A/N I think this has to be another one of my favourite chapters. Thanks to all of you who have read and reviewed faithfully.
This chapter is for sunnybee, the nicest reviewer I think I have ever met! Hate to break it to you though, I can't ever get this published because many of the ideas are taken from Sarah Dessen's This Lullaby. This chapter, however, isn't.
Also dedicated to xoxdefygravityxox, if she's reading. Its great to hear from you again.
And finally, thanks to little drop of sunshine - who had a lot to do with the plot of this chapter. And Moonlight Silhouette - my duplicate in all thigns fanfiction - except of course, in reviews as you have so many! She helped me with the Jesse/Ebony-ness you guys all hated. I love you two very dearly.
Please read and review, and more importantly... enjoy.
Daddy's Little Girl
Chapter Twelve
"I just love weddings," sighed Meghan, and she took yet another sip of her champagne, even though pink spots had appeared on her cheeks hours ago.
"Um, Meg?" asked Cee-Cee tentatively. "It's not the wedding yet. This is just the rehearsal dinner. Are you feeling O.K?"
"She's completely pissed," snorted Paul, who had raised his face from my neck especially to make his point. "She may be feeling O.K now, but she sure as hell won't be in the morning."
I shot Paul a pointed look before taking Meghan's cold hand, which she squeezed just a little too enthusiastically. "I know this isn't the wedding," she said, exasperatedly. "But I still love them."
"I'm glad someone's excited," I replied, patting her back affectionately. I couldn't hear myself think – all four walls of the reception hall were echoing the guest's vivacious chatter. It was so loud I couldn't even pick out words, and the only way I could deal with it was to down the champagne put on our table. It seemed to be working well so far.
"I still love Kenny too…" Meghan began to wail, lowering her head to the floor sadly, and the whole table groaned. In a sober state, Meghan seemed to be over her boyfriend's betrayal, but under the influence of alcohol, she wasn't so sure. Alyssa – who seemed to have appointed herself Meghan's shrink – swapped seats with an eager Fliss and spoke to her sternly.
"Meghan Thomas," she said, and her sharp tone made Meghan sit up quickly. "If you don't stop wallowing about your stupid, inconsiderate and completely unworthy ex-boyfriend of yours – which is driving us all insane, by the way – I will pour the entire bottle of champagne, and the ice it's sitting in, over your head and kick you out in the cold."
"Stupid, inconsiderate and completely unworthy ex-boyfriend," she repeated confidently, with a smile. Alyssa nodded her head, satisfied, and shrugged at me.
"It's progress," she said.
I was about to reply – I think maybe to ask about her grandmother – but I was interrupted by hyena-like laughing, and the appearance of oh-so-familiar faces at the door of the reception hall. I was out of my seat faster than you could say "Dirty Bunch" and head straight for the culprit of the intrusion.
"Oh no you don't," I said, thrusting an accusing finger in Jake's face. "I am not having some stupid…band-" I spat the last word as if I was considering calling them another name. "- ruin my mother's rehearsal dinner."
Jake just grinned, and closed a hand over my finger. "Sorry, Miss Wedding Planner, but I was invited to this dinner, and I could bring guests. Just like you did." He shot a glance over to Paul, who was – along with the girls I'd abandoned him with – curiously watching me. "You brought lover boy, and I brought the guys."
I scowled. "Wipe your feet," I ordered. "And behave."
"Of course, m'lady," he replied, and he bowed low mockingly. I exhaled shortly, and stormed back to my table, already feeling like the night was slowly going to turn into a disaster. Paul took my hand and squeezed it gently, and whispered in my ear.
"You want to go somewhere a little more private for a sec?" His cool, Listerine-scented breath tickled my earlobe, and I nodded my head subtly. Dropping his hand – which instead began distractingly stroking my leg – I addressed my friends, who were all unconvincingly trying to look as if they hadn't been watching us in fascination.
"We'll just… be a bit," I told them, standing up and pushing my chair under the table. All four of them nodded at me like those stupid bobble-heads, smiling smugly.
"I didn't know there was a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven going on," Alyssa said out of the corner of her mouth. I smacked her shoulder playfully and Paul took my other hand, entwining his masculine fingers with mine, which were pale and – I'm ashamed to say – a little clammy, due to nerves about my mother's wedding only two days away.
God, I didn't know why I was so nervous. I wasn't the one getting married. Jeesh.
Paul led me out of the main room, and down a narrow corridor. He came to the end – which had no windows, so it was becoming slightly dark – and opened a thin door, gesturing for me to go inside.
"A broom cupboard?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow humorously. He sighed, and leant on the door, causing it to creak.
"Do you see anywhere else?" he retorted, and I took his hands in mine.
"Let's just stay here," I said, squinting in the dim duskiness. "In the corridor." He began turning my hands over and over, examining my palms and my fingernails and my fingerprints gently. Then he lifted one over his shoulder, and put the other one to his face, the cold of it contrasting with the constant heat from his cheeks.
I'm not sure what made me do it. It could have been the fact that I was just so nervous, and I needed a distraction. It could have been the rage I felt about Jesse and Ebony, and Jake barging into the dinner accompanied by all his music pals… or it could have just been that I hadn't been kissed on the lips for a record amount of time…
I curled my hand around the back of Paul's neck, whilst letting the other one drop to his waist. Simultaneously, Paul put his hand at the back of my head, supporting it, whilst the fingers of the other one played with the tendrils of hair flowing down my back. I closed my eyes, knowing what happens next – what always happened next. I had this relationship wired. This relationship, unlike my previous one, followed the mechanics.
Paul closed his eyes a fraction of a second after me, pulling my face towards his as his lids slowly drooped. I felt his fresh exhalation of my lips before his skin, and then finally we met – just for second, before we broke apart and adjusted our heads, fitting together again. This kiss was cool, and clean, and dry, and not bad as far as kisses go, but it lacked something.
Something I just couldn't put my finger on.
We had progressed to leaning against the wall, pressed up against each other, when the door at the other end of the corridor banged loudly. We broke apart, jumping, and Paul was stood opposite me, breathing hard, hand over his heart.
"What the hell was that-?"
"Susannah?"
My stomach lurched as soon as I realised just what and who had interrupted us. I smoothed my skirt and ruffled my hair, rolling my eyes.
"Oh, for the love of God, Jesse." Paul's eyes widened at my words.
"Jesse?" he repeated, mouth slightly open in shock. "As in, Jesse De Silva? Suze, you know this guy?" I went to excuse myself, but I was too slow.
"Actually, we dated," Jesse replied, coming closer, voicing the exact words that I didn't want Paul to hear. I grimaced, closing my eyes in disgust, too embarrassed to see his reaction. "A couple of weeks after you shamelessly cheated on her with Kelly Prescott." I didn't have to have my eyes open to know Paul was curling his fists, ready to pounce.
"We're back together," he replied, and my eyes re-opened when I felt his arm around my shoulder.
"Gee, never would have guessed that by the way you two were behaving just a few seconds ago," he said, sarcastically, and I tell, as he took another step closer, that he was drunk – or very close to it. A faint smell of beer was hanging in the air.
"That means back off," grunted Paul, and he took a step forward to demonstrate the point. Jesse faltered a little, wandering backwards, before raising his arm and dealing Paul a hard punch, which made a swooping noise as it fell through the air, and sent Paul sprawling into the broom cupboard door.
"Bastard," he muttered, before jumping back to his feet and rugby-tackling Jesse to the floor, fighting off Jesse's attacks whilst trying to achieve some digs of his own.
"Stop!" I screamed, as the two went rolling down the corridor in a collection of flailing limbs. "Stop it! Hello, are you even listening to me?"
I followed them hesitantly, and watching helplessly as I heard the unmistakable noise of tearing nasal cartilage and saw Jesse lift a bloody hand, triumphantly. One of Paul's shoes had come off in the battle, and I picked it up with a Kleenex I had folded in my pocket – in case of emergencies – and continued chasing after them, yelling both their names.
"Jesse!" I cried. "Paul! Stop it! You're ruining the rehearsal dinner!"
They crashed into the reception hall's main room, and I heard all of the chipper talking die away as Paul and Jesse fumbled and swore colourfully, scrapping away. I ran in behind them, carrying Paul's leather shoe and a patch of Jesse's shirt that had been torn away, and Cee-Cee and Fliss just looked at me, as if somehow I was to blame. Meghan was sniffling again, however, and hadn't noticed the brawl.
"Stop!" I yelled for the third time, but my plea was drowned by the sound of a smashing plate. I gasped, whirling around to see who had committed such a crime to kitchenware. It was Andy, and he had another one in his hand in case the first hadn't worked.
But it had. Jesse and Paul lay on the floor in a frozen position – Jesse with a leg over Paul's shoulder, yanking his tie so that Paul was slowly turning blue, and Paul with a shoeless foot in Jesse's face, and an iron clasp on his wrist holding him to the floor. I sat down meekly, falling victim to Andy's unfailing stare and watched to see the consequences.
"I suggest," However, Andy spoke calmly. "That you two boys release each other, get up, and sort yourselves out."
Jesse and Paul wasted no time in removing their hands from each other's bodies, and began to stand up, when a ripping sound echoed through the silence. Part of Jesse's shirt had frayed away to reveal a set of perfect abdominal muscles. I had to clap a hand over Fliss's mouth to stop her gasping.
"You broke up with that?" she hissed.
Jesse took off the remains of his shirt and balled it up, sighing. Paul watched him uncomfortably. I knew for a fact that he didn't have a stomach like that. Jesse then walked away, and began talking with his band members. The noise level of the reception hall then began to rise again, as the guests' attentions were drew elsewhere.
Paul made his way over to me, and leant in for a quite peck. I gave him the cheek, not quite meeting his eye. This surprised him.
"You're the one who dated one of my school friends, but I'm the one who gets ignored?" he asked me. "Suze, that's messed up."
"I just can't believe you ruined my mom's rehearsal dinner," I replied, and I looked over to where my mother was conversing with one of Andy's sisters, a glass of champagne in one hand.
"It wasn't just me-" Paul began, and I interrupted him with a wave of my hand.
"I know, I know," I said, impatiently. "It was Jesse, too. But you're the one I'm talking to right now."
"I'm sorry," Paul said, and I leant my head against his chest reluctantly. "I'll go and make Jesse apologize too."
"No," I disputed, raising my head, and reaching behind me for my glass of champagne. "I'll go and talk to him." I nodded to Alyssa, who had Meghan drinking water instead of champagne to hydrate her. I guess the plan was to sober her up before returning home.
I made my way across the hall, and Adam spotted me first. He tapped Jesse on the shoulder and murmured something to him, and Jesse turned around, his tanned, handsome face for once not sporting a smile. Instead, it sported several beginnings of bruises, a cut across his cheek, and his usual lightening-white scar through his eyebrow. In a time of true confessions, Jesse had told me he had received it from a dog bite during childhood, putting an end to all my wistful fantasies of how it had happened.
"Hello, Susannah," he said – not in a cool tone, but not in his usual warm and welcoming voice. His faint Spanish accent was stronger than it had ever been, and I guessed he was still trying to control some of the rage he felt for Paul. I lifted a hand and swatted him across the face harshly. The surrounding guests barely noticed, however. Jesse raised a hand to his cheek, rubbing the sore skin. I hadn't hit him on his cut cheek, however. I was unsure if that was a conscious decision.
"That was for tainting my mother's rehearsal dinner," I told him tersely, and he nodded.
"I don't doubt that I deserved that, Susannah," he replied humbly. "But I think Paul deserves one too, somehow." I slapped him again.
"You can have it," I said, now drawing more attention to us. I sighed, and rolled my eyes. "Look, I'm sorry for the second one. I'm just mad, you know?"
Jesse smiled sadly. "I understand," he said. "I think I'd been anyone to a bloody pulp who disturbed my family's happiness."
I returned the wan smile. "Do you… want to talk?" I asked him, gesturing to the window, where it was quieter. Jesse was the last person on my mental to-do list of reconciliations. I'd met with Kelly Prescott earlier, who had been invited to the dinner because of her parents, and made amends, suggesting that our high school rivalry should be forgotten in light of our separation in the fall. I'd also done the same with Debbie Mancuso, who hadn't quite understood the word "amends". I had had to revert back to kindergarten language for her to finally see what I meant.
And now, the final to-do, and I was standing face-to-face with him. His face looked so sad in the bright light of the reception hall, though his eyes were dry. He suddenly – as though hit with instant inspiration – smiled and stuck out his right hand. "Shall we just…put the past behind us?" he asked me, and I glanced down at his brown hand suspiciously. "Friends?"
Ah. Friends. Such a great-sounding word; so promising, so pleasant. So unrealistic. You could never be friends with an ex-boyfriend. The supposedly extinct feelings turned out to actually be dormant, and everything just got complicated. It was never my feelings that came back to haunt me, of course, it was always the guy's. Still, that was excruciating enough.
"Jesse," I said, shaking my head. "Do you have any idea what relationships are meant to be like?"
"Do you have any idea what it's like to not stick to the assigned plan?" he returned, meeting my eyes with a fiery stare. "Have you ever in life been a rebel, Susannah?"
I had to laugh. To hear Jesse say 'rebel' – which was of course, the way I'd always describe him, with his just-out-of-my-control hairstyle, and his untied shoelaces, and his untucked shirts that had stains in the weirdest places – was just too much. "We can't be friends," I told him. "But we can be…acquaintances."
"Acquaintances," Jesse repeated, testing it on his tongue. "I'll drink to that." He raised his beer bottle, as I raised my champagne glass, and we sipped our beverages in silence. But there was just one more thing.
"So," I said, breaking the quiet, cautiously. "What's going on with you and Ebony?" Jesse choked on his fresh gulp of beer, and spat it all back out unceremoniously back into the bottle.
"W-w-what?" he coughed, and I repeated the question. "Susannah," he said, eyeing me sternly. "Acquaintances don't share that kind of business with each other." Now he was just winding me up, making my own decision backfire on me. I growled, low and deep, and felt it vibrate in my throat.
"I knew it," I said. "I knew there had to be something going on there."
"Well it's not like you haven't moved on," Jesse replied, somewhat passionately, and I took a step backwards, as if trying to step out of the discussion that was becoming heated.
"Who says you weren't allowed?" I demanded, waving my champagne glass around wildly as I spoke, and ignoring the liquid that sloshed out of the glass and onto my high heels. "Did I say it was against the rules?"
"Ah yes, the rules," Jesse said, and the expression on his face was not showing he was fond of the memories he was recalling. "Susannah's rules. Number one, don't show emotion. Number two, don't have fun. Number three, never fall in love-"
"I was never going to fall in love with you!" I cried, and the congregation around us fell quiet again. I sighed, lowering my glass heavily and shaking my toes as another lot of champagne cascaded from my drink.
"Susannah-"
I took another step backwards, and the consequence cut Jesse off. As my foot hit the ground, it trod on the edge of a particularly long curtain, but he had not seen this as he had taken a step towards me, eager to finish his sentence. I lifted my foot up and looked over my shoulder to see what had tangled up in my heel, and as I did, I found the curtain rail was loose. It was like it was in slow-motion – what happened next. The gilded rail fell from its faulty supports towards the floor, taking with it the scarlet material hanging from it, covering both Jesse and I and plunging us both into darkness, and knocking us to the floor, somehow reminiscent of a fairly recent event involving a closet and my soon-to-be stepbrother.
"Oops," I whispered, and I heard Jesse snigger next to me. He was so close; I could almost hear his heart pump. Thud-thud-thud.
I noticed now, once the initial shock had subsided, that I had grabbed onto Jesse's wrists in surprise as the curtain had crashed to the floor. I had a feeling that I may have screamed, too. What an embarrassment. I released Jesse at once.
"Oh," I said. "I'm sorry."
"It's O.K," Jesse replied, and he reached forwards in the darkness to clutch my hands again. "It's fine…"
"Jesse…" I mumbled, and the next thing I knew lips were on mine, and I really only had one idea as to whom they could belong to. I shouldn't reciprocated, but I couldn't help sliding my hands around his neck and completely giving into the kiss – it was just like a scenario straight out of one of my mother's gasping romantic novels, but I wished with a passion it wasn't.
Thud-thud-thud.
I wasn't sure if that was Jesse's heartbeat or my own.
But I was now knowingly entering into a whole new realm of confusion and misleading and god-knows-what-else and what I really should have been doing was pulling away and scolding myself – along with Jesse – for it, and then leaving the celebration immediately with my boyfriend – a.k.a not Jesse – and never speaking to this guy again. But it seemed like my lips and the rest of my body had detached themselves from my brain, and here I was thinking all this stuff yet none of it was actually happening…
And then Jesse broke apart from me, gasping for air and whispering apologies over and over again – some even in Spanish.
"Nombre de Dios, querida, I am so sorry. I don't know what came over me, it was just kind of instinct, you know-"
"Jesse," I said, trying to calm him down, but then the curtain was whipped off our heads, and I yanked my fingers away from Jesse's and looked up to see Paul grinning at me. He offered me his hand, which I gratefully took, and stood to face him. Jesse looked hurt, I was certain, but he didn't look surprised that I hadn't immediately confessed to Paul. I had to force myself to tear my eyes from Jesse and instead fixed them on the gorgeous movie-star-resembling form of my boyfriend.
Boyfriend, Suze. Boyfriend.
"Aw, gee, Suze," Paul said, not looking at Jesse, who was still crouched on the floor, and instead wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me closer to him. "I just can't take you anywhere without causing trouble, can I?" He kissed my neck for a second longer than he should have, obviously rubbing it in Jesse's face. Jesse however, didn't look bothered. Which I guess he shouldn't have, considering we had just made out underneath a curtain.
I had to give it to him, though. Jesse did pick the most creative places in which to kiss me.
"No, Paul," I replied, with one last bewildered look in Jesse's direction. "I guess you can't."
