Ch 7 Drive
A/N: Okay, here's the long awaited Ch 7: my school has the threat of a Snow Day, so I've been editing away. I hope you guys are satisfied with this. I'm sorry that it's mostly dialogue, but it's the only way I can properly introduce Alive Jesse's life. I try to adhere to the books and keep it realistic. I think this is the longest chapter so far…yeah. It's the longest. Again, hope you guys enjoy it!
Oh. And if I don't update before Christmas, Happy Holidays!!
Disclaimer: This is a by-product of Mrs. Cabot. These characters are hers. I can only wish they were my own.
To my fabulous reviewers: THANK YOU!
Blue-Eyed Chica: You can theorize, but that doesn't mean I'll tell you if you're right! =p Thanks for being patient and reading this fanfic. He doesn't seem injured, but keep in mind Suze has been in the hospital for a long time. If he were injured, he'd probably be healed…but since it was sooner, obviously, he didn't get as totaled. *cringe* And he is the scapegoat. Unfortunately.
Lady Clark-Weasley of Books: I know!! I love Doc—I mean, David. =] It always made me smile whenever Suze let that slip up, so I'm having the amnesic Suze do that as well. Bits of her are returning, after all. Thanks for the praise. =] It's motivated a scene between Andy and Suze. I'm incredibly sorry that at the moment, I can't do your challenge, but when I can, I will. Glad you think of me so highly…*squeal* =D
Satellite Falling: =D Thanks!! I'm glad that you like how everything is coming to her slowly. Various things trigger memories. =] tehe. I hope I'm slightly funny: you see…sometimes, I'll crack a pun/joke that's intended for laughter, but it fails epically. *shrug* Not a comedian, that's for sure! Hate to disappoint, but this chapter has less giggles. =/ *please don't beat me* Glad you're hooked, though!
Cookiesruletheworld: =D I'm glad you liked the quote. It's one of the huge things in my life; seriously, I could NOT go anorexic because I love food too much. Or vegetarian. Though I do love animals. *sigh* Tollhouse cookies are GREAT: I went to the mall and bought three…those are what motivated me to put them in this story, tehe. I think you'll enjoy the start of this chapter. I promise I'll introduce Jake and Brad…expect awkwardness you can chortle at. I 3 Doc. He's a cutie. =] I hate to tell you that you won't find out what EXACTLY happened in the Accident until later. Maybe not MUCH later. I'm sorry that it's been a while since my last update, but hey—this year has been a record.
I want to be Jesse's girl: Um, dearie, of COURSE Suze is falling for Jesse again—who can resist?? =p It is there, subconsciously, and you'll see how it blossoms!! *Corny line. Sorry.* And Oh. My. Gosh. I think the only men I do love are fictional. Mr. Darcy. Jesse de Silva. Aladdin. Edward Cullen. Etc. The list goes on, and it's pathetic. We should start an organization: We Who Love Fictional Characters…WWLFC. Yeah…Jesse is pretty much at blame…huge suspect in the case. Suze doesn't know the gravity of the situation. Suze's mom, though she loved him before, is totally anti-Jesse. But really, she's a mom—who can blame her? I know. Jesse wouldn't ever harm Suze. *Rofl…rolling on the floor laughing* My heart sings for you, Jesse!!!! Nope. I tried to make my story fit into Mrs. Cabot's storyline. So Jesse is only an intern. Later, you'll learn the whole shebang. =D *Cheer for Doc and his rebellion* I hope it reminded you of Shadowland!! It's not out of character, which makes me happy. Because I'm trying to keep them in character. =] I hope this update wasn't too late. I'm seriously so sheepish right now, but secretly super pleased that you like my story so much!! I'm an aspiring writer, and stuff like that can seriously do something to one's self-confidence. Thanks for the booster-shot, =D. I know…of Cabot's teen flicks, I only truly like the Mediator series. Some of her adult books have good plots, but it's typically the same deal. I plan on being published. Hopefully. Fingers crossed. And truth be told, I absolutely adore long reviews. They make updating worthwhile. =D
rezmutt: this chapter's full of Jesse. =D Sorry. No answers about the Accident, but indeed, Suze is remembering!! I hope my storyline isn't too tragic. =]
Peppermintlyle: I hope this update is to your liking. I'm seriously sorry that it wasn't up sooner, but I've been revamping it so many times…!
caitlinx25: Tehe. Jesse de Intern: we need one of those…*sighs wistfully*
Aparul: I love rhymes. They're so grand. I'm sorry for keeping you up late, but I seriously appreciate the review. If I could, I'd ship you cookies. =] I'm glad the chapters aren't too choppy and not terribly long. My other fanfic had like, chapters that were eighteen pages in Word. And I don't even think that's the longest chapter. But my other fanfiction seriously needs some major revisal, so don't read it! Being an author, it's sort of cruel knowing things that I know you don't know. But you shall, soon. I'm glad I categorized this story in Romance/Suspense…because the genres are actually accurate! 2008-11-19 . chapter 6
Anonymous: *smiles cheesily* Omg, you think it's cute?? That seriously made my night perfect.
orochi-kun: I'm glad you like it. =] OOOH, NIGHTWISH!! I haven't listened to them in AGES!!!!! I'm sorry everyone around you was being loud and obnoxious. I was at the local library and ugh, I wanted to rip the cell phone out of this girl—who was already reprimanded for using a cell phone—and chuck it into the snow. But that's not mean. And I'm not a violent person. =]
I want to be Jesse's girl: Thank you so exceedingly much for being so sympathetic and understanding. I have an idea of where this story is going, but it takes forever to come up with what goes on between what I have written and the conclusion. It's not filler; it's development, which can be so. Hard!! Thank you, seriously, for reading my fanfiction. It makes me so happy. And no problem about the whole rereading the series and researching! I'm trying to keep the characters in check. I know…it seems like I've read this series a bazillion times. Tehe…if I have any questions, I'll just ask you. The Mediator series is so underplayed. It deserves more recognition. The Twilight series is pretty decent; I enjoy reading it. But I totally agree with you; Suze kicks Bella's asymptote. And all you have to do is replace ghosts for vampires, yeah. I was a little disappointed with the movie, but that's totally natural, because NOTHING can EVER compare to the books. Except Lord of the Rings…those were GREAT adaptations. I was such a LotR buff at one point, tehe. And YEAH!! The Mediator movie? Good GOD it better be good and the characters BETTER look like themselves because Hollywood does stink at keeping to the plot. Honestly?????? You're ALREADY COPYING THE PLOT. WHY CAN'T YOU JUST USE THE BOOK INSTEAD OF MAKING UP YOUR OWN DARN SCREENPLAY? And if people TRULY love the series, they'll love all 4 hours of it. And no one, NO one, can ever play Jesse. *sigh, I ranted too, but it's healthy* Hendrix and I had a splendid evening…and now I'm moving on to more unsuspecting artists. _
Devil's Power: Thank you so much for reviewing. And I hope this update is good enough.
Rezmutt: I absolutely hate author notes as well, but I'm being a hypocrite. I wanted to tell you guys that I was hard at work. You were not forgotten. I'm sorry for the wait. =[ blame my homework load.
iFo0l: perhaps. Ghost related, yes. And thank you SO much for the praise. Enjoy the update!!
Ch 7 Drive
It was official. Henceforth, Tollhouse chocolate cookies with white chocolate chips were my absolute favorite cookie. It was, after all, the inverted chocolate chip cookie.
It was warm.
It was succulent.
It was perfect.
I shut my eyes and prayed that the expression on my face wasn't too orgasmic. Because that would be depressing, if not embarrassing, considering that Jesse, unbeknownst to himself the epitome of male virility, was sitting right next to me. And here I was, having a…well…that.
Taste buds curling with ebullience and ecstasy, I opened my eyes and watched the empty house at 99 Pine Crest Drive, my Victorian-looking prison complete with turrets and all, through the mirror. The words "OBJECTS IN MIRROR ARE CLOSER THAN THEY APPEAR" was embossed on the bottom of the mirror as we made our merry way down the lane. I had to hand it to my mom and Andy; our home was pretty damn impressive-looking compared to all the other houses. Blue and white and cream, widow's walk included…landscape positively erupting with huge pine trees and flowering shrubs. Something clicked in the back of my mind, and I could have sworn I had trepidations when I first entered this house. It was unfathomable; why the hell would I be afraid to step inside when it was just so tasteful?
Well, whatever, I'm an amnesiac. So shoot me.
I turned my head away from the window. I couldn't get over the fact that I was sitting in a car alone with this fine gentleman my mother seemed so against. If anything, he was so the type I could bring home and introduce to the family. But whatever. I was totally defying her wishes. My mom's wishes, I mean. But this. This was a good reason to disobey my mother. The fact that he seemed to have been an important part of my life or whatnot. Plus he was just so…
Easy on the eyes was an understatement. My eyes wandered to his profile, and I resisted the urge to say, "Yum." Because that's what he was. Yum. A personified confection I wanted to savor. But he wasn't a confection, nor was he mine.
Then again, I really have no memory of my past love lives. If any. After later researching my past life, I discovered I really wasn't a socialite or part of the Brooklyn fete…ergo, I was a little afraid to inspect my Carmel self.
Thank God I wasn't aphasic; I don't think I could handle the whole shebang.
My thoughts drifted back to the present and into the car, where I noticed a scar on the eyebrow facing me—the result of a knife fight? I couldn't deny the fact that he looked dangerous. Handsome, yes, but dangerous too. With a face and a body like that, and with eyes like those, he could have every girl on the continental US swooning, as well as their pursuing ax-wielding boyfriends.
I told myself to stop gawking. Really, it was so obvious. And from what I remembered, staring was considered rude, even if you wanted to jab your thumbs into the perpetrator's eyes. But I wasn't a violent person, was I.
I had a hunch that that was a total lie, but I repressed the notion. Me, fight? Puh-lease. I wouldn't harm a rapist.
…Wait…on second thought, I'd probably drop kick them all and deport them to Siberia if I had the strength. Maybe a few cans of Monster would do the trick.
What the hell, I was having conversations in my head. They had shrinks for this sort of stuff.
I noticed Jesse was incredibly clean-shaven. And he smelled of something delicious, I couldn't put my finger on it. But of course he wasn't as fixated on me as I was on him. And I had a horrible feeling that I'd sacrifice life and limb for this guy. Or that I already had.
"Enjoying your cookie, Susannah? You seem to be, ah, rather enjoying it."
I shot him what I later figured was my oh-my-Jesus-I-want-to-curl-up-into-a-ball-and-roll-down-Mount-Everest-until-I-hit-the-Tibetan-border look. He probably thought I was a complete nincompoop, if not a nymphomaniac. My cheeks responded embarrassingly. As if of their own volition, they just started burning like a California wildfire. Really, absolutely blazing, completely overreacting. It was uncalled for, so in a last-ditch effect, I tried preserving my dignity.
"Ha, ha…you're a riot."
I know. Operation Preservation of Dignity epically failed like a bad lit-to-film. I wanted to smack him. I really did. Or kiss him. Which was worse. Because he didn't even think of me like that.
After passing a few terra-cotta homes, Jesse, liquid eyes thoughtful, turned off my street and mused as I tried to stifle my overactive cheeks. "Perhaps," he wondered, "I have a chance to make it big as a comedian, if medicine fails." I never realized it before, but his English was as unaccented as my own. Shocking, considering that he looked so Spaniard.
I stuck out my tongue, grateful that we switched topics. "Stop gloating, you'd only make it on YouTube."
Nonchalant, I stretched out my sore limbs. The physical therapist, sadists that they were, wanted me to lift weights in the next session. Pricks. I was in pain as it was…didn't need another cause. I could actually feel gravity holding me down to earth, and it seemed to be pulling unusually hard on my arms and legs. Maybe it'd suck me into a shallow grave. Except David would have something to say about that. Gravity is constant. It doesn't intentionally target your limbs to further induce pain, Suze. Or pull aching individuals into the ground. And that's not even feasible.
Hah.
Gravity's a sadist, working in cahoots with my physical therapist and the Devil.
Jesse looked at me, a fervent look on his face. "You remember what YouTube is?" I felt my heart sink; his too-eager eyes thought I had actually remembered YouTube pre-Accident.
I said lightly, "Just because I was incapacitated and maimed, quarantined and ignored, doesn't mean I was denied the internet." After all, laptops and gurneys are portable. And if I were a more rebellious patient, I'd use the receptionists' computers.
My statement was meant to be sardonic, but Jesse failed to register my dry humor. Rather, he looked more chagrined than the occasion warranted. "I'm sorry. That was callous and egregious." His voice faded. I paused, waiting for him to laugh and say, "Ha! Fooled you." But he didn't.
I didn't want to ruin the lighthearted mood by discussing the Accident, for fear that he'd bring up his own guilt. "No! Don't be! I've been on a laptop recently, that's all I was trying to say…" not like it was your fault. Because he couldn't have been guilty, albeit everyone was blaming him. I would have to search online for any newspaper article about the Accident, because I wish I could at least know what everyone else knew. I realized then that I had nearly forgotten why I was disobeying my mother in the first place. I had to get back on track. Jesse must know.
This agent had a mission, clichés be damned.
"It's a perfectly logical question; I shouldn't have been so crass."
He still had wounded eyes.
Um. "Just shower me with cookies and—" I peered into the untouched bag and felt my stomach rumble. "—fettuccine alfredo."
He smiled ruefully and I breathed a sigh of relief I didn't even know I was holding. "I'll keep that in mind. Anything else?" His words, slightly husky, had a double meaning. I knew it. I turned my eyes to the passing scenery and noticed how we flew down an intersection. Huh. Could have sworn I biked down this street at night, I thought as I twirled the plastic fork.
"Um. So this might sound weird, but keep in mind, I'm amnesic—"
"How could I forget?" he murmured.
I looked at him. "Hey…nothing too nostalgic."
He gave me a wry grin. "If Susannah the Great declares it. I hope you don't use the amnesic thing as an excuse for everything now."
"Ha. Ha." We both chortled.
"How well did I know you?"
He eyed me warily, as if gauging—rather, predicting—my reaction to his next words. I kept my face smooth… you know, in a hiding-my-infatuation sort of way. It was the only way I could function around him. "Very well, actually. You knew all my secrets."
I raised an eyebrow, feigning mild interested. Huh. To think I knew what was behind those inscrutable eyes. "Um, all your secrets?"
He thought about it, lips pressed together. A smile lightened his eyes. "Well, excluding a few minor details."
"Would you like me to ever know those?" I teased.
"I'm sure you will. But let's proceed with the basics. We have very limited time." I glanced at the car's clock. He was right. Time was short. I had forgotten that he needed to work. I stabbed the fettuccine and brought the pasta to my mouth. "What do you want to know?" he asked in a particularly friendly tone.
No pointless questions. I chewed. It was delicious. Surviving on intravenous drip seemed a fate worse than death. "How do I know you?"
His eyes were enigmatic, par usual. I could have been another of the hoi polloi. Deadpan, he asked, "You think I'm one of Jake's or Brad's friends?"
I nodded. He was psychic. I was expecting an enthused, "Oh yeah, we're tight," or a passionate, "No, Susannah, celestial moon in my bleak night sky, they're only my friends because I was trying to get closer to you."
No. He didn't have at all the reactions I envisioned, though frankly, the latter was slightly fantastical on my part. Damnit all. But a girl can dream.
Instead, shoulders shaking, he started laughing. Actually laughing. I didn't think my insinuation was that far from the mark, so I didn't see what was so hilarious. But I wanted him to laugh forever, even if I didn't see what was so funny, because it was such a lovely tenor sound. He tried restraining himself, but that failed and he erupted into even more peals. A flash of pearly whites greeted my eyes when he threw his head back. He had nice teeth. I wondered if he invested thousands in oral hygiene. I wanted to laugh with him, but the awful truth was I hadn't seen my brothers since I got home, so I really didn't know what was so funny. Perhaps I ought to have been offended, but in retrospect, I probably knew in my heart of hearts that Sleepy and Dope—I mean, Jake and Brad, weren't chummy with me. Or the other way around. "Susannah, if you remembered the party they had in the summer of your junior year, you'd understand why I didn't befriend them first…imbeciles that they were…" he wiped at his eyes.
"Are they…nice brothers?" I asked meekly.
Jesse tried not to snort. "You are fond of them in a, ah, typical brotherly fashion. I shouldn't influence you, though. Doc, I mean, David, is truly your favorite."
I knew that. Even without him telling me, I knew. Heck, Doc risked life and limb to call me with Sister Stick-Up-My-Anus breathing down his neck.
What a sweetie. I decided that when he got back from school, I'd give him a monstrous hug. Talk to him for a few hours. See what was his latest experiment, since he seemed the type to tinker around with graduated cylinders and test tubes. I wondered if he ever tested on the hybrid Ursidae-like dog at home.
The cogs in my head turned as I mulled over Jesse's slip-up. Doc. He called David Doc.
So we were close. Closer than just mutual acquaintances. Unless other people called David Doc. I would have to ask Doc when he got home.
"Forgive me, Susannah, for laughing; that was uncalled for."
I shot him a glance as I swallowed the last of the fettuccine. I put the Styrofoam plate and the fork back into the bag. Beyond his head were palm trees. We seemed to be in the village part of Carmel. Carmel-by-the-Sea? I wasn't positive, but I saw picturesque cottages. It was weird what I remembered. Why couldn't I remember this gentleman extraordinaire? "You're uncannily polite, I've noticed."
Jesse stopped at a four-way intersection, allowing tourists, cameras and all, to cross the street. There were no stoplights. Fascinating…
"Is there something wrong with that?" he inquired gently and tilted his head towards me.
I shrugged, noticing that I needed lotion on my hands. I hid them beneath my bony thighs. Ugh. I needed to eat more. I stared at my legs. "I don't know…it's such a rarity. While I was in the hospital, not many people were polite unless I was paying them, and the receptionist at the hospital today was far from. It's sadly uncommon. But the weird thing about it is," I crossed my fingers and hoped I wouldn't regret saying what I noticed about him, "you don't seem like you're part of this generation." Before he could sneer at my observation, I let out a bark of laughter. "Wow, how weird does that sound?"
There was a pregnant pause. Crap, he thought I was a lunatic. He would have me deported back to New York and committed to Bellevue.
Shockingly, he did not have me evacuate his vehicle. "Not too far off the mark, actually," I heard him murmur as he turned the car. "You seem to be remembering more than everyone gives you credit."
Amazed, I internally beamed. From his lips, those words were worth every diamond in the world. At least, to me, besotted as I was.
No! Not besotted. I've known this guy for less than twenty-four hours, creep.
Conversation stilled for a moment.
"Is it still infinite questions?" he teased. I tried not to smile but failed miserably.
"Yes…hold your horses, it's not like you're the one with memory loss. Having issues coming up with questions."
"Touché…but perhaps the real question, Susannah, is one you should ask yourself; what do you remember?"
I tilted my head towards him. His eyes were intelligent and warm. They prompted me to think. "About the Accident?" Gosh, his lips looked so sensual… Every follicle on my skin was aware of his presence. He was so warm, so alive.
"No," he dismissively waved his hand. "About your life."
I never considered that, asking questions about myself and seeing if I knew the answers.
I frowned and cleared my head. "Ask me something."
Jesse pondered for a few seconds. "Your name and age," he said with a crooked smile.
"That's easy, Susannah Simon, seventeen going on eighteen, senior at Junipero Serra Mission Academy."
"Who are your friends?"
My eyes were now fixed on the blinking brake light in front of us. "An…albino. Her name was…two consonants. Her boyfriend or something…" My eyebrows puckered. Friends. "Gina back in Brooklyn. Ha! I remember Gina. Um. Geez, random faces floating around in my brain…" exasperated, I flung out my hands. "Jesse, there are so many questions to ask, and random things I remember: like, I took French back in Brooklyn, my hometown. My dad died when I was, like, what, six or something. My mom remarried Andy, who has three kids. I moved here in the middle of sophomore year after Christmastime…random bits of information. It's impossible to remember everything!"
"Susannah," Jesse asked me sternly, "why are you defeated? Nothing ever deterred you. Your mind is not your enemy. I won't allow it. No, querida, you're going to remember everything." He breathed deeply. "Do you remember anything about California? About any special abilities? Your father?"
"Special abilities?" I asked.
Jesse bit his lip.
"Querida, so you don't remember anything about…" I could almost hear him backtrack as he muttered something in Spanish. He continued with, "how you met me?"
I gazed at him, concentrating. Why did my heart rejoice at the word querida? It was foreign, obviously. Did I take Spanish in California, since the Latino ratio was so much higher here? I made a mental note to check my schedule…wherever it was. It was March, so college applications were in. I suppose that was one less worry.
How I met Jesse de Silva. How I met Jesse de Silva. How DID I meet Jesse de Silva?
I couldn't do it. All I remembered was a view of the ocean from a window.
"Please don't hate me, but for the moment, I can't." Frustration welled up behind my eyes and I blinked. How the hell did I meet him?
"No, Susannah, don't fret—you will remember soon."
"How do you know that??" I demanded, alarmed at how my voice choked up.
He opened his mouth, but I interrupted him. "No, no…I'm sorry. All of this is getting to me," I admitted. "Let's continue infinite questions. But for now, my turn. To give my brain a break."
Jesse nodded.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
So he graduated high school three years ago, and he was already an intern?
"You were an intern at the hospital…and you're in college?"
Jesse gripped the steering wheel, and I watched the sinewy tendons in his arms tighten.
"Yes, I'm an intern, but that was through sheer dedication and self-studying." He paused, as if mentally debating whether he should share more information. "This fall was my first term at a university. I've been taking…quite a few classes to compensate for lost years. Studying and working is all I seem to do," he remarked dryly.
I shot him an incredulous look as I fiddled with the upholstery. He started college not even a year ago, since it was March. "Lost years?" He was smart; that was obvious, so why did he start college in his twenties? What, was he some slacker or something? But that didn't explain why he was pursuing medicine, since it takes dedication, something he doesn't lack. Why was he was an intern if he didn't start, let alone complete, his undergrads. Was he in some accelerated program? Did he have to take the MCAT, that medical admission test in order to intern? If so, he would be in graduate school. And he wasn't, since he just started college this fall. It didn't make sense. If he started so late, why was he so ahead?
I had so many questions, yet I could tell something was paining Jesse. He wasn't telling me everything, and I wasn't sure if he was lying or not. He had no reason to lie if I knew all this beforehand. Why would he withhold information?
"You can't cram four years worth of undergraduate classes into seven months," I said blatantly.
He looked at me but quickly focused his eyes back on the road. Perhaps he had a destination in mind, but I honestly cared less. I had questions.
"Indeed…I never said I was. I took several AP classes during the summer and tested out of various other courses I had prior knowledge of. By doing this, I earned quite a few credits: statistics I had learned in my spare time…I took a class for calculus…some tutorials for English language and composition, literature and composition…I naturally mastered the Spanish subject test…earning these credits helped me now, because instead of four years, at this rate, I might finish undergrads in two and a half, and then test into medical school by age twenty-three."
"That doesn't explain the interning."
"Not many undergrads intern, true. But I'm interning because I was recommended by a good friend. It's more of volunteer work right now…but my classes at school are medical-oriented, thus, I've been honing my skills. I'm still behind, since I unfortunately started late…" his voice trailed off, and I felt my eyebrows nearly touch my hairline. Holy cow. Through his entire speech, he seemed embarrassed of his innumerable achievements.
He was brilliant.
"That's a lot of self-initiation," I stated. He merely shrugged, his cheeks coloring. He was modest; it was refreshing and delightful. I felt my heart swell with pity for this man forced to work so hard to achieve his dreams.
"I had to learn to be incredibly self-reliant. I had no penny to my name, querida, and I needed money for college. So Father Dominic, your 'principal' at the Mission, was so gracious as to lend me his many services. He helped me obtain the numerous side jobs so I could afford college." His eyebrows narrowed as he tried to count his numerous occupations. I felt my heart reach out to this person. He had so much purpose in life… "He helped me find my first job at the Historical Society Museum. I still work there occasionally when time permits. Your stepfather hired me for menial handiwork around your house and various locations. I worked for Andy for quite some time, actually… professors and lab partners tell me that I'm good with my hands, steady as they are in delicate procedures, and one of the surgeons at the hospital is paying me to help renovate his home…putting up all the drywall—that's my latest assignment. I am actually going there after I take you home." He shook his head. "I am not nearly hardworking enough as they give me credit for…"
I tried to change the subject to lighter subjects. "You are so focused on becoming a doctor. Medical school is exceedingly expensive, hence the side jobs…yet you never mention family. What happened to your parents? Why didn't they leave money for you?"
Jesse stared straight ahead. His grip, if it was possible, got tighter; if the steering wheel were personified, I'd fret about asphyxiation. Voice thick, he said patiently, "They passed years ago."
I felt my heart plummet, as I was completely dumbfounded. Shit. What the hell do you say to that? My heart empathized with him. I wanted to pat his back. I wanted to hug him. But instead of being a normal person, a funny thing happened. I started crying. Not bawling, heavens, my dignity had already suffered enough, but my eyes welled up and there was this prickly sensation in my nose. Was idiocy a result of concussions? I'd have to Google that. I felt like an utter fool.
I bit my lip. "Gosh, I feel like such a jackass," I said in this really gross voice. Hell, I even grossed myself out. Never mind what Jesse thought, it was beyond repair. I bet you've never ruined your chances with a guy as badly as I just did.
Jesse jolted, and he nearly jerked the car beyond the meridian. A fancy-looking coupe honked at us and blared past. Jesse ignored the car. Instead he looked at me, eyes wide with utmost shock. "Susannah, you're crying—!" he was driving, but I could have sworn he wanted to, I don't know, console me for the heinous thing I said. Me. Him console me. I started crying harder. What the hell was my problem? Why was he so damn nice?
"No, really, I feel like the biggest dumb ass on the face of the planet." I hid my face in my hands, wetting my hands with shameful tears. "I'm such a dolt. I can't fathom just how inconsiderate that was and I'm so sorry."
"Susannah."
A torrent of word diarrhea emitted from my lips. "Had I known, I would have the decency not to bring up such a topic. That's totally inexcusable."
"Susannah," he said again.
"I was being thoughtless and just…just a total dumb ass—"
"Susannah!!" That got my attention. "Susannah… you are NOT being a dumb…dumb-"
"Dumb ass."
"Susannah." He gave me a hard look.
"Sorry." I sniffed. He was going to make me get out of his car. I would be forced to endure the embarrassing trek home, forever guilty of bringing up—
With a heavy sigh, Jesse turned into the nearest entry, which happened to be a Krispy Kreme. Inside the car was silent as he searched for a parking space. After parking perfectly in the center, he shut off the engine and turned towards me.
I wiped my eyes and waited, bracing myself. Thank God I wore waterproof mascara.
"Nombre de Dios, Susannah." He raked a hand through his dark hair. "Please do not ever call yourself that!"
"A dumb ass?"
"Susannah."
"Sorry."
"You are far from that, rest assure, querida. It was an honest mistake, one you should not regret; you had no idea. How could you when you cannot remember things? They've been deceased for…ages." He looked me in the eyes, seeing if I registered this information. It was news to me. My eyes were drying. "I am quite all right with their deaths, as with the rest of my family. In fact, I've even made amends with my past." He shot a glance in my direction again and his eyes looked alarmed. I guess my face still was of utmost guilt, because he sighed, reached out a tan hand, and with a slight pause, rested it on my upper arm. His warmth reached my uneasy countenance and I relaxed. Not completely. "Trust me, querida, it is quite all right."
Unsure of what to do, suddenly, he wrapped his arms around me.
Jesse de Silva was hugging me. Actually holding me in his arms.
My heartbeat grew incessant and fast.
I felt my lips slowly shape into a bow. He forgave me.
But as unexpected as the hug was, it was just as fleeting. He released me and backed away quickly.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"No, no, it's fine!" Believe me.
Since my tears were gone, Jesse smiled and scanned the backseat. Suddenly, he said something in Spanish that did not sound too friendly.
"Susannah, is there a black duffel bag in the backseat?"
I craned my neck to check. Among the spotless backseat, there was no duffel.
I told him this, and I heard him mutter Spanish again.
"Why? What's in the duffel?"
I felt my heart race. Was he going to bind and gag me? No. He wouldn't do that. Nonetheless, my felt my nerves stand on end.
"I'm such a foolish person. I suppose I was more absentminded than I thought…" he looked at me. "You noticed earlier that I'm still in my hospital attire. In the duffel were my extra changing clothes and some spare tools."
"What's the problem?"
"My apologies, Susannah, I had planned on taking you to the beach for some fresh air, dropping you off at home, and then going promptly to work, but because of my idiocy, I'm going to have to take you home immediately so then I can grab my duffel from home."
"Why can't I come with you?" I asked.
He looked shocked at the very notion. "It isn't proper! And I do not plan on wasting your precious time."
I tried not to giggle. Really, he sounded like he came straight out of some historical romance novel.
"Jesse…you won't be wasting my time. I enjoy your company." He didn't budge. "It's efficient, and the least I can do for you since you paid for my lunch."
No cigar. I needed to say something else. "Plus, I'd be home alone, and I'd rather be with someone…in case something happens…" I let the sentence trail off. Hopefully he had an overactive imagination.
He must have sworn in Spanish as his eyes slid to my own. "Oh, you exasperate me sometimes with your ease at swaying my will…!" he sighed in defeat and I inwardly laughed. "Would it be too forward to ask if we can swing by my…place?" his eyes were dark and I couldn't tell why it seemed so hard to use the phrasing "place."
"Of course, Mr. de Silva."
A quick smile crossed his perfect features. "So that is a yes? You have no issue with an extra half hour of my company?"
"Jesse…you're ridiculous."
Who could refuse?
A/N: Hope you enjoyed it.
