I'm not sure what got into me.

Maybe it was the blue in her eyes. The way they twinkled when she was giving me "rules," or maybe it was the way she let her guard down after having a glass of wine or two. It could be in the way her brownies made my knees buckle and were ten times better than her chocolate chip pancakes that she only makes for me when she really fucks up, like the time she told Shlepper I failed grade one. At the time, it had seemed like the end of the world. But in the end, nobody gave a rat's ass and by lunch, I was once again the sole ruler of Thompson High.

I let her sweat it out for a few days after that unfortunate little incident, but in reality, I'd forgiven her almost instantly. It was an accident, after all, and I knew that. But if I'd told her not to worry about it, I wouldn't exactly be doing my duty as a step-brother.

I'm leaning against the counter with my feet crossed, a black coffee in one hand, and a newspaper in the other. Aside from the sports section, I couldn't tell you what goes into a morning newspaper other than boring ass articles and dead people.

And while I was looking up the latest report on sports, I'd come across the Wanted Ads. I'd never looked up jobs before. They just kind of came to me. I'd walk in somewhere, turn up the charm a notch or two, and BAM! I was hired.

Easiest fucking thing in the world.

And now that the hockey season ended last night; we won of course…nothing was stopping me from getting a job.

In all honesty, I can't tell Dad that I married his step-daughter without being respectfully employed. Okay, I know what you're thinking. Nobody is ever supposed to find out, right? Well…a few days ago, I would have said 'NO WAY!' But ever since our late night "bonding" sesh a few days ago, there's been a new weight sitting on my chest. As of right now, yes, nobody will ever know. But the future has a way of throwing curve balls, and the past week has been proof of that. So maybe having a job would soften the blow if it ever came to spilling the beans to the 'rents.

And while Smelly Nelly's was alright, and the pay could be worse for a high school kid, I was no longer that same charming kid with a 'fake-it-till-you-make-it' attitude.

I scan over the ads.

Most were full-time positions with some experience required, your typical Monday-Friday type of gig. There were other positions posted, a few part-time, but the pay was garbage compared to the full-time postings. Honestly, I could probably fake a resume fairly easily and just convince the people who do the hiring that I have experience, but then there was the small inconvenience of me needing to go to class on most weekday mornings.

It was in that moment that Casey decided to walk out into the open from the hallway, her arms stretched out wide while she did a little turn. I look up at her from beneath my bangs and flip the paper closed with two fingers. A raise an eyebrow in question.

"Well?" she asks, her voice sounding hopeful. I have no idea what she wants from me.

"You actually showered the layers of grossness off this morning?" I say smugly, hiding a smile from behind my coffee mug.

She grumbles a little, but doesn't yell at me. "Tonight…for the party. How do I look?"

Casey does another 360-degree twirl, this time much slower. While her butt does look nice in those jeans, I can't hide the little grimace on my face.

"What's wrong?" she says instantly, her face falling while looking down at her tight t-shirt and plain jeans, topped with bright white sneakers that look they've been scrubbed so hard that the rubber could fall off at any moment. "Do I have a stain?" she asks, frantically searching for a blemish that doesn't exist.

I put down my coffee and grab her by the shoulder's, giving her a little shake. "Relax, spaz. There's no stain. But I'll be damned if I walk into some party with a girl who's dressed like she's about to take an AP calculus examine."

She looks down at her clothes again before jutting her bottom lip out in that adorable way of hers. I take an inconspicuous breath to get a grip. Get it together, Venturi. I instantly let go of her shoulders to break contact. She doesn't seem to notice. "I think I look nice. I've been trying to find the perfect outfit for the past three days, and when I finally decide on something, you think I look like a dork."

"I always think you look like a dork."

"Derek," she growls in a very un-Casey-like way while crossing her arms. "That is three insults since I've walked in here."

I swallow harshly and step back, crossing my arms in a similar fashion as I take in her words. I give a nervous chuckle. "Sorry. Old habits are hard to break," I mumble, doing everything within my power to avoid eye contact. I move past her towards the bedroom and open our newly shared closet, which was irritating me more and more each day. My clothes officially had the stench of Casey, and it wasn't a bad smell like I've convinced myself it would be after all these years. It was a mixture of sunshine, daisies, and rainbows. At least, what I imagine rainbows would smell like if you could sniff one.

Here I am, thinking about girly shit. I can feel the testosterone leaving my body as I speak.

"Now we use to go to high school parties all the time and you never wore jeans…except for that first one where you wore sweats and we got stuck in the bathroom, but that was my-bad because I didn't give you a heads-up…" I stumble over my last words, and roll my eyes when I notice she never followed me down the hall.

I walk back to the open door and peak around the corner. She's still standing in her pouting stance, her arms folded and her head bent, that long dark hair attempting to cover the bad mood she was now in, thanks to me. "Case! Get you're butt in here. We have class in an hour in case you've forgotten. Of course, I don't care if I'm late, but I don't know about you?"

That seemed to get her attention.

With two tiny fists balled tight at her sides, she finally gives in and marches down the hall. For someone so petite, she sure can sound like a stampede of elephants.

"You wouldn't know fashion if it hit you in the face."

"I may not know chick's fashion, but I do know what babes wear to parties," I say as I begin rummaging through her clothes.

Dork, dork, extra dorky…

Casey gives a heavy sigh before sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Can we not refer to women as chicks and babes, please."

"Oh, right. I need to be more sensitive and women libby."

Casey bobs her foot up and down at a rapid pace. "Well, at least you're a little less sexist than you used to be."

"Progress, huh?!" I exclaim proudly as a red little number catches my eye. It's pushed so far back against the wall, I almost miss it all together. I hold it up and give a low whistle. "Now what do we have here?"

Before I can really get a good look at it, it's suddenly pulled from my fingers. Casey hides it behind her back, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Oh no you don't," I say, grabbing her around the waist and reaching behind her for THE dress. THE dress I'd probably have a heart attack over if I ever saw it clinging to her body. I'm so determined to get ahold of it, I barely register Casey's soft yet firm frame against my own. Her, on the other hand, must have realized how close we were because she suddenly releases the material to push on my chest until I fall back a few steps. We're both a little out of breath, but I'm so preoccupied with the fact that I won this battle, that I can hardly think of anything else.

"What is little miss goody-two-shoes doing with a dress like this? I mean, I've seen you in miniskirts and short dresses before, but damn. Where has this Casey been hiding?"

"She hasn't been hiding," she says in a low voice, embarrassed, her gaze adverted. "I bought it after graduation. When I was still seeing Truman."

The mention of Truman instantly makes me see red.

"Besides," she shakes her head like she's trying to bring herself back to reality. "It was Kendra's idea. She took me shopping."

"Like that loser would ever take you somewhere where you can actually wear this."

"It wasn't for going out," Casey says before lifting her chin a little and hesitating before finishing her thought. "It was for…staying in."

"Why would you bother wearing it if you were just going to st…Ohhhhhh," realization finally dawns. I groan a little, suddenly sick to my stomach. Truman? The cheating, no good, ass hole that I accidently threw back into Casey's arms because of my own selfishness. That Truman. Afraid of my next question, I had to know if I needed to track Truman down and finally kill the bastard like I should have done the first time he dared to hurt Casey

"Please tell me you didn't?" I cringe, bracing for the impact of her confession.

She grabbed the fabric from my hands once more, and this time, I let it go. She began to play with the tulle. "Not that it's any of your business, but no. We broke up before it could happen."

A wave of relief washes over me and I let out the breath I had no idea I'd been holding. I clutch my chest, "Oh thank God," I whisper to myself, trying to wait for my vision to clear.

Unfortunately, Casey must have heard because she instantly looks confused. "Why do you care?"

I could play it off and act like I don't.

But with those blue eyes gazing up at me in confusion, I find myself doing something I've never done before with Casey. Tell the truth. "Because that asshole never deserved you in the first place."

She looks taken aback by my words. I can tell she's not used to me saying that she's better than anyone; too good for someone else. But the truth is, I can't think of one person that is fit enough to kiss the ground she walks on, myself included.

Casey gives a delicate shrug. "We had just graduated and were about to go off to different universities. I had just turned eighteen…and I thought he had changed. But clearly, I was wrong."

"Did you love him?" the words tumble from my lips and I want to kick myself so fucking hard for sounding weak. But even though I want to run, I find myself staying because I need to know.

"I…" Casey gives a hard swallow. "I was going to sleep with him."

I give a harsh laugh before sitting next to her on the edge of the bed. "There's a difference between love and sex, Princess. They don't always go hand in hand."

"Have you ever loved anyone?" Casey asks, taking me off guard.

"We're not talking about me. Besides," I say, deflecting the question. "I asked you first."

She starts to bite down on her bottom lip, making it red and irritated. I suddenly have the urge to kiss it and I can't tear my gaze away, no matter how hard I try.

"No."

"No, what?" I say, suddenly unable to remember what I had asked her in the first place.

"No, I didn't love Truman," she confessed. "I was an eighteen-year-old virgin. And don't get me wrong. I've always been a wait-till-marriage kind of girl, but then Kendra kept telling me how great sex was and then Emily was talking about…"

"Hmm?" I say, slowly pulling myself back to the conversation. "What did Emily say?"

"I had to hear about the two of you…ya know…"

"Fucking," I finish for her. Before I know it, that glorious red dress hits me in the face so hard that I fall off the bed and face down onto the floor with a thud.

"Just when I think you might have finally changed, you find a way to be your old nasty disrespectful self!"

"What did I say?!" I yell back, leaping to my feet. "Emily told you about us fucking. And YOU were curious about it. Did I miss something?"

"You don't have to be so crass! And that's my best friend you're talking about!"

"I told you, love and sex don't go together."

"And I say they do! So, is that your answer to the question? You've never been in love? What about Sally?"

"Don't bring Sally into this," I growl, balling my own fists and feeling the sudden urge to hit something. I've never been violent with Casey before, no matter how many times we've fought in the past. And I'd never hit her, not in a thousand years, but the cream-colored wall behind her head was looking pretty good right about now.

"So, you did love her? Why won't you just admit it for once? That you aren't some unfeeling, uncaring jerk that doesn't care about anyone but himself?!"

I'm not angry because I loved Sally. The only thing I feel towards Sally is pure guilt. Guilt over the way things ended between us because I never could admit my true feelings to my first real monogamous relationship.

She had to be the one to tell me how I really felt.

I step towards Casey, and I know I have the look of murder in my eyes. I must, because it's not until her back hits the wall that I realize she'd been backing away from me. Instead of walking out like I know I should, I hit my palm against the wall behind her, and see her visibly flinch, those brave and daring eyes refusing to leave my own.

"When will you ever learn?"

"Learn what?" she whispers, her breathing heavy as her chests rises and falls rapidly.

"To leave well enough alone."

A long silence falls between us. And no matter how angry I feel with this girl, the urge to kiss her is always stronger. But I refrain, like I'd done dozens of times in the past.

"It was only a question, Der."

"Yes," I finally say. I can see that my one-word answer took her slightly off guard.

"Yes?"

"I have been in love," I admit, unsure how the next words fall from my lips. I whisper them, like I'm afraid to hear my own voice finally admit the inevitable. "But Sally was never the one I loved."

I can see the changes happening within her eyes. She's taking in my words.

She seems frozen and confused. But Casey's always been smart; too smart for her own good, and as my own gaze flicks over her flawless features, a heavy realization seems to strike her.

She gasps audibly. Her hand coming up quickly to clamp over her mouth, like she could take the sound back with that one little action.

But she couldn't. Neither of us could.

It was out there, unspoken between the both of us. And while I didn't come right out and say it, she knew. And for some odd reason, I felt relief.

It was like letting out some deep dark secret that you swore to take to the grave, only to find out that spending life behind bars was somehow more freeing than freedom itself.

Bending my head down until I could feel her shocked breath on my face, I say, "I'll see you tonight, wearing this," I hold up the dress, not realizing I'd been holding it this entire time. "Is that clear?"

She gives a numb nod. "Y…yes." She grabs for it, holding the material in her arms like it's somehow a shield between us.

I take advantage of the vulnerable state she is in, pushing my luck a step further. "And there's a hot tub at the frat house. Bring a bikini."

"I'm not getting in some gross hot tub with a bunch of horny hockey players and their sloppy seconds."

"Casey…"

"Fine," she gives in fairly quickly, much to my surprise. I decide to take this win, which I'm certain is due to her continued shock at my unspoken spoken confession, and I walk away, leaving her rooted in the same spot, pressed with her back against the wall and her head spinning.