V

When Casey woke up the next morning, her first thought was 'how did I get here?'

Her second?

'Shit.'

She buried her face in her pillow as memories of the previous night came flooding back.

She'd made an absolute fool of herself in front of Derek, and the worst part was that their conversation was a blur. She remembered the gist of it: the crying, the whining, the overt honesty.

Since when did they have that kind of relationship? Had he just put up with her because she was drunk and emotional and he was trying to pacify her? It hadn't felt that way at the time but what did she know? The only two things she remembered vividly were the sick feeling in her stomach and the image of his lips.

"Oh god," she said out loud.

She was terrified to leave her room and face Derek sober, but she desperately needed to use the bathroom and had a compulsive desire to shower and brush her teeth as soon as possible.

She stood at her bedroom door and listened for any evidence of Derek's presence in her apartment, but heard none. She cautiously opened the door and poked her head into the living room to find that Derek was nowhere in sight. There was, however, a box of mini-croissants on the table with a note that read:

Figured you'd want some carbs.

He was right. The thought of eating fruit at the moment, or god forbid, eggs, made her stomach turn. The feeling improved slightly when she acknowledged the fact that Derek had actively bought her hangover food. Maybe she hadn't been so annoying after all?

She grabbed a croissant and devoured it on her way to the bathroom. She then took what may have been the longest shower of her life, scared to leave that safe little bubble and find Derek had returned from wherever he'd gone.

As the hot water poured over her body she thought back to the previous night; the way that scumbag at the club had presumptuously appeared behind her; (did no one ask anymore?); the way he had caressed her in ways that made her uncomfortable, to say the least; the way he had told her to "relax, baby" when she tried to remove his hands from her breasts; the way he'd grabbed her wrist so forcefully that she'd actually become frightened. The worst part, however, was Casey's disappointment in herself. Why had she put up with him for so long? Because she'd rather let some stranger subject her than be alone?

Then Derek's sweet words rang in her ears, and she found herself smiling uncontrollably. Sure, she'd seen his soft side before, and there had even been a few occasions in high school when he had come to her defense. But this side of Derek? It was like he had been keeping another layer of himself hidden for three years.

Casey shut off the water – she'd been squeaky clean for about ten minutes already – and stepped out of the shower. She wrapped a towel around her body and wiped some steam off the mirror so she could get a glimpse of herself. She hated looking at her reflection without any makeup on; all she could see was dark circles and blotchiness. She turned away from the mirror and once again, found herself listening at the door for Derek's presence.

She didn't hear any, but when she left the bathroom she spotted Derek's hockey bag by the front door. She connected the dots and realized he must've been at hockey practice all morning.

She took a deep breath and headed in the direction of her bedroom, silently cursing whoever designed the layout of her apartment. He was facing away from her. She briefly considered trying to tip-toe past him, but realized that doing so might make things even more awkward.

"Hey," she muttered, and he turned around.

"Hey."

"Sorry for-" she started, but he interrupted her.

"Being the drunkest girl in North America? Why would you apologize for that? It was hilarious! I can't wait to tell Nora!" he teased.

"Der-ek! You can't do that!"

"Relax, Space-Case. I was just messing with you."

His eyes flickered away from her own. She blushed, and he cleared his throat. It became painfully evident at that moment that she was in nothing but a towel, so she scurried into her bedroom.

xxx

That afternoon, the two of them fell back into their regular Saturday routine. Derek washed his hockey equipment while they vegged out in her living room, watch TV and bickering left and right to avoid talking about what had happened the previous night. Though, both found themselves occasionally reminding themselves that nothing had happened.

"So," he found himself saying at around 6pm. They were just finishing up their dinner and Casey was browsing through the TV Shows category on Netflix, looking for a new show for the two of them to marathon-watch. "The hockey team is throwing a party tonight."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"That sounds like fun," she said after a few moments, still scrolling through shows.

"They expect me to go, it's kind of part of being on the team," he explained.

"Oh."

"Yeah, so I should probably go."

"Okay."

"They'll give me hard time if I don't."

Finally, she turned to face him, and put on her best smile. "No worries, Derek. Honestly, you don't need to explain," she said. "I'll be sure to leave the door unlocked for you."

"Do you want to come?"

Her fake smile suddenly became a real one, and she hoped he didn't notice the difference.

"Sure," she finally said.

"Really?"

"Well, I don't think I'm going to be able to drink again…"

He laughed.

"…but yeah, I wouldn't mind getting out of the apartment."

"Cool," he said.

And then, as though on schedule, an awkward silence fell upon them.

She took a sip of her water.

He stared at his hands.

"I guess I'll go get ready," she said eventually.

"Good. You look like crap," he replied with a smirk.

(There was the Derek she knew and loved.)