Well, hell, I finally wrote something I'm semi-happy with. The wonders of reading the Twilight series and an interview with JK Rowling, and watching The Other Boleyn Girl…
My One-Shot Entry To Lolly's March Contest: "What If…?":
The 'What If?': What if Bryce had been available for that Saturday date?
Presenting: Not Your Type
[Because I couldn't think of anything original
Happy Reading.
Doree
- Monday Morning -
"You didn't. You know, all of that is completely unnecessary," I mumbled through gritted teeth as he approached me at the rectory bench besides Jesse's grave.
His grin broadened and his gloriously straight white dentures glistened in the morning sun. "Yeah, I know, but I wanted to do it."
He handed me the sun-yellow bouquet of sunflowers, and pecked me lightly on the lips before he straddled the bench facing me. I smiled at him briefly, leafing through the soft petals of one of the flowers as I looked down at them, thinking.
"You don't like them." It wasn't a question; he had mistaken my confusion for dislike.
I glanced back up into his face, rearranging my bemused expression to a warm one, and chuckled, "It's not that I don't like them, it's just…what's the occasion?" It was his turn to narrow his eyebrows and look at me as if I had acquired another head. "Well, I know that it's our one-year anniversary, but do we really need to celebrate it? I mean, I feel bad. I didn't even get you anything."
Not that I knew I had to. I didn't actually think people celebrated month and year anniversaries. I actually found it sort of ridiculous and childish, so naturally, I didn't think to get him present. Of course, I didn't tell him that's why he didn't get anything. I just settled for the ever popular, 'I didn't know what to get you'.
"No, its fine. I know you're not really into the mushy stuff. I only got you those," he pointed at the yellows in my hand, "to see your reaction."
I swatted his arm playfully. "Jerk."
"But, you did give me something. Two things, in fact." He continued, ignoring my comment though the corners of his lips had twitched. Seeing my raised eyebrow in perplexity, he went on. "You gave me you. You gave me my life." He looked up at the sky on the last word. I followed his gaze up until I felt his hand cup my chin, bringing my attention back down to his gorgeous irises. "Had you not moved here from New York last year, I wouldn't be sitting in this very spot with you; I wouldn't have been able to take you out for burgers at BJ's that Saturday." His laughter made my heart race and my gaze zone in on his soft, pink lips.
"It was no problem," I whispered, not three inches from his face. Before my head got any lighter, he closed in the gap between us, dizzying me with the sweet smell of his cologne. We didn't resurface until we heard a familiar voice call out my name, and all too soon, the kiss ended.
"That's our cue." My boyfriend chuckled softly, resting his forehead against mine.
I turned towards the courtyard, the direction in which the voice had come, slightly irritated with her interruption. "Hello, CeeCee."
Her large light blue umbrella obscured her features in shadow, protecting her milky white albino skin from the unforgiving sun. Her plum eyes glistened with wisdom (and maybe disapproval) and her white hair framed her face beautifully despite the wispy breeze.
"Do you guys think that you could keep yourselves under control for a few hours to attempt to obtain an education? Suze?" She raised a transparent eyebrow.
"I'll try."
"Bryce?"
Bryce had been trying to fight a smile since CeeCee arrived. He failed miserably. "I suppose I could…for a few hours." He then hoisted himself off of the bench, pausing only to hold out a hand to help me up as well. When I straightened up, Bryce smoothed a gentle hand over my hair and down to my neck.
"I'll see you at lunch." He murmured, and with a final kiss on top of my head he headed into the corridor now full of bustling students.
CeeCee looped her arm through mine, bringing me into the cool of her shelter. She took one glance at my garland of daises, and made to open her mouth.
"Say nothing." I said before she could utter a single syllable.
- -
On my way to class I had to literally fight my way through small groups of girls squealing and prattling on about some new kid.
"-I mean, have you seen him?"
"Do you know if he's single - ? "
"- could have sworn he was in last month's cover of – "
"- so hott!"
"- looks rich!"
"I hope he asks me to the dance this – "
"-Slater!"
"Excuse me," I growled to a particular group crowding around the door of my first period history class. When they continued to converse I took the initiative to make my own way and open the door.
I didn't miss the curious stares following me into the room as I stalked passed the teacher's desk and the two people standing next it to my seat near the far end of the classroom. Embarrassed, I tried hiding the flowers behind my back until I made it into comfort of my chair. I rested the flowers in my lap as I pulled out my necessary supplies for the hour and started on my bell work. A few minutes in, I heard hushed whispers of awe and envy coming from all sides.
The chatting didn't stop until class officially started with Mr. Walden at the black board. After a good while, I peeked over the scribbling in my notebook to get an idea as to where we were in the notes when a pair of glacial, blue eyes belonging to a 17 year old male-hottie sitting directly in front of me with gorgeous golden-brown hair, had locked with my jade.
He was just…staring. And it wasn't a creepy gawk, either. It was one of those, "yeah-I'm-starin'" stares. You know the kind.
I momentarily forgot where I was, let alone my purpose for looking up in the first place. But then, Mr. Walden's booming voice brought me out of my hypnosis. I blinked profusely, shaking my head slightly for extra measure and moved to try to see around the new guy's captivating baby-blues.
I was successful…too bad I couldn't concentrate on them.
He was the reason I had to practically throw down with every female in the hallways, I thought. Not that I blame them. Don't look at him! I have a boyfriend…a good one, too. Yeah, and I'll bet he's –
"Excuse me," the boy said quietly, leaning in close so that only I could hear him as he beamed. He didn't say it like I did an hour and a half ago, all rude and impatiently. He said it…politely, I guess the tone was. "Could you tell me where I might find room 506?"
Charming…a gentleman, too? And I had him pegged for a pig. Pity…"Uh, it's just down north-side; turn to your right if you're coming out this room. Just follow the hall," I stammered, thanking God that he couldn't read minds.
"Thanks," he laughed heartedly, his eyes dancing with an amusement that only made my heart beat faster, making me feel more and more self-conscious with each chuckle.
I gave him a single nod for a response and was grateful for the chance to turn my attention back to my notes. Then, without meaning to, I glanced back up – and blushed furiously; he was still staring, though he now had a cocky, crooked smile and a smoldering look of intensity.
"I'm Paul Slater, by the way," he said as he held out a beautifully tanned hand of which I took out of politeness, hesitating for only a millisecond. When our fingers met a quiet, but opaque bolt of electricity shot through my arm. I pulled it back as soon as it happened. His blue flames danced even more enthusiastically once our connection had ended.
"Class dismissed." A boisterous tone sounded, startling me out of our eye-lock. I hastily shoved my things into my backpack, embarrassed that I had withdrawn so quickly from sparks that even he had to have known were between us. I stuck my pen into a pocket in my bag, took up the flowers from my lap, and practically ran out of the room.
Yet, it still wasn't fast enough.
"So, I didn't quite catch your name back there, you left so quickly." Paul Slater prompted as a-matter-of-factly, as he walked gracefully beside me.
"I didn't give it." I said with a hint of flippancy. I was still kind of red in the face, but determined to maintain some confidence, though, the statement had come out a bit more flirty than I'd meant it to. He didn't seem to mind all of the inflictions in my voice.
"Well, that figures;" he shook his head in mock disappointment, his curly hair tickling parts of his visage. "The first person I officially meet doesn't even want to give me her name. I'm depressed."
The corners of my mouth twitched upward a little, but not enough to grow into a smile. "You're going the wrong way, you know," I forced myself to look up into his six-foot-something stature, and he raised a delicate brown eyebrow in response. "Room 506 is on the north-side. This hallway is headed west."
"I never said I had the class. I merely asked you where I could find five-oh-six."
The little confidence I had shattered completely, all defenses down, and I turned beat-red again only this time, a little more rapidly.
Never in my sixteen years of living had a guy (let alone a hot one) willingly go out of his way to speak to me. Not even Bryce. I mean, I basically had to save him from a "ghost-provoked" falling wooden beam that would have crushed the pair of us last year for him to utter a single word to me, which technically wasn't even to me; it was to God. I know this because he had called God's name at least three times prior to asking me if I was okay.
After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence (well, for me, anyway) I had fully cleared the egg off of my face, and opened my mouth to ask if he planned on following me all day.
By then we had gotten to my locker, so he had decided to make himself comfortable and at home by leaning coolly against one right next to mine, and smirking smugly. Passer-bys (mostly girls) gawked, stared, and even paused to point and gossip. Paul took no notice of this phenomenon. "Well, as long as it takes for me to get your name, anyway."
I avoided his gaze and everyone else's by getting an eye-full of his attire which happened to look impeccably expensive, though I had a feeling that these were his cheaper threads. He wore a black and metallic Henleys Garstang t-shirt, original G Star Lumber Jeans coupled with Azor Teddy Shoes, this look pulled together with a rich gorgeous black blazer labeled with a brand I couldn't even pronounce. The icing on top of the 'rockstar' cake: silver Ray-Bans glistening from the front of his pocket.
Paul Slater was fashionable, tanned, mature, gorgeous, tall, and – and he was definitely out of my league. Kelly Prescott might even be SOL with this one, I thought darkly. He was obviously intelligent. She wouldn't be able to dumb him down enough for him to actually choose to ask her out…
" – and you're smiling a little, too, so I guess that's a good sign." Paul's deep voice brought me back from my thought process, making me realize that he had been talking to me.
"I'm sorry; I missed that whole thing completely. What did you say?" I felt blood and heat rising to my cheeks and neck as the words tumbled out.
Then he started to laugh. And I mean really laugh. This did nothing for my already damaged self esteem.
"The new guy just asked out one of the most beautiful girls he's seen since he's been out here, and she didn't even hold enough interest in him to hear him out."
My jaw fell completely open, a 'popping' sound coming from my lips as it dropped. How could I have missed that? "What? You mean, like, o-on a date?"
He smirked, shrugging nonchalantly as if it were no big deal. "Well, yeah. I drove by a place the other day called The Grill that looked pretty flickin'."
Flickin'. Huh.
I stared at him wordlessly, and then shook my head a bit to clear it from all the protests and questions now popping up. "Wha - no! Well, what I mean is – I…I can't."
He looked a little less smug then, and an emotion that I couldn't quite place flashed briefly across his handsome face. "You can't, or you won't?"
"Both," I sighed, exasperatingly, almost wishing that I could take him up on his offer. "I already have a boyfriend. Today is actually our first-year anniversary – "
He smiled tight-lipped, closing his eyes as he nodded now fully understanding. "Ah. The boyfriend; of course. You know, I would never have bet that you would be the type of girl to celebrate first-year anniversaries, but I'm actually sort of relieved to hear that answer…that you have a boyfriend…"
I didn't know what to say to that other than to ask one of the questions that had been buzzing through my head after he had asked me out. "I'm just curious as to how you would have addressed me on our outing had I accepted."
"I'd have gotten your name from you eventually, or a friend of yours…either that or I would have had to resort to impressively frank apostrophes and ambiguities."
A slow smile erupted across my face. "You wouldn't have."
"Well, you'll never know, now." He shrugged again.
I wasn't about to tell him my name while I had the upper hand, but he was just too…charming. "It's Suze," I said confidently.
"What is?" Paul asked, a beautiful grin now spreading across his face.
"My name. It's derived from 'Susannah'."
"Suze," he said casually trying it out and I, liking the way my name sounded in his voice, shivered. "It's finally nice to meet you." He held out the same tanned hand for me to shake, and ignoring the surges of energy that again flowed through our hold, I took his hand.
Because it was. Nice to meet him, I mean.
- That Friday -
"I don't want to talk about it anymore! Just drop it." I half yelled, trying to monitor my voice for the sake of my clueless family.
He snapped the book he was reading shut and stood up. "Susannah, I will not 'just drop it'. If you are hurt at any time during the duration of this school dance – "
"Jesse, Heather will not be there. Bryce and I will be fine." I growled through gritted teeth.
"And how can you know that for sure?"
We had volleyed our opinions back and forth for a whole two weeks about the topic at hand, each too hard-headed to give up their rebuttal. Jesse would try to convince me to stay away from Bryce who happened to be a huge target for an offending bitch-banshee who wanted him dead, and I would tell him where to shove it. Yes, he was my friend, and he had been a huge part in trying to help me rid Heather the first few times, but I wasn't about to let him run my life for me. I would take care of this situation my way.
"She will kill the two of you. I have little faith in knowing that should you get hurt, your ignorant novio will know what to do in such a situation." Jesse continued angrily as me made my mirror shake a little.
"Jesse, you are dead! My getting injured and what I decide is of no concern to a ghost, of all things!" I shouted now hot with fury at him for criticizing my boyfriend.
The mirror stopped shaking abruptly as waves of shocked silence at what I just said crashed over us. My own blood ran cold from my word vomit.
"I beg to differ." He said quietly, eyeing me with sadness and concern.
His reaction to my shouting almost broke my heart, I felt so bad. I knew I shouldn't have said it, but what else could I have said?
"I'm going to be late," I sighed after a moment. "I won't let Heather touch me, or Bryce. Don't worry about it."
I turned towards the door and wrenched it open, but paused when Jesse spoke again.
"Susannah?" he said, sounding torn. I didn't turn to face him, although I probably should have out of respect for him. "You look beautiful, querida. Just be careful."
I let out the breath that I hadn't even known I was holding, mumbled an inaudible 'thanks,' and left without looking back, lightly closing the door behind me.
"Suze?"
I blinked a few times, clearing out the conversation I had with Jesse just before Bryce picked me up from my house. We were still swaying to the same song we'd been dancing to before I lapsed into my revere.
My date lifted my chin up with his index finger to meet his amused gaze. "Am I that boring to you?"
"Yes, as always," I joked.
"What are you thinking?" Bryce asked softly.
I considered telling him a fraction of the truth; that I had fought with one of my best friends, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to tell him that we had fought over him. I was just contemplating this issue when I felt fists on my waist rather than his gentle palms.
"What, what's wrong?" I inquired sharply, narrowing my eyes in search for anything out of the ordinary. Falling rectory beams, a flying Junipero Serra head…Heather…
"Slater." He mumbled darkly. I relaxed somewhat, but a new emotion had filled me completely. "I hate the way he looks at you."
Although I had turned him down, Paul Slater had continued to make different passes at me, all ultimately hinting that I should dump my current boyfriend. Obviously, he was unsuccessful.
"I've told him how I feel about you over and over again," I said meaningfully to Bryce. "He knows that we're staying together."
"Does he?" He murmured tightly, nodding towards something behind me. My heart skipped a couple of beats when he spoke. I dropped my hands from around Bryce's neck and he let go of my waist.
"Suze," Paul beamed, looking dashingly handsome in all black. "You look great."
I felt heat rising in my cheeks. I mumbled a 'thanks,' and stared at the knot in his silk black tie.
"Bryce," He nodded to my date. "Do you mind if I…?"
Nostrils flaring angrily, Bryce looked to me. I nodded reassuringly that it was okay, and he unwillingly turned an about face to get some drinks.
Paul placed his hands lightly on my hips and pulled me in closer. I responded by looping my arms around his neck, and we began to dance.
"Martinson isn't too happy with me, is he?" he chuckled in my ear.
"Not particularly. I mean, you did ask me out…"
"Isn't he up for a little competition?" he wondered slyly.
A moment of awkward silence passed through us, and no one spoke until I plucked up the courage to ask who he had come with.
"Kelly Prescott, naturally." He answered shrugging nonchalantly.
His reply felt like a punch to the stomach. And I had been so sure that he was different.
"Oh." I said, for it was the only near-intelligent word I could think of.
"You know, Martinson really isn't your type…" Paul said carefully, with what sounded like hidden meaning.
"Oh?" I repeated, now with morbid curiosity; morbid because I was still some-what insulted at the fact that he had brought Kelly to the JSMS dance.
His eyes hardened and his hold on my waist got just that bit tighter as we swayed. "Yes. And your ghost friend, Jesse, seems to agree with me, though thinking that he's right for you…?"
Too many emotions and feelings hit me so soon and so fast, that I suddenly felt dizzy.
But the main felling I had at that time was shock. The shock that overtook and overwhelmed me, froze me completely, and had I not have tensed - aghast from what he had just said - the of the blood and coloring draining from my face, I would have flinched from the acid-laced contempt that Paul's comment contained; the hate in his tone was difficult to miss. I couldn't remember the last time so many questions had arisen from my brain at such a swift pace.
How had he known? Could he see ghosts too? Who was this, holding me like I belonged to him, speaking dangerously incriminating words, relaying to me some of my own most personal secrets…
I blinked up wildly from the black knot in his tie to his cold, hard gaze that met my own. The emotions that touched his beautiful, yet hateful face were hard to read; hurt, anger, sadness, malice…?
He pulled me in even closer so that our bodies were now touching as he continued to elaborate in a low, but clear, dark tone. "Neither of them comes even close to being what you need. Jesse is an insignificant imprint of a life that was, forever loitering where he is most unneeded; the world, for a specific example."
As he said this his gaze grew distant overlooking the top of my head, smirking at his callousness. He looked back down at me with warm, humorous eyes. "But, we both know that his attempts to pursue you are futile. As for Bryce…" he thought for a moment. "His normality is the only flaw that particularly bothers me; that he could never be what you are…what we are…"
What we are. I shuddered involuntarily from the chill that had just erupted through my body.
I didn't know what to say, let alone to think of the situation I was put in and of the information that I was being given.
He was a mediator. He as good as said it: "What we are."
I, who had stopped moving to the beat long ago, swayed dangerously from the stress. Paul tightened his vice-like grip on my lower half to keep me from falling out all over the dance floor. His grip was like iron.
I sagged slightly in his arms while I tried to regain some composure. He continued. "You need to be with someone who you know will take care of you with everything they have; their power and soul."
"You're a Mediator," I stated disbelievingly weakly for the record, testing the phrase out for myself. I didn't like it.
"No."
"But, you just said – "
A quick new song had begun and we had stopped dancing completely. Paul, however, had not relaxed his handle on my middle and he was looking at me with bright, hopeful eyes that were full of meaning. "I am not a Mediator, and neither are you. Suze, we are so much more." At that, a hissing smoke blew from a Fog Machine from the bottom of the DJ table.
From then on, everything he said beforehand had flown out of my mind completely. The shock, the irritation, and the confusion had all been placed with a single, more intense feeling; a burning curiosity had now imbedded itself at the pit of my stomach.
He could see that he had me in the palm of his hand. He almost looked satisfied, like a small child having finally gotten what they couldn't have before.
I blinked up at him, uncomprehending. "What…what are you talking about?" I whispered through numb lips, only slightly above the pounding base of the music.
"You can figure it out," he said. He leaned down and kissed me lightly on my frozen lips. "Good night, Suze."
And then he straightened up, and vanished into the fog, leaving me on the dance floor.