticipate how good a team is by whether they won a game they had different players for?
He threw a small smile my way. "I guess. And it isn't like we're planning on losing against the same guys as we did last year."
I smiled back, glad not only that I seemed to have cheered him up, but also that he'd avoided going into details or terminology; I was still a little muddled on most forms of sports. I wondered if I'd stand better chances with Derek if I knew more about hockey, then dismissed the idea entirely. As Jane Austin said; 'Where people wish to attach, they should always be ignorant. To come with a well−informed mind is to come with an inability of administering to the vanity of others'; meaning that men love to explain things, it makes them feel clever, so if you don't know something ask them instead of finding out yourself. A rule I had only started using since Truman.
"So, you found anywhere to dance yet?" He asked when I didn't reply.
"Not yet." I lied. I had, and I was going to join up once I got into a schedule with work and home visits, but Derek would only tease me about my minute perfect routines.
"I heard there's a club and a team." He said accusingly.
"There is." I answered, figuring no excuse was better than a bad excuse.
"So, why haven't you at least joined the club?" He asked.
I didn't answer.
"C'mon Case, this isn't still because you think dance isn't your future any more, is it?" He asked accusingly. "'Cause I already told you-"
"No," I cut him off, "I just want to make sure I have the time first."
"You're the unquestioned champion of organization; you'll make the time." He insisted.
"Just... Let me do it in my own time." I told him.
He opened his mouth to argue.
"I swear, I'll get around to it. Just not now." I spoke before he could.
After a few seconds and a glance at my stubborn expression he nodded and I breathed out gently, relieved that he had dropped it.
"So..." Derek breathed. It sounded strangely like someone who wanted to keep talking but couldn't think what to say. If I was any closer to finding a topic of conversation I would have spoken, but suddenly all I could think about was the fact that he wanted to talk to me. Eventually he seemed to think of something. "How's the thing with your room-mate working out? She let you use the phone more now?"
I nodded before realising that wouldn't help progress the conversation. "Yeah, she seems really happy. I think they both are. Whatever got him to call her, it was a real blessing for them." I couldn't help the little probing comment; I wanted to see if he'd give away any sign that it had been him.
A small twitch at the corners of his mouth was all I got. "Yeah, he probably always planned on calling. Maybe he was just busy."
"Derek, you're a guy. If you really like a girl, are you ever to busy for a phone call?" I asked sceptically.
He smirked. "I'm not usually the one doing the calling."
"Pig." I sneered, when I realised he was basically implying the female race couldn't stay away from him long enough for him to get around to it.
"Prude." He laughed, "Besides, when was the last time you actually waited for a guy to call you when you really liked them?"
I deliberately left him out of the question, meaning I came up with too long ago to remember. "I'm a modern, independent woman; I don't need to wait on a guy to call in case he thinks..."
"Thinks what?" Derek asked when I trailed off.
"That I'm needy... Obsessive or something." I mumbled, furiously fighting back the stinging in my eyes when I remembered Truman calling me both those things down the phone when I broke up with him the second time.
Derek's eyes shot to my face. "Why would anyone think that?"
I had to laugh at that coming from him. He had a policy of no call backs if a girl called more than three times before he called them.
"Seriously." He said, darting glances at my face every few seconds as a substitute for proper eye contact. "I mean, you can be a little..." He struggled to find a way to put it without offending me, "Aggressive. But that's just because you know what you want and why should you wait around for them to figure it out?"
I smiled a little at the irony. "Because boys are stupid?" My eyes, earlier refusing to focus on his face, now didn't want to leave it.
"All the more reason for you to make it easy for us and just tell us." He smiled a little. "Sometimes we don't do so well with subtle."
"I'm not exactly subtle when I like someone." I pointed out. "It's hard to miss the massive klutzilla attacks and incoherent ramblings."
"Have you ever considered that they might be a bit preoccupied with trying to hide their own klutzy behaviour to notice?" He said, like I was being an idiot.
"Yeah, right." I laughed.
"Everyone gets nervous around people they like, Case. Just because someone isn't causing a stair avalanche or spilling stuff, doesn't mean they don't feel just like you do. Doesn't mean they don't start rambling or making idiots of themselves. Doesn't mean they aren't just so freakin' scared of making themselves look more stupid than they already do!" His right hand had left the steering wheel to gesture while he spoke.
"Derek, two hands on the wheel!" I shrieked as we came up to a corner.
"Shit!" He clamped his hand back around the wheel and clenched his jaw.
I took a few breaths and swallowed. "So, how are you meant to know?"
He glanced at me. "Know what?"
"If someone likes you, feels nervous around you? How can you tell if you're both too caught up in trying not to act stupid?" I asked.
He gave a small, distracted smile and shrugged. "You ask?"