"Jeez, you look awful," Emily informed Casey sympathetically, "Rough night?"
"Yeah. Something like that." Her friend informed her blandly, her eyes roving across the people entering the hallway. She was regretting not pushing her mother harder to let her stay home, who had told her to try to get through the day.
"Well, what was it about?" It was a question Casey expected, but she wasn't about to tell anyone what really transpired the night before.
A familiar head of auburn hair edged its way past girls who vied for his attention. He looked as tired as her. When Derek's eyes met hers, he froze.
It was Casey's turn to bolt. Emily watched her friend push past three people, dodge a fallen backpack, and slip around a corner without falling once.
"What the hell did you do to Casey?" She asked, shock on her face, "She didn't even run into someone."
Derek looked at her warily, then to the side, as though trying to think of the answer. He gave up when Emily started to look exasperated. "I'm too tired for this," he muttered, leaving her bewildered.
The girl was not going to be deterred. She saw Sam at his locker, ignored his greeting and asked, "What's going on with Derek?"
Sam sighed, "Does no one want to say hi anymore before they start a conversation?"
Emily shot him a look. "Hi, Sam. How are you? Good? Great. Now what's going on with Derek? Casey is being weird, too."
The blonde rolled his eyes. "I don't know, Emily. Derek said they got into a fight. Didn't really go into it."
"And that doesn't seem odd to you?" Emily pressed.
"Yeah, it does, Emily, but my life doesn't revolve around Derek and Casey and resolving their fights. They'll work it out, in the weird way they always do." He responded, and said, "Seriously, don't worry about it. Gotta go."
Emily hoped he was right.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Casey hid in the library for lunch, in the Art History section, where almost no one ever went, if the dust was any indication.
She hadn't seen Derek since that morning, but it didn't change the general unease she felt. Wishing she knew what to do, she began her math assignment and tried to push him out of her mind.
Meanwhile, the boy she was trying to stop thinking about was in the nurse's office, feigning sick for a nap. The nurse took one look at him and let him sleep despite the obvious lie, responding firmly, "I'll have to wake you up if you're not out of here after the bell."
Derek ignored her, shutting his eyes. He didn't sleep, but it kept him away from everyone who might want to talk to him.
Every minute undisturbed by people calling his name or asking him about his plans for the next night, however, was taken up by memorizing the way Casey's skin felt beneath his fingers, the way she tasted, the way her lips felt against his.
It was torture, but one he stopped trying to fight many hours before.
This was really all Casey's fault. She was the one that had to confront him and just blurt out her feelings, and she was supposed to be the smart one, she had to know what saying something like that would have done. She was the one constantly, irritatingly, reminding him that he was her stepbrother.
But he could have ignored it. Made a joke. Pretended he didn't care.
So it was actually his fault, for being the moron to up the ante and kiss her.
The worst thing was he wanted to do it again. He was acutely aware of the need, the want, ignited within him, unfurling, rushing through him now. It all made sense.
He didn't need Casey because she made him finish his homework and challenged him to do things he doubted he would otherwise. He didn't need Casey because she was fun to piss off. He didn't need her as a sister, or a friend. Casey was the only girl that hadn't fallen hook, line, and sinker for the charm and ego he passed off to others.
In fact, she detested that about him, and Derek hated that, hated the idea that it was all she saw. Sometimes he managed to show her that there was more, but he always fucked it up somehow, and making her mad, irritating her enough to start using words that only characters in Victorian-era novels used, that meant so little now.
He needed more, needed her to need him, needed her to see that he was more than that.
Derek wanted her to pick him, over Max, Sam, all of the guys that looked at her and placated her.
It occurred to him that things had fallen apart enough for things to never be the same, no matter what. It occurred to him, that in the middle of this chaos, he might have his chance.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
He had been prepared when he got home, sighing before knocking on her door, finding silence to greet him. She wasn't here, and she wasn't at Emily's (who appeared irritated at the dismissal of her questions). Nor was she at any of her favorite book haunts.
Playing 'Find Casey' was a feat harder than expected. Derek's resolve and confidence in his plan had decreased substantially with every half-hour that passed.
On the way home, the sign for the park he often took Marti to when she was younger caught his eye. Casey went there occasionally with the youngest siblings. Impulsively, he turned into the lot and left the car, picking a direction to walk at random.
There was a squeaking sound that grew louder as he continued walking. The swings did that, he remembered as they came into view. The sight revealed a familiar frame, hands wrapped around the chains tightly.
As Derek got closer, he recognized the backpack on the ground. It was Casey's.
A warm hand clasped her own, and Casey's breath caught, first out of fear of the unknown, second out of fear of the recognition of the voice behind her. "It's me, Case."
The swing beside her creaked as he sat down. It was lower than hers, bringing his knees to his nose. Casey laughed at the scowl on his face, but ceased when he returned to his feet and chose to face her instead.
"I'm not sorry about kissing you," she heard him finally say, as he shifted his eyes to the skyline behind her when her eyes widened in surprise, "so, I take that back."
A short laugh escaped his throat, he wasn't very good at this. Why he suddenly couldn't remember the script he'd spent memorizing was beyond him. "…and I had this…this whole speech planned out but I can't remember it now, no surprise there."
"There wasn't a Bazinga! at the end, was there?" Casey asked, "Because if this is a joke…"
The boy looked cross, as though insulted. "No, there wasn't, and I don't know why I'd say that at the end anyway, but this isn't a joke."
"Why? Why did you kiss me, then?" She asked.
"Why did you wait in my room with a list of the pros and cons of, from what I can tell, us dating?" He countered.
She scowled, he crossed his arms.
"Because when you said you needed me, it made me realize some things. We're not like Ed and Lizzie. I wished we were for a while, you know. They were instant friends and we…we just…never worked. But it's different with us." Casey said.
Upon seeing the imploring look on his face she continued, "I don't want…I don't want to be introduced as your stepsister. I don't want to be some built-in friend you can go to for girl advice like Ed does with Lizzie. I don't want to get close to you and have that all it be. I don't know how to explain…what I want, or what I feel, except that I know it's nothing like it should be. So we fight, instead, to make it fit."
Derek shrugged. "So why not stop trying to make it like it should be?" He held a hand up to her, "And don't say because our parents are married and it's complicated. Besides that."
"You can't just ignore that, Derek, and think it'll solve things." Casey muttered.
"There's exceptions to every rule. You're not my sister, step or otherwise, we didn't grow up together, and you're just going to have to face the reality sometime, Case." He snapped.
"Face what reality?" Was her query, sounding terse.
"The fact that I kissed you, and you kissed me back, and even with me standing an entire hallway away, or just two feet away, it's all you want to do again."
Casey looked away from him, swallowing hard. "I hate myself for it, Derek. Do you have any idea of what I've had to listen to in my head since I even admitted to myself I wanted this? You can't possibly, or you wouldn't be telling me that."
His hands lifted her face to meet his, looking grave. "I don't care what you say you want to do, but you're going to listen to me on one thing, okay? I am just a guy you met…because your mom married my dad. That's it. Whatever's telling you this is the biggest sin you've ever committed, ignore it, Case. Don't torture yourself over this."
"I'll try," she whispered, "But we can't do this, Der. I'm sorry." His hands fell from her face.
He forced a smile. The pain was evident. "All right, Case. But I'm still taking you home."
Our home, she thought, tears pricking her eyes.