AN: HAILEY. I'm finally done with your present! Let's not think of this as 'late,' but as a continuation in the celebration of your birth. ;) I'm kidding! I'm really sorry for how long it took me to write this! I didn't expect it to end up this long of a fic, but I kept getting ideas! I figured I have already made you a video, so I wanted to do something really special and write you this one-shot. I hope you like it! I'm so glad we've become friends. You add so much joy to my life. I love you, and I hope you had the most wonderful birthday ever!

Please review if you have the time!

They're sitting outside on a hot summer's day sipping lemonade and fanning themselves with anything they could find. (For her this means a piece of paper she strategically folded. For him this means the biggest leaf he could find on their oak tree in their backyard.)

She's reading a textbook and he's reading a magazine, and if this isn't the most bored he's been all summer…

He sighs heavily and flips the page to his magazine, all interest lost on its contents. He sees her glance up briefly, but she doesn't take the bait quite yet.

He sighs once again, even more dramatically than before.

"What, Derek?" Casey slams her textbook down and looks at him intently, her eyebrows furrowed in irritation.

"I'm bored out of my mind. Entertain me."

And this is how it beings.

Due to not knowing any other means of entertaining him besides subjecting herself to a series of inappropriate, awkward, or horrifying activities, his stepsister decides to try out something new.

A game. (Or, rather, a series of games as a result of needing to amuse him more than once. But let's not get ahead of ourselves.)

"'Would You Rather.'" she says matter-of-factly, and not only is he confused by the fact that she actually listened to him for the first time in her life, but also by her strange choice of words.

"Would I rather… what? Die of boredom here, or go inside and parish in the air conditioning?"

She rolls her eyes. "It's a game. I can't believe you've never heard of it… What, were you deprived as a child?"

"I'm going to assume that was a rhetorical question and, instead, ask you how to play this so-called game."

"I give you two almost ridiculous scenarios, and you have to choose between them."

It sounds completely lame and Casey-ish, but he decides to play along anyway. After all, he doesn't have anything better to do.

"Alright. You start then, since you're the expert."

She shakes her head but grins anyway, starting the first round of 'Would You Rather.'

"Would you rather eat a ton of pickles, or go bald publically?"

His jaw drops. "You would use my least favourite food and my best asset against me? That is beyond cruel, Casey McDonald." She leans over, smirking at him, and he is a bit appalled. He scowls, weighing his options. "Pickles." he says begrudgingly.

"I knew you wouldn't lose the hair!" She sits back in obvious satisfaction of making him squirm, taking a long sip of her lemonade. (He decides he doesn't like this game.) "Your turn."

He considers what sort of vindictive question he could possibly ask that might top Casey's…

"Would you rather publish your diary or make a movie on your most embarrassing moment?"

"Well, considering "Attack of the Klutzilla: When Stepsisters Strike" was pretty much publicized to everyone at SJST anyway…"

He doesn't even phase her! He huffs, upset with himself for letting Casey win. Casey can never win.

The game continues on as it did before. Casey continues to stump him while all he can do is ask her questions that don't seem to have any effect on her whatsoever. He needs to get personal if he wants to get under her skin.

And then it comes to him.

He takes a long, refreshing gulp of lemonade, and spits it out. "Would you rather… kiss me or go back out with Truman?"

She answers faster than he can even contemplate what he just said. "Kiss you."

"Are you… kidding? What?" he sputters, nearly choking on his drink.

"Think about it." Casey says rationally and calmly. "Going out with Truman would be a long and agonizing process in which I'm not willing to participate in again. Kissing you would be… quick and virtually painless."

"Virtually?"

"As in… 'nearly,' or 'practically?'"

"I know what it means! I'm asking what you mean by that. I just… don't see a downside." He leans back in his chair once again, feigning confidence, offering her a smirk.

"You would ridicule me for the rest of my life for ever kissing you. I would have to live with constant taunts of 'you know you liked it, Casey' and 'admit it, I am the best kisser ever,' not to mention the fact that you would probably make fun of my kissing skills."

He opens his mouth to protest, but she cuts him off.

"This was fun and all, but I should really get back to my studying." She stands up with her textbook tucked safely under her arm as she retreats to the indoors.

If she would have stayed a while longer, maybe he would have told her that he would never do that – that he would probably enjoy it way more than he should, and that she wouldn't have to worry about him teasing her because he'd be too busy trying to come up with more excuses for them to kiss.

Maybe.

They're at Queen's, and he's helping Casey move into Adelaide Hall, her infamous all-female residency.

"How much shit did you pack?" he asks, his language having acquired a whole new vivid set of vocabulary words ever since they left their parents and he stepped onto the college campus.

"We are going to be living here, you know!" Casey retorts, her voice muffled behind a stack of four pillows. "If you only packed one pair of underwear, don't come crying to me, Der!"

"As if." he says under his breath. "But, seriously, I think you brought your entire closet and the gay guy that was hiding in there. This is so heavy!"

"You are such a wimp! Man up, Venturi! You're building character. And muscle. God knows you could use a good workout."

"Yeah, and so could you, but, meanwhile, I'm stuck carrying your life's belongings while you have a few measly pillows."

Casey suddenly stops and he almost drops everything in his hands. "We're here. Now quit your whining."

She miraculously manages to extract a hand out from under the pillows and knock on the door whilst balancing them with her other hand.

Immediately they are greeted by two very perky, very blonde, and very fake-looking girls who let out a shriek unlike any he's ever heard. "Oh my god, you must by Casey!" The taller one wraps his stepsister in what looks like a bone-crushing hug, causing Casey's pillows to fall to the ground. (The dirty, germ-ridden ground. Oh man, she is going to freak!)

The taller girl steps back and allows the other roommate to hug Casey as well. They drag her inside their room and he awkwardly follows.

"Oh geez, sorry for being so rude! Who's this?" the tall one asks as he places Casey's bags on the floor.

"I'm her s-"

"He's my friend, Derek." Casey interrupts him, putting a hand on his arm. He quirks his eyebrows at her. She raises hers back at him. "Do you mind getting my pillows from the hallway, Der?"

"Not at all, bestie!" he says enthusiastically. He can feel her glare on his back as he marches away to fetch her crap.

When he comes back, Casey has already unzipped one of her bags and is starting to unload its contents onto what he assumes must be her bed. He dumps her pillows next to her and watches the blondes in the room whisper spiritedly to each other.

He doesn't know what shallow sort of beasts Casey has acquired for roommates, but he has a feeling he's going to find out when they hungrily grab her high school yearbook from her duffle bag and place it on the floor in front of them.

He watches as Casey's face grows distressed, her unpacking schedule having been rudely interrupted by Thing 1 and Thing 2. She crouches down next to her roommates in an obvious attempt to get on their level in both a literal and figurative sense. "What are we doing?"

"We go through the yearbook and choose between the two closest guys." Thing 1 explains animatedly to his stepsister. "We'll take turns. It'll be so much fun! We used to do this all of the time in high school."

He almost laughs at Casey's desperate attempt to feign excitement. He's about to leave her to her devises when Thing 2 shouts out, "come on, Darrell! Join us!"

"Derek." Casey corrects for him. "And he doesn't need to stay. He was just leaving, actually."

He knows damn well that was a hint for him to get out of there, so, naturally, he walks over to her and takes a seat on the floor.

"You know what, Case? I just realized I don't have to be moved in until later, so I think I'm going to stay."

His stepsister glowers at him when he pats her knee. Ah, nothing like a rousing game of Piss-Casey-Off to start the day!

"Awesome!" Thing 2 giggles, swinging her long hair over her shoulder as she opens the yearbook and places it in front of the four of them. She hastily flips through the pages until she finds grade twelve. "Okay! Marissa, you can go first. It's between Alex Abingdon and Oscar Armadi."

He was right when he guessed that the game would be shallow. In fact, it reminds him a bit of Truman rating girls, to be honest. He sits back and idly points a finger at the girl he finds more attractive as the game goes on. (Mostly he just points to the blondes.) Casey gets ridiculed several times for choosing the 'fugly' guys, but, knowing most of the guys at SJST High, she tends to make choices based on personality rather than looks alone.

Of course, since there are no other guys around to take turns (he's starting to regret staying; even annoying Casey can't be worth this), and because McDonald sits alphabetically next to Mcallister, he must make the choice between his stepsister and Tracy, a petite blonde with perfect teeth but a horrible reputation.

He sighs and bends over the yearbook, contemplating his choice. Marissa and Thing 2 (he still hasn't bothered to learn her name) are cackling like hyenas as he looks back and forth between the two girls on the page, his heart pounding way faster than it should. In his peripheral vision he can see Casey waiting for his decision with bated breath.

He rolls his eyes and points to Casey's picture nonchalantly. Her roommates squeal as if this is the most scandalous choice in the world. Casey's cheeks grow red.

"Is there, like, a… thing going on between you two?" Marissa asks curiously, her hot pink nails clinging to an even hotter pink pillow as she waits for an answer in eagerness.

Casey opens her mouth, but she never gets the chance to speak.

"No, there isn't, like, a thing." he says, and it comes out ruder than he anticipated. Even Marissa, in all of her Barbie-doll happiness and oblivion notices, her obnoxious smile turning into a pouty frown.

He looks at Casey then, the mundane game ruined by his honest yet revealing choice. Casey could vouch for him and explain that he merely chose her because Tracy is a tramp who bears more STDs than she'd be able to count on one hand. But instead she drops her gaze to the floor, refusing to look at him, her cheeks still incredibly pink.

"I should probably leave now." He stands up and trudges out of the room without a second glance.

If he would have stayed a while longer, he would have gotten an explanation for her not wanting the people at their university to know they were stepsiblings. Perhaps he would have seen that, in the 33.33% likelihood that Casey would have to choose between him and another alumnus of SJST High, she would have chosen him.

No matter whom that other alumnus was.

"It's called 'The Nervous Game!'"

They're sitting in his dorm room, and, hell, he doesn't even know why Casey is there. For some strange reason, they've found themselves in the same circle of friends, like some magnetic pull holds them together. He can't get rid of her. (He's actually not too upset about this.)

His roommate, Ned, turns out to be a short, stocky business major who looks more like he belongs on the Jersey Shore than a university in Canada. His personality is also less than desirable. Let's just say that when he and Ned are in the same room, he seems like a cross between Sophocles and a southern gentleman.

Right now, Ned, Casey, Casey's friend Ella, Ned's girl-of-the-week Natalie, and he are in the room. It's about three weeks into the first semester; they haven't been loaded up with an extraneous amount of work yet, and all of the excitement of orientations and club activities has died down. Therefore, they are incredibly bored and unable to find anything to do when Ned suggests this 'game' of his.

"What on earth is The Nervous Game?"

"It's where one person puts their hand on different parts of another person's body starting at their foot and moving up the rest of their body asking "are you nervous?". You stop when the other person says yes." Ned seems way too into this.

"What are we, twelve?"

"Shit, dude. I'm bored. Do you see anything else to do?" He glances over at the girls in the room and whispers under his breath, "plus it gives us an excuse to cop a feel without any consequences!"

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever." There really isn't anything else to do.

Ned claps his hands together in delight. "Alright! You girls up for it?"

Natalie is the first one to agree, and then the two other girls reluctantly join in, agreeing to and understanding the rules that Ned lays out for them.

"How are we supposed to decide who gets to touch whom?" Ella says, her freckled face turning a brilliant shade of red.

"Damn, El. You're nervous already!" Ned guffaws. "We'll draw names out of a hat, okay?"

He should say no. He should know by now that, with his luck, things can only end up terribly. But, instead, he writes his name on a strip of paper and tosses it into Ned's Devils cap along with the rest of the people in the room.

Ned draws Ella's name. Ella draws Natalie's name. Natalie draws Ned's name. Casey draws his name.

Of course. He ends up with Casey's name. And since he was the last one to draw from the hat, he's the first one to start the game. Perfect.

"Let's get started, shall we?" Ned grins widely, looking onward as if Casey and he are an act at the circus."

He sighs and reaches for Casey's ankle, his heart starting to pound in his chest already as soon as his skin makes contact with hers.

"Are you nervous now?" he asks uncertainly.

"That's my ankle." she says, her lips pursed. "Why would I be nervous?"

He rolls his eyes. Oh boy. "It's supposed to be 'yes' or 'no.' You don't have to give a philosophical reason as to why you may or may not be nervous. That deters from the point of the game."

"Which is…?"

"To make the touch-ee, aka you, uneasy."

"And I can't interject with statements of how I might be feeling?"

"Uh… no."

Ned lets out a groan. "Come on, you two! Get on with it, or no one else will even get a turn!"

"Alright, alright!" He holds his hand up in defense and then moves one of them to Casey's calf. "Are you nervous now?"

"I don't think… No."

"How about now?" He slides his hand up to her knee, and she looks at him with a blank expression on her face.

"No." she says resolutely.

"Now?" His hand rests on her thigh, and he sees something flash in her eyes before she answers.

"No."

He can't bring himself to violate her… you know… so he goes for the stomach instead, brushing his fingers over her waist. "Now?" He secretly hopes she'll say yes, because this is getting way too personal for his taste, and he doesn't want to be reprimanded for sexual harassment. Even though Casey clearly agreed to the rules of this game, she can get touchy (no pun intended) when it comes to these sorts of things.

"No." Damn it.

"Now?" he asks, his hands resting just below her breasts. She gives an involuntary shiver, and he thinks that should be enough to stop the game, but she holds her head high.

And once again he hears a determined "no" leave his stepsister's lips. What the hell, Case? Is she trying to make a point? If so, what might that point be? That she's not as much of a prude as he thinks she is? Okay, he gets it. She can stop now.

"She said 'no!' Come on, Derek!" He makes a mental note to throttle Ned in his sleep.

He sighs, letting the gravity of the moment seep in, and then he does the unthinkable. He lifts his hands up to cover Casey's breasts.

She just sort of stares at him, wide-eyed for a moment, and he swears to god she leans into his touch, closing her eyes for a brief second before he chokes out "now?"

"Yes." she breaths out, and he drops his hands to his sides quicker than you can say 'nervous.'

The scary thing is, he liked that. A lot. She was soft and warm and round and close – so close to him.

"Well, that was intense." Ned chuckles. "Now it's your turn, Casey."

"You mean… I have to do that to Derek?" she points to him, her lips quivering a bit.

"Yeah, you drew his name out of the hat, didn't you?"

Casey bites her lip and quickly makes for her purse. "Actually, I just remembered that I have a test to study for. I'm sorry. I have to go."

Ned makes an frustrated noise. "Oh, come on! Don't wimp out! Derek didn't even get-"

"Dude, let her be!" He silences his roommate and Casey gives him a grateful look. "She doesn't have to do anything that she doesn't want to." Frankly, he's relieved that she's leaving.

She dips out of the room without another word, and he excuses himself from the game. If Casey would have stayed a while longer and actually played, she would have seen that he would have folded his cards the minute she would have touched him.

Even if it was just his ankle.

He's sipping a beer at some party he was invited to by the hockey team when Casey walks in on her most recent crush's arm. (Todd, Tom, Tim? Hell if he knows.) Casey's roommates, who were already there, stare at him in anticipation, wondering what his reaction might be to this other guy with Casey. Lately they've been inseparable, but ToddTomTim put a riff in their relationship. Why? Because he never approves of the guys she dates.

"Are you going to be okay?" Dee (he finally figured out the other roommate's name) touches his arm in distress. He realizes he's squeezing his beer can a little too tightly, the veins in his hand popping out. He takes one last sip and crushes the can completely.

"I'll be just fine." He breaks away from Dee and sits on the nearest couch, suddenly turned off of dancing, socializing, or anything, really. He takes out his phone and distracts himself by texting Sam.

Half an hour later, Casey, ToddTomTim, Marissa, Dee, Ned, and Ella all sit down around him. ToddTomTime slings an arm around Casey and she giggles; he feels the urge to punch a wall.

"'Have You Ever!'" Ned shouts, throwing his hands in the air, his words slurred. Shit. Not another game.

Everyone holds their hands up except for him, and Ned hits his leg. "Come on, Derek! Don't be a party pooper! We're playing!" He almost ops out, but then realizes this is a good opportunity for him to learn more secrets about Casey and keep a watchful eye on her date. He unenthusiastically puts up his hands. The rest of the group cheers.

"I'll start!" Ned says. "Have you ever dated two people at the same time?"

Ned, Dee, and ToddTomTim put down a finger. Oh, he does not like this guy. Not at all. He shoots daggers at Casey's date with his eyes.

"Oooh, ooh, me!" Dee shouts, clearly hyped up on alcohol. Actually, he's pretty sure most of the group has had more than their fair share of drinks tonight. Why else would they be playing this stupid game? "Have you ever really embarrassed yourself in front of someone you like?"

The majority of the group puts a finger down, including him.

Casey volunteers to go next. "Have you ever…" She looks over and him and breaks into a fit of giggles. He stares at her, realization slowly dawning on him. "Have you ever really wanted to be Derek's girlfriend?" She can't stop laughing as she puts one of her fingers down, and he stands up, giving ToddTomTim a threatening look.

"Did you let her drink?" His fist curls into a ball, and he steps towards them. "You're supposed to be looking out for her! Nice going, Tim!"

"How was I supposed to know that the punch was spiked? And my name is Tye!"

"You should have guessed once you started sipping it! She's never had a drink before in her life! Come on, Case, let's get out of here." He offers his hand to his drunken stepsister, but Tye gets in his way.

"Back off, man. She's my date!"

"Well you sort of lost that privilege once you let her get smashed." He forcefully shoves Tye away from him and helps Casey stand up. A few of the girls shriek as Tye stumbles and ends up on the floor.

"Take it easy!" Ned shouts, but he just trudges over Tye on his way out of the building, one arm slung around Casey's waist to support her. She passes out as soon as they get to his dorm.

If they would have stayed a while longer, he probably would have picked a real fight with Tye, considering he started making out with Dee the moment they left; she takes sympathy on him after he falls down.

Luckily for Casey and him, they got out of there before it really turned wild.

He wakes up to the sound of her puking her guts out in his bathroom.

He gets up, rubs his eyes, and hurries to get her a glass of water. He never expected to find a hungover Casey McDonald hovering over a toilet in his dorm. Actually, he never expected to find a hungover Casey McDonald at all.

She rests her head on the cool ivory. He pushes her hair out of her face and strokes her back soothingly.

"Open up, numskull."

She looks up at him with half-lidded eyes. "How are you taking care of me? You're Derek."

"Yes, I am Derek, which means I'm probably doing this wrong because it's physically and mentally impossible for me to take care of another human being."

She takes the water from him anyway, downing it and sloshing a bit on her shirt.

"How are you feeling?" he asks her, though he knows she can't be anywhere near pleasant.

"You know that feeling like you're going to retch up the entire contents of your stomach and all of your internal organs? Yeah, that's what it felt like."

He laughs at her gruesome description. "Wow. That was graphic. Thanks for the visual."

"Wait, why am I in your dorm anyway?" She points at him reproachfully, her eyes narrowing. "You didn't try to-"

He lets out an exasperated breath. "Cute. I saved your ass and you decide to accuse me of sexual harassment."

"Saved my… ass from what, exactly?"

"Um, the potential threat of serious sexual harassment. If I hadn't have dragged you out of that party, you could be in a cheap motel room right now, waking up in a pile of your own vomit."

"And you thought I was being graphic?"

"Now is no time to joke, Spacey. Date rape is a serious matter."

"Oh, please." She starts to get up unsteadily. He grabs under her arm and helps her. "There were no rapists at that party."

"How do you know?" They begin to move out of the bathroom and towards his bed. "They just don't go around wearing signs that say 'Avoid me; I've been known to spike drinks with ecstasy.'"

"Really, Derek? I think I can watch out for myself, thanks." She wiggles out of his reach and totters towards the bed.

"Yeah, alright. When Chris Hansen goes searching for your remains, I'll be sure to note that."

"What's your deal, anyway?"

"Oh, you know. I thought I was doing you a favour, but apparently my act of kindness isn't appreciated." He crosses his arms, deciding he doesn't like grumpy, hungover Casey.

"Are you going to pout about it? I'm just saying, I'm a mature adult. I'm sure I could have figured out the situation on my own."

"Okay, mature Casey, then tell me this – did you plan on getting drunk in the first place?"

"I - That's not fair. I didn't know the punch had alcohol in it."

"Did you have a designated driver just in case?"

"I – There-"

"Do you remember anything from last night?"

"No, but-"

"I think I proved my point."

"What do you want?" she loudly sputters out, her arms flopping to her sides.

"Excuse me?" He honestly has no idea what she's talking about.

"A word of gratitude? A thanks?" she continues to rant on without listening to him. "Thank you, then. Thank you for taking me back to your room and not letting me throw up all over myself. Thank you for letting me have your bed while you took the couch."

"I-"

"Or am I forever in your debt now that you've managed to do one favour for me?"

"I never-" He stops, and a light bulb seems to go off in his head, a smirk spreading on his face. "Actually, yeah. Yes. You are."

"Oh, good god. Well, go on then. Name your price."

He thinks for a moment, but it doesn't take him long to come up with something. Ever since that little game of 'Have You Ever' last night, he's been curious… "Truth or dare?"

"Pardon?"

"My price, dearest, is a rousing game of truth or dare." he says sarcastically.

She just stares at him. "Truth… or dare?"

"You know, getting drunk doesn't render you deaf, so I would suggest you stop asking questions and start choosing."

"Well, I do have this vexing headache, so I wasn't sure if I heard you correctly."

"Nice excuse. Excedrin is in the top drawer of my dresser there." He waits for her to pop the pills in her mouth before speaking again. "Now… pick your poison."

"Truth."

He chuckles. "Ah, I assumed you would choose the safe option."

"Truth isn't always all that safe." She crosses her arms, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Uh huh, Keeny. Good one."

"Spilling your deepest, darkest secrets is safe?" He gives her a disapproving look. "Fine, then. I change my mind! Dare!"

"Too late. The verdict has already been reached. What is the last thing you remember from the party last night?"

She looks down at the ground, biting her lip and concentrating. He waits with bated breath for her answer. "We were playing 'Have You Ever.'"

He pauses and expects her to go on, but she doesn't. "That's it?"

"That's all I can remember!"

He sighs, taking a seat next to her on the bed, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Your turn."

"You mean… I get to do you?"

The question comes out innocently enough, but a lump forms in his throat nonetheless. Wow, his mind is in the gutter. "Uh, yeah. Go for it."

"Truth or dare? And try not to go for the obvious."

He knows she thinks he's a 'dare' type of guy… "Truth, then, I suppose."

"Who was the last person you had a hot dream about?"

"W-what?" Okay, that question was definitely not innocent.

"You heard me."

He gulps. "I can't answer that."

"Oh, come on!" She slaps his leg, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. "I answered your question! It's only fair."

"Fine. Last night I had a dream about this girl at the party. I didn't even know her." It's not a complete lie. It's just a… clever avoidance. Truthfully, he had a rather explicit dream about her last night, but it was about drunk Casey who was acting very unlike herself. I didn't even know her. He shakes the thought from his mind. "Happy?"

"I guess."

"You guess?"

"Well, that was a rather boring answer."

"Excuse me for not wanting to explain my sexual fantasies to you in detail. Now can we move on?"

She looks away from him. "As you wish. Dare."

Ah, now this is more his forte. It takes him less than a second to think of something. "Skip class today."

He can almost hear her heart beating in her chest at his challenge. "Oh. No. I couldn't."

"You could. It's not a matter of whether you can or can't. It's a matter of guts."

"Fine." And once again, she surprises him. College Casey is a little terrifying.

"Fine…" he repeats, still finding it hard to believe that she's actually going to miss class on purpose.

"Truth or dare?" In his alarm he almost forgets that it's her turn.

"Dare."

Her gaze meets his once again, her words come out in an almost-whisper, an almost plea. "Kiss me."

What the hell? His mind starts racing; his heart starts pounding; his palms start sweating. He did not expect that. Never in his wildest dreams… Drunk Casey. Hungover Casey. College Casey. Kiss me Casey.

"Casey…"

"I'm serious. I admit, I'm a little curious and I want to know what all the hype is about. Are you really the best kisser ever?"

"It is a well-known fact." The initial shock is over and he's back to his sarcastic self.

"Get on with it, then." Who is this person that has taken over his stepsister's body?

"No way." he says firmly.

"Why not?" She seems sort of angry with him.

"Because a) I'm seriously starting to question whether or not you're still drunk or not. I mean, really? Would a sober Casey ever dare me to do that? And b) you just threw up, and, contrary to popular belief, I actually do have some sort of standard when it comes to hygiene and the girls I make out with."

"I never said you had to make out with me. I only said kiss. And I'll brush my teeth if you're really that uncomfortable."

"Oh-so-tempting offer, but the answer is still no."

"It wasn't a question." she says softly, staring at the ground once again, her eyes starting to gloss over with tears. Shit.

"Casey, you can't be serious."

"Are you afraid it will turn into something more?" A tear trickles down her cheek.

"No." he says gently, trying to reason with her, trying to make her see that she is being ridiculous. "I'm afraid that all of that alcohol went straight to your brain and you're suffering from fits of delusion."

"I'm perfectly sober!" she yells, and now he knows she's mad.

"Get out."

"Get out?" Furious.

"Go to class. I don't care about the dare anymore." He can't look her in the eye.

"What's your problem!"

"I already told you! Your stinky breath! …And lack of rationality at the present moment."

She pushes herself off of the bed and storms over to her jacket draped on his desk chair. She's halfway out the door when she turns around and glares at him. "Fine, I'll make you a deal."

He can't help the next few words that spill from his lips. "What sort of deal?"

"I'll go to class today and skip tomorrow instead. Tomorrow I'll be all sobered up, right? Even though I insist I'm perfectly level-headed right now, but for your benefit, you'll know for a fact that I'm not drunk anymore."

"And…?"

"And, when I'm thinking 'sensibly' and if I still dare you to kiss me, you'll do it."

It sounds reasonable. Once she's not under the influence she'll come to her senses and never think about kissing him or skipping class again, so he says, "deal."

"Deal. Well, goodbye. I have calculus in less than an hour." She hurries away but comes back and pokes her head around the corner. What now? "I forgot to say… thanks."

He blinks. "You're… welcome."

If Casey would have stayed a while longer, she would have seen him rush to the bathroom and throw up all the contents of his stomach, though he would not be quite sure why.

He only had one beer.

He's reading about the history of film, nodding off in his desk chair as he stares at the pages of his book without soaking in anything. That's when Casey stomps in and he nearly flies out of his chair as she slams the door behind her.

She spins him around, sits on his bed, and says breathlessly, "kiss me."

"Wha-"

"I'm sober, my teeth are brushed, and I'm ready."

He didn't think she would come back. He didn't think she'd want to kiss him. He is not ready.

He can only squeak out one word. "No."

"No?" She looks crestfallen immediately. "But it's a dare. You have to take your end of the-"

"No, Casey." It's then that he finally cracks, his voice getting louder and louder with every word. "I don't want to kiss you on a dare. I'm tired of trying to force secrets out of you and you trying to force secrets out of me. I'm tired of games! I'm tired of not knowing when things are real!"

Casey's mouth is agape as he talks, but he can't seem to stop and give her a chance to say anything.

He takes in a deep breath and lets it all out. "I like you, okay? I really, really like you – in all of your craziness and neurotics and keenerness. I want to kiss you because I want to, not because I'm dared to. I want to touch you on my own accord, not because we're playing some stupid middle-school game. I want you to tell me secrets and stories because you can depend on me, not because you have to."

He is almost hyperventilating at this point in time, having spewed his confession out without any visible sign from his stepsister that she might feel the same way as him. She's still starting at him with an expression of awe on her face.

"So… whatever you want to do with that information… I mean-"

He never gets a chance to finish as she takes his face in her hands and presses her lips to his. He isn't sure what to do at first; he can hardly believe this is really happening. But before she can pull away because he's not reacting, her action finally registers in his brain and he's scooting closer to her, deepening their kiss.

It's not the most perfect kiss in the world. It's sloppy and a little too eager and a lot too quick. But it's real, and he loves every moment of it, loves her taste and the way she puts in every emotion she's feeling for him.

They finally break away. "That was because I like you too." she says, smiling and pressing her forehead to his. "No more games. Just us."

If you would have stayed a while longer, you would have seen a proposition of two people becoming boyfriend and girlfriend, a countless amount of kisses in the next few semesters (and beyond), and a plethora of overnight stays resulting in a shared apartment for the new school year.

There may have even been a couple of 'I love you's and 'I do's along the way.

(But let's not get ahead of ourselves.)