It was about 5:30 when I began heading home from the library.
Our apartment is within walking distance of the University, and despite the freezing air, I texted Derek to tell him not to bother picking me up. I'd be home soon.
I needed to get my mind off everything, even for just a little while. And what better way to do that than by immersing myself in my studies.
The entire day, I couldn't get last night out of my head. Even though it took me awhile to fall asleep, I eventually had, only to wake up with my face planted against Derek's bare back.
I was all cocooned and toasty warm, snuggled up like I hadn't a care in the world.
Me? Snuggled up to Derek? Yeah, hell has officially frozen solid.
Somewhere in the middle of the night, I had ended up smack dab in the center of the bed, instead of hanging off the edge like I had been when I first fell asleep.
I felt kind of bad for taking up so much room, because I'm pretty sure Derek hadn't moved a muscle the entire night.
I was entirely too comfortable given the situation, even though I had been a neurotic mess when he climbed into bed beside me.
When morning rolled around, I realized how close I was to him, the whole thing had freaked me out. I was severely second guessing taking my wall of pillows down. I should have just let him give me a hard time about it and kept them in place. I could have gone a lifetime without knowing how warm, and solid, and good Derek smelled in the morning.
Who in the hell smells that good in the morning?
It was totally shocking, given how messy he is.
Anyway, I wiggled my way out of our mountain of covers without waking him up. When the alarm had finally buzzed, he looked dead to the world like he had just fallen asleep, and now it was time to get up for class.
Monday is the only day where both of us have a class first thing in the morning.
I give a heavy sigh when I finally make it back to our apartment, mentally preparing myself to see Derek for the first time since this morning.
I unlock the door and let myself in.
The first thing I notice is the aroma of mouth-watering food. My stomach growls at the smell, and I quickly realize I hadn't eaten since before my exam this morning where I had forced down a piece of toast and some coffee.
My mind had been way too preoccupied with thoughts of school and - - Derek.
I pause, looking up at the number on our door, convinced I had let myself into the wrong apartment.
238 B.
No, I'm in the right place, alright.
Derek must have ordered take-out yet again this week. If we blow through anymore of our food fund, George is going to have an aneurism.
I drop my bag next to the door and shrug out of my coat, hanging it on the hook next to Derek's precious leather jacket. He's had that thing since before I knew him. Surprisingly, it's still in fantastic shape. He takes care of that old jacket better than he's ever taken care of anything else in his life.
Peeking around the corner, I instantly see him hovering over the stove, his back turned to me.
He's wearing the green button up shirt that Mom had given him a few Christmas' ago.
As far I as I know, it's been hanging in the back of his closet ever since, waiting for the day to make an appearance for funerals and weddings. It's a little tight now, stretched across his back since he's no longer that scrawny kid from high school. He's still lean, just solid.
On top of the new look, he is also freshly showered.
His hair is still wet and a little curled on the ends.
The hairs at the base of his neck are grazing his collar and I take a moment to just stare, realizing how attractive he actually is. I'm not sure why I always threw up in my mouth a little when the girls in high school would gush over him on a daily basis.
Maybe I just didn't want to admit it to myself.
I'm Casey McDonald. I always do the right thing and finding your step-brother attractive was the complete opposite of doing the right thing.
At least…I always used to do that right thing. Until now, that is.
Why is it that I wait until now to have these thoughts; until we're legally married and it's only a temporary arrangement? It's like I'm torturing myself on purpose.
I frown, tearing my gaze away from him before my thoughts get a chance to go any further and I realize how crazy I actually am.
I notice that the dining room table is set, two long white candles glowing bright and a bottle of wine sitting between two glasses. Derek and I usually sit at opposite ends of the table, but right now, two place settings are side by side.
I can't help but be shocked at the sight. He always waits for me to cook dinner, and whenever we'd have a fight so big that I refused to feed his neanderthal butt, he'd just order enough food for himself and let me starve.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I slowly make my way towards the kitchen, clearing my throat loud enough to be heard.
Derek turns his head to look at me and I instantly see the nervousness in his eyes.
"Hey, Case," he says before turning back to the task at hand. "You're just in time for supper."
"What's all this?" I ask in confusion, pointing to the food simmering on the stove.
"What do you think it is?" he asks as if this whole situation is completely normal. "When you sent me that text at 2:30 saying you were going to the library to study and you'd be home soon, I figured it would be a solid three hours before you got here. Sometimes, I know you better than you know yourself. Now sit down."
Normally, I wouldn't do anything Derek asked me to do, but I'm too hungry to argue. With a heavy sigh, I pull out one of the chairs and take a seat.
Derek grabs an oven mitt and brings over the entire skillet, pouring a heaping amount of pasta onto both of our plates.
"Looks good," I mutter, genuinely impressed at how delicious it really does looks.
"Caprese Pasta," he answers with pride, a slow smile forming on his lips as his previous nervousness slowly begins to fade. "Did you know that the internet literally has a million recipes on it? I did have to look up what the word al dente meant, but other than that, it's like impossible to mess up."
He moves back to our open kitchen and sits the skillet back down.
Derek's light mood and surprisingly good cooking skills are throwing me for a loop. Whenever we were kids and Mom and George didn't have time to cook dinner – which was more often than you might think – Derek would offer to make his extra cheesy mac and cheese.
It's the only thing I've ever seen him cook.
Edwin and Marti loved it. Lizzie tolerated it. And I was just glad when Derek offered to do something nice for the family without being told to.
Before sitting down, he grabs the bottle of wine and opens it with a corkscrew until a loud pop fills the air. He pours us both a glass and I can't help but lift my eyebrow in surprise. I'm still a few months away from being the legal drinking age, and I've never had any type of alcohol before. Derek knows this.
I'm beginning to get a sneaking suspicion that he's up to something. The whole "romantic dinner" thing is taking our bet a little too far.
"What did you do?" I ask, narrowing my eyes while gazing up at him with suspicion.
Derek pauses mid pour to look down at me and I can see that same nervousness return, but he just shrugs before continuing to pour.
"Nothing. I - - I just thought it would be a nice change if I tried cooking dinner for once, you know, since you're always the one feeding me."
I give a heavy sigh at his vague answer and pick my fork up, not convinced that he doesn't have a secret motive.
I put a few pieces of pasta in my mouth and am pleasantly surprised that it's as delicious at it looks.
"Really good," I say with my mouth full, nodding in approval.
Derek beams, finally sitting down and shoving a fork full into his own mouth.
We sit in silence, both clearly too hungry to talk as our forks clank against our plates.
I watch Derek take a sip of wine, which is surprising since I've never seen him drink anything other than beer or hard liquor. He probably considers wine a 'girly drink,' but chances are when he had been googling Italian recipes, it told him to have a bottle of wine with it.
Reluctantly, I reach out for my own glass and bring it to my lips, sniffing it before taking a small sip.
It's not bad.
I take a second sip and I can see Derek out of the corner of my eye watching me with an amused look on his face. It's not mocking or condescending in any way. It's almost as if he's watching me because he's finding my first taste of alcohol…adorable?
He full on smiles enough that the dimple in his cheek pops out before taking one more drink himself and going back to his own pasta.
What in the hell has gotten into him?
I allow a few more minutes of silence to ensue as we continue eating our dinner before I finally crack. I can't take it anymore.
"Okay, Derek," I say, putting my fork down and folding my arms, leaning back in my chair. "What did you do?"
He freezes mid bite to look over at me, taking in my defensive stance. It is the same posture I've always had whenever confronting him about something he had done.
Dropping his fork down with a loud clank, he immediately turns an irritated eye my way.
Now that's more like it. That's the Derek I know. That's the Derek I know how to handle.
"You couldn't make it a full meal, could you?" he says, acting like I'm the one doing something wrong here. "I didn't do anything, Casey," he finishes, a little too defensively.
"Why don't I believe you?"
"Can't I just do something nice without you nagging me for once?"
"No! You can't do something nice for me and expect me to just accept it. You never do anything nice for me at all. Ever! Is this for the bet? You think that if you show what a nice husband you are and that you're willing to do anything for the next two weeks, I'll decide that I have zero chance of winning, and ask for the annulment first. Am I right?"
Derek's reaction throws me off guard. I expect him to yell at me in return or laugh in my face. It was always one or the other. Instead, he gives a heavy sigh, looking down at his nearly empty plate.
"This has nothing to do with the stupid bed," he says wearily, standing up and taking both of our plates to the kitchen before I can stop him. "Forget it."
Forget it? Forget what?
"Forget what?" I echo my thoughts, biting down on my bottom lip for always voicing my inner psyche. It was a bad habit of mine.
"It's nothing, Casey," he says my name a little too loudly for emphasis, scraping our uneaten food into the garbage before placing the dishes in the sink. "I'll remember never to do anything nice for you ever again since that's what is expected of me."
"You can't blame me for being suspicious? Candles, "a romantic dinner for two," I say with exaggerated air quotes. "Not to mention you showered and put on a clean shirt that has zero graphics on it."
"So that's what this is? I put too much effort into being a nice guy? If I had heated up a couple of fucking tv dinner and tossed you a bottle of water, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now, would we?"
I look away and fold my arms, feeling a little bad for jumping down his throat despite my continued flared temper. But you don't understand. I've spent years with Derek and his track record on doing something nice isn't exactly spotless.
"Look me in the eye and tell me that you don't have an ulterior motive," I breathe in before finishing my thought, speaking softly. "If you do that…then, I'll apologize. The pasta was really good…and the wine was better than I thought it would taste. Thank you for the effort."
I'm speaking to Derek's back and his shoulders slump at my feeble attempt to be the bigger man and back down.
Several seconds go by with him unmoving, his fingers tapping lightly against the counter top.
"Okay. There is this one thing…"
"I knew it!" I exclaim, walking over to him quickly and poking him in the chest with my index finger as soon as he turns around to face me. He backs up against the sink, practically jumping up on the counter to get away from me. "You did do something. What, Derek? What is it? What…did…you…do? Did you blow our rent money for this month? Did you steal something? Did you put itching powder in my underwear again? Did you…"
"Chillax woman!" Derek cuts me off, grabbing my shoulders to push me back so that he can break free. I only follow him as he runs around the island to get away from me.
"What did you do, Derek!?" I ask for the millionth time as he grabs the back of his dining room chair to put a barrier between us.
"You need to calm down, drink some more wine, and then I'll tell you. It's not a life or death situation, I promise."
With narrowed eyes glued on Derek, I reluctantly grab my glass of wine, surprising myself when I down the rest of it in three gulps before sitting down none too gently.
Great. Now Derek has driven me to drink. This has officially become our new 'rock bottom.'
"Now spill."
Derek sits back down too, clasping his hands in front of him.
"Okay, um…it sort of has to be with rule number 2."
Rules?
I look to the side, taken aback slightly, trying to remember the rules in order that I had made him promise to abide by. And then it hits me. I'm not sure why my heart speeds up at the prospect, but I don't like it.
I shift in my seat uncomfortably.
"The no dating while married rule?" I hear spill from my lips.
"Yeah, that one," he concurs, nodding his head without looking at me. "The things is, I had this…date…set up for Saturday night before all of this happened. Well, this morning on my way to class, that same girl stopped me and started going all postal. You know what I'm talking about," he finishes, pointing at me like going postal is something I should understand all too well.
"I do not go postal!"
"Yeah, Case, you kinda do."
"But…"
"Do you want me to finish the story or not?"
Once again, I fold my arms and cross my legs, bouncing it up and down. I'm looking everywhere but at Derek.
"Anyway, I panicked and told her that the reason I never showed up for our date was because I met someone."
This catches me off guard slighting and I turn my gaze back to him, my lips jutting out in a pout as I ask, "You did?"
"Yes. And to make a long story short, she asked me to come to a party of Friday night and strongly suggested that I should bring my new "girlfriend." Before I knew what was happening, I accepted. I sort of have this gut feeling that she doesn't believe that I suddenly started seeing someone out of the blue. Either way, her ego is massively bruised. Anywho, I was hoping that just for one night…you would did this one thing for me? If it won't kill you, that is?"
I think long and hard about what Derek is saying. He knows I hate parties, but it's hard to believe that he would go through all this trouble just to show up at one with me as his date.
"Whose party is it?"
He scratches the side of his head before answering. "Shawn's. It's at his frat house."
I knit my eyebrows together in confusion. "Shawn? As in the guy on your hockey team?"
"Yup, that's the one."
"But he knows that I'm your step-sister."
Derek nods his head slowly, tapping his fingers on the table before changing direction and going straight for the wine. "Yup, he sure does."
"But nobody is supposed to know about the bet, Derek."
He swallows his drink harshly, shaking his head before pouring me another glass in turn. I'm too nervous to tell him no. "We don't have to tell them about the bet or, you know – marriage. It's just you and me, two college freshmen forced to live alone together where we suddenly realized that our feelings of hate and utter repulsion have exploded into a fiery passion."
I lift my eyebrows at his description of our fake situation, waiting for him to say more.
"It's just one night, Casey. It won't kill us."
It just might.
If Shawn was going to be there, that meant that most of the hockey team would be there, and they all knew that I was Derek's step-sister. He never tried to hide me from his new college friends the way he had with his friends back in high school when our parents first got married, much to my surprise.
Now, I wished he had.
What was Derek thinking telling this girl that he would bring me as his date? I have to admit, a small pain of jealousy coursed through me when Derek said that he talked to the girl he had stood up this weekend.
But it quickly faded when he shot her down, yet again. And he wanted me to technically meet her…as his girlfriend.
I'm still a bit surprised that he's willing to go along with rule number 2 without putting up a fight.
"Can I think about it," I mutter quietly, not quite ready to fully commit.
Derek just gazes at me, waiting to see if I'll suddenly change my mind on a dime and say, 'Absolutely! There's nothing I want more than to go to a party where we could potentially end up as the laughingstock of Queen's University despite having over three years left before graduation. Sounds perfect!'
"Sure, Case. Take all the time you need," he finally says quietly, once again drinking more wine.
That settles is. We've driven each other to both drink apparently.
This was supposed to be our little secret. Nobody is supposed to know, even if we don't actually tell them about the bet. However, showing up to a big gathering on the arm of Derek Venturi is bound to get tongues wagging, and I'm not sure if I'm willing to go there just yet.
But after years of watching girls on the arm of Derek Venturi, maybe it's finally my turn to get a taste of what that felt like.