I can feel the music pounding through my chest. I'm a little dizzy and dazed from the drinks I've had, but I can't help but smile. For the first time in my life, I feel…free. And never in my wildest imagination could I fathom feeling this way because of the bane of my existence. Derek.

I vaguely recall the rules I'd given him about no heavy drinking. I, myself, have broken my own rules. Up until a few nights ago, I'd barely tasted alcohol. And while my own blurred gaze looks up into his clear brown ones, somehow, he has done exactly what I've asked of him.

It's hard to keep my eyes from following the bead of sweat cascading down his neck; the need to catch it with my tongue is incredibly strong. If I'd been sober, I'd probably find that thought disgusting, but right now, it's all I want. Thankfully, it disappears into his tight t-shirt that shows every new taunt muscle he'd acquired since the beginning of university, before I can act on my impulses. He'd always been attractive, even when he was just plain skinny. And being the good girl that I was, I'd put on my headphones to blare Shakira or the Pussy Cat Dolls until those thoughts finally subsided.

Before the rational part of my brain can win over, I reach both hands up, and lay my palms against his hard chest, my nails digging lightly into his shirt. His breath catches as my touch.

"Did you mean what you said earlier tonight?" I yell above the music.

He raises an eyebrow in question, that charming smirk firmly in place. "I've said a lot of things tonight, Princess. You'll have to be more specific."

I know it's the screwdriver, several shots, and spiked punch running through my veins that make my next words so bold, but I'd like to think it's just me. "That you think I look incredible. You've never said that to me before."

Derek's smile falls a little, his lips twitching at my question. As his hands grasp each of my wrists, I think he's going to move away from me. It'd be in typical Derek fashion to ruin this moment. But instead, he places both of my arms around his neck before gently grazing my bare skin with his fingertips, moving down my arms and onto my back. Our bodies stop moving to the pounding music. It's as if his touch is moving in slow motion until finally, he grasps my waist tight and pulls me fully against him. It's the closest we'd ever been.

He leans down to whisper in my ear, my body shivering at the sensation. "I've never wanted someone so much, Case. You've always been a knockout, but tonight…fuck."

I don't say anything as I let his words rush over me. This is too much. I know it's too much, but I can't tear myself away. I clutch tighter at his sweat soaked neck, the heat of the room rising with each passing moment. I gaze up, daring to rest my eyes on his lips. I used to lay awake at night, wondering what those lips could do to me. I'd try to shamelessly imagine after hearing girls talk in the hallway about the very guy whose room rested on the other side of my bedroom wall.

But I'm Casey McDonald. I'd never allow myself to actually experience those lips firsthand.

Would I?

"How are we going to do this?" he asks, reaching up to run a thumb lightly across my bottom lip.

I tremble. "Do what?" I breathe out, shocked that he can hear my whisper. Maybe, he simply read my lips. It wouldn't be surprising considering how intently he's staring at them.

"Live alone together and not make love."

I stop breathing. I couldn't have heard him correctly. Could I? He wouldn't just come right out and say something so…so…so incredibly hot.

Just then, he lifts my chin with his finger. This can't be happening. Derek is going to kiss me. I may have secretly thought about this moment in the shower a time or two as I struggled to wash away the seductive thoughts, but it was really happening.

Here, in the middle of a heated a room, surrounded with onlookers and sweaty drunk bodies.

I force myself to look to the right and see a couple making out, the girl already topless and on the verge of getting it on in a crowded room. To my left, a game of beer pong and loud cheering as someone downs a drink from a red solo cup. And just behind them, a pair of seething eyes directed at me as if she'd like to murder me and bury my body where it'd never be found.

This wasn't right.

This wasn't the moment I'd shamelessly thought about in my youth.

I pull away from him, bumping into someone so hard that it nearly knocks me off my feet. Derek immediately reaches out to steady me before I fall flat on my face. "I'm sorry," I say in a panicked voice to the person I'd run into. Maybe I'm apologizing to Derek, too.

"Casey?" Derek asks, concerned; his handsome face genuinely confused. His voice is distant as the blood rushes to my ears. "Are you okay?"

"I..I can't…" I swallow hard, twisting until he finally releases me. I find the wall and cling to it, holding myself up somehow. I'm married. I'm married to my step-brother. I'm married to Derek Venturi. What will Mom say? What will George do? Lizzie will be so disappointed in me.

I'm eighteen years old.

I can feel the tears starting to come.

I can't breathe. I need to get out of here. I somehow stumble my way up the stairs, cursing myself for drinking so much.

Cursing myself for wanting what I shouldn't.

I watch her go.

"Shit," I mutter to myself as I watch her disappear up the stairs. Why did I say that?

Because it's the truth, that's why. One of us had to say it. I can't live with her and not touch her. Not for another fucking minute.

"Trouble in paradise?" an amused voice asks from behind me, and I immediately close my eyes against the unwanted sound.

"Sarah," I ground out, not trying to hide my annoyance. "Now isn't a good time."

"Really?" she retorts, reaching out to place a well-manicured hand on my shoulder before pressing herself against me. "Because it looks like you've been trying to shove your new fling in my face all night, and we both know that underneath that tight little dress and tipsiness is a good girl that's afraid of going bad."

I open my mouth to tell her to go to hell. The words are right on the tip of my tongue. But as much as I'd love to tell her how wrong she is, I'm surprised at how on point her observation is. Aside from trying to shove Casey in her face. I hadn't thought about Sarah once tonight until this very moment.

"I'm not talking about Casey with you," I say, turning away to leave her behind.

"Shawn told me she's your step-sister." I pause and turn back around, narrowing my eyes.

"Is that before or after you let him pound you in the upstairs bathroom?"

I know my cutting words got to her. For once, her poised façade falters and those confident arched brows fall in embarrassment. She tries to collect herself quickly, clearing her throat. "So, you have been watching me tonight?" she says, a little too smug for my liking.

I let out a sarcastic laugh. "No. I just know your party routine."

"And isn't that your type?" she asks, sauntering towards me, a drink in one hand as she traces one finger down my chest. I'm not affected like she'd like me to be. This isn't my first rodeo with some chick that wants to get it my pants. Her fingers stop at the waist band of my jeans. "You know that little miss goody-two shoes will never be able to satisfy that sadistic craving you have for wild sex. I mean, that is why you're trying to sleep with her, isn't it? Because it's the only thrill you have left? To fuck what you can't have."

Those last words come out in an all-knowing whisper like she'd hit the nail on the head.

Had she?

I swallow hard. Was I too far gone? Had I slept with so many girls, that the thrill just wasn't there anymore, so it made me want to feel the thrill of the chase? I've never had to chase anyone before. They always came to me.

However, there was this hot girl offering me sex on a silver platter, and I wasn't taking the bait. Of course, she is one of the few girls I hadn't slept with at parties. She'd already been passed around the hockey team, and I could smell her desperation. Something always told me that she'd be a stage five clinger if I ever allowed myself to fuck her. And when I'd agreed to go out with her, I'd had a lot of alcohol and every other cunt in the vicinity.

I'd made a huge mistake giving her the time of day.

"Why don't you forget the goody-goody and loosen up a little. Maybe join me in the hot tub and have a little fun," she purrs, shoving her drink into my hand. I hold her gaze for several seconds before bringing the cup to my lips and drinking deep. The burning liquid feels incredible going down.

What am I doing?

I turn to follow, my feet slowly making my way towards the back yard. And as I watch Sarah sway her hips seductively in front of me as I take another long drink of burning liquid until the contents of the cup are gone, my steps stop.

I crush the red cup in my hand and let it fall to the ground.

I know what I want. And nothing is going to stop me from getting it.

Not Casey. Not our family. Not myself. And certainly not some girl that I couldn't care less about.

I turn around and begin to run. I run up the stairs, leaping over bodies sprawled across the steps.

"Casey!" I scream, pounding on door after door, refusing to give up until I find exactly what I'm looking for.