We hope that this chapter's more satisfying than the last one.

-F&I-

Mildly detached, I watched the blue paint being squeezed out of the bright acrylic tube. After adding a lump of white to the side, Robbie swirled the two colours around on his pallet until they merged to become a pale sky blue. He then started flitting the loaded brush across the wall, fixing delicate highlights to the dress of the girl riding the illustrated unicorn.

I wasn't actually supposed to be at STAB today. The bookstore had almost finished its "renovations" – we were just waiting for Robbie to complete his murals before we could move everything back into the correct places. All the books had been categorised and alphabetised, and Robbie – true to his word – had scored several truckloads of books from his dad. I should have been excited, but I couldn't muster up enough energy.

Mom was giving me the cold shoulder at home. The only place where I didn't feel guilty for being was STAB. If I just said I was "going out," she'd probably assume I was off snorting coke or something. Her opinion of me had plummeted recently. I guess that it was better she thought I was some kind of delinquent than the truth, though. I didn't want her to know what a weak-willed daughter she had. At least delinquents had some kind of cool, reckless zeal for life. I was slowly losing my will to do anything, which was so much worse.

So yeah, the only place that I could be mildly free from the mess that was my life was here. After that awful nightmare I'd had last night, I needed to get out of that house. Robbie's company was strangely pacifying, too. He didn't ask many questions, and his loyalty was absolute.

His creative process was pretty interesting to watch. It wasn't like in the movies where those half-crazy artists paint psychotically with heaps of passion. He was not swilling wine, chain-smoking or throwing his brush across the canvas like some hardcore Jackson Pollock wannabe. Nor was he shirtless – although, even if he was, I doubt there would have been too much going on since Robert Gallagher isn't exactly the response to, "Mirror, mirror on the wall, who's the buffest of them all?"

He still had this sort of…quiet intensity when he painted, though. It was hard to describe. I also liked that he didn't like to talk much as he worked, so it probably startled him when out of the blue, I asked, 'Hey Robbie…do you believe in God?'

His short, skinny arm went still in mid-stroke. Carefully, he put down his brush and pallet and studied me. 'Why do you want to know?' he asked.

I fidgeted with the little flower pendant on my choker. 'Uh, no reason. Just curious.'

He narrowed his eyes at me pensively. 'Do you? Believe in him, I mean.'

'I asked you first.'

He bit his lip, thought for a moment and then quietly replied, 'Yeah, I do. Not in the Christian fundamentalist kinda way. I haven't read the bible or anything, but I do believe in a power greater than myself. And if that's what God is, then yeah, I believe.'

I shrugged. 'Well, that's where I come undone. If there is a God, and he is as nice as my principal makes out all the time, then how can he let all these terrible things happen? Seriously, think about it. The Middle East is in shambles. There's children all over the place that go to bed starving, young girls are…raped. Killers go free while the innocent are thrown into prison. What kind of higher power lets that all happen? It sounds to me like he's sitting in his big cloudy throne with his feet kicked back and he's watching all of this with a bucket of popcorn in his arms as if we're some kind of cable show. It doesn't seem like he's particularly interested in us.'

Robbie moved over to me and hopped up on the counter beside me – quite a feat for someone so short. I tried to hide the emotions behind my reason for even asking all of this, but I think he saw through it.

'I don't think that God does any of those things. It's people that do bad things to each other. To be honest, I don't think that God intervenes that much anyway. I always picture God as…'

He trailed off and then kind of laughed to himself.

'Have you ever read Fantastic Four comics?'

I blinked, completely baffled by this out-of-the-blue question. 'Uh, yeah. Once or twice,' I answered unsurely. 'But I dunno what Johnny Storm has to do with God.'

He grinned, looking a little embarrassed. That didn't stop him from persevering with his point, though. 'Are you familiar with The Watchers?'

'Um.'

'Okay,' he muttered, readjusting himself on the counter so he was sitting cross-legged, facing me. I noticed a smudge of blue paint on his nose and smiled in spite of myself. '…The Watchers, they're like these super omnipotent aliens. Each one is assigned to watch a planet; a civilisation. And that's it. Just watch – not intervene. They don't interfere because they think that if they do, then the civilisation will never advance or achieve anything. They have all this power and can do so much, but they choose to not use it.' He stopped again, and his shy smile returned. 'I know it's probably weird using a comic book to explain God, but I think he's kind of like that. Like the Watchers.'

Keeping my face as straight as I could, I said, 'You do realise that I will never let you live down having a theological debate and citing Fantastic Four references, right?'

He flushed, and smiled that sweet little Robbie-smile and patted my arm softly. 'But seriously, think about it. If God actively participated, what kind of world would we be in? If we never learned how to get ourselves out of these jams? The point is the struggle,' he nodded decidedly, before breaking into a sickly cough.

I frowned in concern, but he was quick to recover.

'Some people struggle more than others, but that doesn't mean that God's cruel or anything. He just believes in us and trusts us to make things right.'

I stared at him quizzically.

Maybe I just wasn't used to having a discussion like this with someone so young. It seemed that Robbie had thought about this a lot.

I envied him for that.

He may have had a persuasive and well thought out proposal, but I still couldn't swallow it just yet. Instead, I just sighed deeply. 'You're lucky,' I murmured. 'You've got it all figured out. I sure as hell don't.'

'Who says we have to have everything figured out?' he countered.

'No one. But it'd be nice.'

He fell silent for a second, just staring at me. He really had the prettiest eyes I'd ever seen on a boy. They were so round…

I let my gaze slide back to his beautiful painting. It was a work in progress and it would take a lot of work until everything turned out okay. But I knew he'd pull it off.

When he finally spoke, his voice had changed completely to one of hesitation.

'Suze…' he began. 'I know that something's wrong for you at the moment. Really wrong. I dunno what, and… I know you probably don't want to tell me. But I want you to know that you're not alone.'

I determinedly looked at his mural.

'If you ever need to…talk, I want to listen,' he said.

I nodded, suddenly not trusting myself to speak.

He was definitely perceptive. He realised pretty quickly that I wanted a moment to myself and promptly hopped down from the counter. 'Anyway, I need to go get some more white paint,' he muttered. 'The painting's pretty dark at the moment. It needs some light.'

'Yep.'

I sounded croaky.

'Want me to get you anything? A Reese's Bar or something?'

I nodded, cracking a smile. 'Okay.'

With a last glance at me, he turned and walked out of STAB. I watched him leave, thinking over everything he'd just told me. It was scary to think that an outsider had an inkling of what was happening to me at the moment. I had to work at becoming more unreadable, otherwise people would be asking left and right if I was okay, which would just make everything so much worse. It was better that people didn't know. Then it wouldn't seem like it was impacting on my life that much.

I wasn't sure how I felt about Robbie knowing. Sure, he didn't know the details, but I'm pretty sure he'd figured out that it had something to do with "the mean guy."

I slid off the counter, looking around the bookstore absently. What was it about this place that made me feel so at peace? Everywhere else I was a wreck. Whenever I was here, I was just...calm. Maybe it was now knowing that the last time I'd been here, I had connected with Jesse. Knowing that he was watching over me some how made me feel – well, not safer, but more certain that I was doing the right thing in trying to protect him and Lily. Jesse certainly was no God, though. He could watch over me as much as he liked – it didn't mean he'd have any power of intervention.

What happened next made me feel like, once again, I was the butt of some higher power's joke.

If there was anyone that could have destroyed the feeling of harmony that the Second Time Around Bookstore offered, it was Paul Slater.

I didn't start trembling at the sight of him, this time. By now, I knew that hell-kissed head of dark curls, that predatory height and those powerful hands. I recognised the horrible lurch in my stomach at his presence. It was his infuriating smirk that killed me every time. I'd always hope to see some shred of honesty in his eyes – some regret and possibly even the intent to call off his whole Faustian deal.

But I knew as soon as I saw his sinister, quirked lips that I wasn't dealing with a human.

'Oh, you're alone,' he said in approval. 'Good.'

I closed my eyes sadly.

Without sight, there was only hearing. The sound of his footsteps coming closer to me was becoming disturbingly familiar. I'd have imagined cheetahs to sound like that before they pounced on their prey, if they had two legs and wore shoes. When I opened my eyes again, he was standing right in front of me. His hands smoothed down my arms to my hips, bringing me nearer to him. Despite his body heat, I'd never felt colder.

'I wanted to talk to you.'

His voice was silky, not the aggressive, breathless voice that I had heard in my dream the night before. Even though I knew it had only been inside my head, I still couldn't shake the feeling that he was going to shove me into a coffin and laugh as he buried me alive. I really wouldn't have put it past him, either.

'You couldn't possibly talk without your hands, could you?' I asked, allowing a calculated amount of rudeness to scratch my words.

He snickered. 'Sorry, but I guess I find a lot more is communicated when I let my hands do the talking. They seem to have a way of letting others know exactly what I want.' This was accompanied by one of his communicators edging up my side, resting on the curve of my breast. My gaze fell sideways. Eye-contact was not an option.

Paul went quiet for a moment, as if expecting me to snap back with some witty retort. Surely he realised that banter belonged to the past, right? I had no will to take part in a battle of sharp words. He'd always win.

Mildly irritated by my lack of cooperation, he dropped his hands all together. 'Anyway, I figured you'd be hanging around this dump again.'

I didn't expect him to notice, but STAB wasn't looking particularly dumpy these days. The lighting was infinitely better and everything was clean and welcoming, from the pastel green of the walls to the newly coated rendered counter. But I didn't argue. Nothing would be good enough for him.

'Okay,' I said. 'What did you want to say then?'

He smirked, not showing any of his teeth. 'I guess I was curious of your behaviour last night.'

I crossed my arms, looking up at him sharply. 'What's that supposed to mean?' I demanded.

'Oh, I don't know,' he rolled his eyes sarcastically. 'How about, acting like you were some poor little martyr or something? I'm sure that Father Dominic's dead girlfriend, being the big girl that she is, could have taken care of herself without you having to act all self-sacrificial. So I suppose I'm questioning your motives for wanting to help a stupid ghost so badly. I mean, in some retarded way, I can understand the case with de Silva. You think you love him. But that one last night... you got nothing out of helping her. So why did you?'

It astounded me that Paul couldn't comprehend the concept of being a good person. He mustn't have realised the suffering and guilt involved in turning your back on someone who needed you. That wasn't just why I was compelled to protect Lily, though. I knew that she didn't deserve what was going to happen to her if I left her at Paul's non-existent mercy.

I shook my head at him. 'The fact that I'd have to explain myself to you just makes you so much more pitiful than I even realised. I did it because I was trying to save someone else from going through what you put me through on a daily basis.'

He tossed his head conceitedly. 'Oh. Right. So it has nothing to do with you trying to pretend that you still hate me then.'

I made a face. 'What? What's there to pretend? Are you saying that I don't have reason to hate you? If so, get your head checked because there's something seriously wrong with you.'

He ignored me. 'I've figured you out, Suze. I'm just here to tell you to stop pretending. Then you won't have to keep saving ghosts in your effort to keep me from knowing the truth. I was sure it'd happen sooner or later – you falling for me, I mean. You're just too proud to admit it. Well, now I know. There's no need to keep up this saint act to save face. I'd much prefer to fuck you without you acting like you hate it, thank you very much.'

Appalled, I just stared at him.

There was no way that he could have convinced himself that that version of events was true, right?

Of all the things I'd expected him to say, it was NOT that. I already knew that his concept of good and evil were severely skewed, but... honestly, I thought he knew me better than to believe that my hatred was a deception. I actually thought he was smarter than that.

Unable to dignify his theory with my correction, I just turned away, not knowing whether to laugh or cry at his terrible delusions.

However, when he spoke again, he wasn't as disdainful as before. There was some weird form of hope in his voice. 'That's it, right?'

I did laugh. It was just so...absurd.

'That's not it,' I corrected him fiercely. 'But you're obviously too stupid to be told anything different, so believe what ever the hell you want. I don't care.'

He growled to himself in anger, as if mentally crossing Theory #5 off of his list.

'Fine,' he snapped.

'If that's all, can you please get out now?' I asked. 'I'm trying to keep this a Paul-free environment.'

'No that's not all,' he replied, clearly agitated. 'I want you to tell your parents that I'm coming over to have dinner with your family tonight. I want people to know about us.'

HUH?

The idea of people thinking that me and Paul were dating made a bucketful of bile want to come spewing out of my mouth. If Adam and CeeCee knew, they'd be revolted. They knew how much I hated Paul from the amount of passionate ranting I did, and if I followed that with the announcement that I was now his girlfriend... I didn't even want to think of how they'd look at me. They knew that Paul was a spoilt rich kid who picked on the younger kids at JSMA for his own private amusement. I knew he was that and so much worse.

I wanted NO public affiliation with him.

'Are you on crack?' I gasped. 'I wouldn't let you come anywhere near my family even if we were all armed with heat-seeking missiles. There is no way you are sharing a whole meal with them. And no one knows about us! Just because you have nothing to be ashamed about, I still have a bit of my pride left.'

He wrinkled his nose. 'And why would any sane girl be embarrassed to have me on their arm?' he wanted to know. He was obviously offended.

'Because hopefully, the sane girls respect themselves enough to know that they deserve better than you,' I spat.

Wow. I did still have some juice left in me.

...I didn't know if I was masochistic or just a retarded, brainless idiot. One would think I would know when to shut up by now. I'd riled him up often enough to know that, while I may be pretty defensive of my pride, his ego lashed back at even the slightest bruise. It had never ended well before, so why did I think that this would be any different?

A fire started.

Realising way too late that I'd pushed his buttons, I staggered backward and dived for the Cup o' Tea room. I probably should have sought somewhere else to hide... I mean, it wasn't as if I could protect myself by pelting cookies from 1937 at him or anything. He was right on my tail, shoving his hand out before I could properly slam the Tea room's door. He forced the door back open which made me fall back. I landed on the dusty ground pretty hard, grazing my elbows in a nasty case of carpet burn. He seized my arms and pinned me against the wall, jolting me violently.

'Paul!' I yelled, 'Stop it! N-not here – '

'Yes, here,' he said acidly, shaking me again. His eyes were murderous. 'Here, and anywhere I want. You forget that I call the shots, Suze. I say what I want, and you provide. That's how a deal like this works. And I could really live without all your stupid little comments, too – '

I tried to scratch his face only he dodged me, shoving my wrists against the wall. I then tried kicking, but he came to stand between my legs so I could no longer move. I writhed beneath him furiously, swearing filthily at him. This was not happening. In his room, it had felt so secluded – so surreal. Now, he was trying to defile a place that I held dear. I didn't want the Bookstore to be polluted with memories of him forcing me to –

'No,' he snapped, slapping my face hard as I tried to spit at him. He panted hard against my neck. 'Stop moving...' He hooked his thumb in the belt loop of my jeans. He was just trying to assert his power again. I'd embarrassed him, and I was going to pay for it.

But before anything could be torn off, a horrified, shrill yell made us both go completely still.

I whipped my head around and saw Robbie standing in the doorway, a tube of paint and a candy bar clutched in his hand. He dropped them, shocked at the sight that lay before his eyes. My eyes widened as I realised one of my worst fears was coming true – everything about me and Paul was being revealed...

'Fuck off, kid,' Paul grunted at Robbie, glaring. I tried to use the distraction to get away, but Paul just slammed me back against the wall again. My heart was wild from the assault as well as the discovery. The boy was cemented to the spot.

Then, he said something that astonished everyone present, including himself.

'...N-no,' he stuttered. 'You g-get away from her, n-now.'

Paul laughed furiously, and asked me, 'Is he for real?' Then, before I could blink, Paul had shoved me to the floor and had launched himself at Robbie. The little guy, realising that Paul's six feet of muscle was probably not going to do him much good, fled backward with a cry of shock. Paul seized him by the collar of his shirt, arched his fist back and then punched him squarely in the nose.

The crunch was deafening. Splatters of blood landed on the wall and floor as Robbie crumbled to the ground, holding his face in pain.

'Dumb-ass little punk,' Paul sneered in disgust. 'Get the hell out of here.'

'Duze,' he moaned.

'Robbie, go,' I held back a woeful, enraged rush of tears. My terrible secret was hurting people...

Paul, quite convinced that he'd dealt with the sandy-haired interruption, turned his attention back to me. He didn't expect to be jumped from behind and bashed in the head with a monster of a book. Paul roared as he went down.

Robbie scrambled over to me and tried to help me up. Blood was streaming down his face from his nostrils, recolouring his shirt as every second passed. However, Paul grabbed his ankle and yanked him to the ground.

He got up, humiliation burning in his icy eyes. 'Who the hell do you think you are?' he demanded, kicking the boy's kneecap. Robbie howled.

'PAUL!' I screamed piercingly. 'GET OUT!'

He stopped, staring at me and then looking back to Robbie. With an uncomfortable twitch, he stepped back. 'Just...tell your parents you've invited me over for dinner Suze,' he said with finality. His voice was much quieter now. '...We're done here.'

And then he was gone.

Panicking, I crawled over to Robbie who was almost crying in pain. 'Oh my God,' I whimpered, my hands shaking terribly, 'Robbie, are you okay?'

'My dose ih broke,' he said gingerly, holding his nose in one hand and his knee with the other. 'Are you oday?'

'I'm fine,' I gushed emotionally, trying not to start crying in front of him. 'I'm so sorry, sweetie... I can't believe he – '

'Cab I go ta hobbitle?' he wanted to know. 'Buh don tell mamum...'

I couldn't help it. I burst into tears. 'Of course...I'm sorry...oh my God, I'm so sorry – '

He tried to get up on his own, but I wouldn't let him. I slid his free arm around my shoulders and hoisted him into a standing position. 'Can you walk?'

'I'b all right,' he promised. 'Dobe worry...'

We spilled out of the bookstore and I finally got him into my car. I was so upset, and I couldn't stop shaking. Sounding dejected, he informed me that he'd "goh budd on deh carseab" and I frantically assured him that it SO didn't matter.

After telling the nurse in Emergency that I'd accidentally knocked him in the nose in our workplace, I waited as she inspected it unsurely. I wasn't sure if she believed be, judging from how terrible his nose looked and how hysterical I was, but she didn't pursue it. Instead, she told Robbie she needed to know his mom's phone number.

He freaked out, but after being told that they couldn't help him as much as necessary without his mom being informed, he defeatedly surrendered the number.

I won't even tell you how horrible that confrontation was, either. When Mrs Gallagher finally showed up in Emergency, well... okay, I've never been yelled at like that before. I was in floods when she told me to get the hell away from her son. I left the hospital miserably, hating Paul…

-F&I-

'So when's your friend coming around?' Mom asked me in a would-be casual voice. She was trying to start conversation, which I guess is kind of commendable since we'd barely spoken. As Paul had ordered, I'd told my parents that I'd be bringing a "friend" for dinner. Andy expressed his annoyed surprise that I was actually going to show up for dinner this time. Mom had just sniffed at me.

'I don't know,' I shrugged, carefully avoiding the use of his name, or any masculine pronouns. While I'd give anything for an excuse as to why Mom and Andy wouldn't allow Paul to enter their house, I'd weighed up the consequences of not doing what he said. Robbie's shattered nose was just a taste of what'd happen if I got too cocky.

'Oh,' Mom replied frostily. 'Okay then.'

'Yeah.'

All evidence of tears had been fixed by the reapplication of my trusty make-up, and I'd been forced to change because Robbie's blood was smeared over my other clothes. Now, I wore a black tank top and jeans. I didn't want anyone to know what was happening. Hopefully, it'd just be a normal dinner, only slightly marred by the presence of pure evil.

It was six-thirty. Dinner was due to start on the hour, and Brad hadn't even gotten home from Kelly Prescott's house yet. Andy was busying himself with dinner – an all out roast. I just sat quietly on the couch across from Mom. We both watched TV, not saying a word. I had no idea what show I was watching. I just didn't want anyone to talk to me unless absolutely necessary.

My eyes were trained on the clock. At precisely twelve minutes to seven o'clock, the doorbell rang. I hoped that it was Brad, home finally from his brothel – us Ackerman/Simon kids were supposed to show up half an hour before dinner – but since when have I ever been so fortunate?

Mom went to answer the door. I heard the soft gasp of surprise.

'Oh, uh, hey Mrs. Ackerman,' that stuttering-charmingly-in-all-the-right-places voice swam sickly through the air. 'I hope I'm not late...I'm Paul Slater, Suze's guest. Oh, these are for you by the way...'

Another gasp sounded from my mother. 'My, they're lovely... thank you – er, Paul.'

I twisted around in my seat furiously, just in time to see Mom walking from the entrance with a colourful bouquet of flowers. My mouth fell open in horror. That was when I realised that no, this was not going to be a pleasant evening. Paul followed behind my cheerful mother, radiating with the "nice guy" vibe. He was dressed in dark jeans and a casual button down navy shirt, looking even more like eye candy than ever. I realised this had worked just as he'd planned when I noticed the flush in my mother's cheeks. He caught sight of me, and his humble expression slid off of his face like oil, replaced with a deeply satisfied smirk.

He was going to make this night hell.

I launched out of my chair. I wasn't leaving him alone with my parents for a second. Who knew the damage he'd do? Once in the kitchen, I saw Paul graciously offering my Mom his help with setting the table. Mom refused, but Paul insisted – he gently tugged the placemats out of her hands and made his way to the dining table in the adjoining room.

'Seven place settings Mrs Ackerman?' he called unsurely.

'Yes, Paul,' Mom smiled. 'You really don't have to...'

Then her eyes fell on me. 'Get in there and help him!' she hissed, shoving the cutlery tray at me and smacking me on the backside. I rushed into the dining room, my eyes feral with infuriation.

'What are you doing?' I mouthed at Paul, irate. He looked up at me innocently. 'Sorry? I didn't catch that Suze.'

I glanced around suspiciously in case anyone was eavesdropping. When I was sure the coast was clear, I leant across the table as ominously as I could. 'If you think you're going to suck up to my mother, you are so wrong. She'll see straight through you.'

His face once again broke into a fantastically evil grin. 'We'll see about that.'

I was so angry. I slammed the knives and forks down on either side of the place settings. 'I swear, if you even – '

'DINNER'S READY!' Andy yodelled throughout the Ackerman residence.

Paul promptly went back into the kitchen to help Andy and my Mom carry everything. I sat down at the end of the table, hoping to avoid sitting right beside him. This was terrible. Why had I even agreed to this? I had no idea he'd...oh God, this was bad.

David and Jake came down from their respective lairs and took their usual places at the eight-seater. When my parents and Paul came back into the room carrying the roasted lamb, potatoes, vegetables and the bowl of Caesar salad, my step-brothers just stared curiously.

'Hey,' Paul said, nodding at Sleepy coolly.

'Paul Slater?' Jake quirked an eyebrow. 'You're in my sister's class, right?'

'Yeah,' Paul nodded. He set the lamb down in the centre of the table before looking around the table as if wondering where to sit. Mom caught sight of him and snapped at me, 'Suze, move to somewhere else – you don't want Paul sitting on his own, do you?'

'I think he'll be fine,' I said through gritted teeth.

'I'd much prefer it if...' Paul murmured, before shaking his head and smiling grandly in false recovery. 'I mean, no, that's fine, Suze can sit where she likes.'

'Suze!' Mom snapped. 'Swap with David, now.'

Bitterly, I exchanged places with David. Paul sat down beside me, whispering loudly, 'I'm really sorry if I got you in trouble, Suze...'

'Don't worry,' Mom replied, overhearing. 'Suze has been a grouch lately.'

Paul laughed appreciatively.

'Shut up, Mom,' I groaned. I knew what Paul was doing now: he was getting her on side.

'Suze,' Andy grumbled, restraining himself since we had a guest. He didn't like any of us kids disrespecting his wife. 'Manners, please.'

Everyone had sat down, except for Dopey. I found myself gleeful that he was late – it'd take some of the sting out of how badly behaved I was apparently acting. Andy wouldn't let us eat until he showed up. In the meantime, he began conversation.

'So, Paul, how do you know Suze?'

Jake interrupted, pleased to know this answer, 'Suze babysat his brother that summer when she was working at the Pebble Beach Hotel. Now I know where I remember you from,' he added, eyeing Paul in recognition.

'Really?' Mom sounded pleased. 'Oh, well that's nice.'

Jake wasn't done though. 'Didn't you get all pissed when you asked my sister out and she said no?' he asked, frowning.

Oh, GO JAKE!

Paul's face went blank in awkward shock. 'Uh... I'm pretty sure that wasn't me, Jake.'

My eldest step-brother stared at Paul a moment longer, before shrugging dismissively. 'Whatever.'

As soon as no one was looking at him, Paul flipped Jake off angrily. When Doc looked back toward him, Paul pretended to be scratching his nose. I could only watch the awful scene unfold, completely powerless to stop this nightmare. 'Paul,' I whispered under my breath, 'Please...'

'What do you mean you haven't told them?' he replied loudly, as if responding to a threat I'd just made to him. He cast my suddenly alert parents an apologetic look. 'Wow, this is awkward,' he laughed, innocent. 'I was sure that Suze had told you we were dating.'

...He didn't.

Oh my God.

He totally did.

Mom's eyebrows shot up into her curly auburn hair. 'What?' she asked sharply from the other end of the table, her eyes snatching me up. 'You are?'

'No – ' I spluttered, shooting a fierce glare at the boy sitting to my right, but Paul just sighed. 'Suze, I kept telling you to just tell them. You really need to start being honest with your Mom, you know.'

My face was the pinnacle of deer-caught-in-headlights. My throat had closed completely, and I just stared in absolute shock at Paul.

Mom said moodily, 'He's very right, Suze. What else you're keeping from me, I'm frightened to know. First Jesse, and now – '

Paul blinked at that name, looking quickly at my mother. 'Did you say Jesse?' he asked.

'No,' I half-shouted, but Mom nodded. 'Yes – do you know him?'

He allowed a dark look to cloud his face. 'I did,' he muttered atmospherically, as if remembering that name caused him some kind of pain. 'I really didn't approve of him... especially the way he treated Suze. Way too old for her. Plus, he had the mouth of a sailor. I'm just glad him and his dead-beat dad skipped town when they did.'

I buried my face in my hands, dying a million gory deaths. This wasn't happening.

'Oh, really,' Andy regarded with a disgruntled tone. 'Well, in that case, I'm glad Suze has cleaned up her act and has found someone decent.'

Paul grinned, laughing modestly. 'Oh, I'm not all that great. But at least I know how to treat a girl right, unlike that other guy...'

Disgusted, I shot him a sideways glance. He wasn't even looking at me though. He was smiling contently into nothingness. I resurfaced from my hand-made shelter and looked around miserably. Doc was staring at me curiously, frowning occasionally at Paul. Oh, I hoped to God that he wasn't been fooled by Paul's bullshit.

The front door slammed, and Brad stumbled into the dining room, looking really ticked off. 'Sorry I'm late,' he grunted at his father before – and I'm not even joking – farting. Mom's eyes flew open. 'Bradley,' she hissed, horrified. 'We have company, if you didn't notice.'

Bemused, Brad looked around the table. When his gaze landed on Paul, he just gawked. 'Slater?' he demanded. 'What are you doing here?'

'Hey Brad,' Paul acknowledged, careful to not appear too chummy with him, only to be shot down. It was well known at school that Brad was pretty jealous of Paul's popularity and money – and the fact that he'd gotten in on the Kelly action the minute he'd asked her out.

Looking almost as furious as me, Brad sat down opposite me, positively livid at the thought of opening his home to Paul Slater. Andy – who was sitting beside him – whispered what looked like words of warning. Brad immediately cooled it, but only just.

Everyone started eating. Mom kept on asking Paul loads of questions about his family and how he was doing at school. I remained relatively mute for the whole meal. No one noticed – they were all transfixed by the great guy that I'd bagged. Paul told jokes that had my mum giggling uncontrollably – jokes that were as clean as a freshly washed laundry. I just scowled to myself, only acting cheerful when I was asked a question.

'Captain of the Tennis team?' Mom sounded impressed. 'Wow. Why didn't Suze join the Tennis team?'

'I suck,' I assured Mom.

'She doesn't,' Paul argued merrily. 'I kept trying to get her to join, but she's so stubborn.'

'Don't we know it,' Mom rolled her eyes, laughing at my expense.

'I remember one time,' Paul began, as if trying to hold back laughter, 'Suze was walking home on a scorching day, and she just refused to get in the car with me.' Realising that I got yelled at less if I just held my tongue, I allowed him to continue the story.

However, that was when I felt his hand slide between my legs under the table. My eyes widened and I looked at Paul in alarm. He was still recounting his tale animatedly. 'I think I called her a brat – big mistake,' he grinned. 'It just made her even madder.'

I hid my eyes, trying to not reveal this secret violation. His fingers fiddled quickly with the button of my jeans until his fingers sank further into my pants. He stroked my thighs and I shivered horribly.

'Paul – ' I said, breathless.

'What?' he turned, looking directly into my eyes.

I saw a lot in that look. At first glance, there was the humble, happy good guy that my family was seeing. Beneath that though, triumph cackled back at me fiercely. He was winning this dreadful game. He dared me to tell them where his hand was...what it was doing to me, and how it was making me feel. I just tried to breathe. My gaze silently begged him to stop humiliating me, but he only stroked harder, moving into a place that was even more dangerous.

I gasped, looking away. 'Uh...nothing...' I panted, wiping my hand down my face.

'Are you okay, Suze?' Andy checked, staring at me with concern. 'Your face has gone all red.'

I pressed my fist over my mouth, nodding quickly. Paul's fingers moved even more forcefully, triggering that most hated desire once again. Above the table, everything was as merry as Christmas. Beneath, shrouded by the table cloth on the other hand, was a whole other story. The conversation continued on and Paul wouldn't stop torturing me. I was gripping the table so hard that my knuckles shone starkly white. My knees were shaking, and I couldn't breathe. I tried to muffle my panting by drinking water, but that only made me choke.

Paul laughed along with my family – Brad excluded – but I knew that that amusement was for me. He was enjoying this thoroughly...making me literally squirm right here in front of my family while they knew nothing. They thought he was this golden boy that had come into their troubled daughter's life and was gonna get it on the right track again. I bit back a cry of miserable pleasure, biting down hard on my tongue.

And then, just as I was about to explode, Paul finally withdrew his hand. I squeezed my thighs together, horrified at what I must have looked like to my parents.

'Um,' I whispered raspily, 'I just need to go to the bathroom...'

Mom frowned. 'Hurry,' she said in a hard voice.

I nodded, holding my head and staggering from the room. I climbed upstairs somehow, and once I was finally out of everyone's earshot, I collapsed onto my bed, shaking from a combination of mortification, hatred and...something else entirely.

Lily – I mean Alice – was already in my room. She looked at me inquisitively. 'Oh my, are you okay? You look terrible, Suze.'

'I – ' I gasped, but there was a knock on my door.

'Just a second, I'm – I'm coming,' I shouted hysterically, clenching every muscle in my body to make the terrible aching heat go away.

'I'll bet,' came the soft, amused reply.

I sat up, terrified. Alice's expression went blank. 'Is that…?'

'Go away!' I moaned, holding my face in agony. I felt so, so hot and I couldn't escape this maddening desire that was pounding fiercely below my stomach, screaming for attention.

I knew he couldn't come in here – he'd get blasted back if he tried.

'Come on, Suze,' he laughed, careful not to talk too loudly. 'Come back downstairs. Or are you finishing off?'

Appalled at this, I jammed my eyes shut against the terrible force inside. 'I hate you so damned much…' I whined pitifully.

'Oh well,' he said, 'I guess I could go talk to your mother some more – '

I was off that bed faster than you could say "OVER MY DEAD BODY." I yanked my bedroom door open, breathing heavily. 'Don't you dare – '

'Whoa,' Paul smirked smarmily down at me. 'I sure did a number on you, didn't I…'

I went to shove him, but instead he seized my wrists and pulled me out of my room – and out of safety. White electricity buzzed at the bedroom doorway as if aware of Paul's presence and ready to zap should he even think of entering. But Paul led me instead to our guestroom before shutting and locking the door. I gotta say, I didn't put up too much of a fight. All my energy was focused elsewhere, refusing to dwindle.

He sat me down on the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of me sympathetically. 'Don't worry,' he assured me with a smile, 'I'll make you feel better…'

And after tugging down my pants and underwear, he did.

I seized a pillow and tried to smother my cries. My skin burned with intense humiliation. My legs pulled his shoulders further against me. I couldn't blame them…they knew what the needed, and they were desperate to escape this painful limbo. He kissed me vigorously, making my body go rock hard for a few mind-massacring moments before everything went completely black.

The screaming within my body had finally been silenced. I went slack against the mattress.

The pillow was plucked away from my face and Paul was staring down at me, his pale eyes glittering in satisfaction. I just panted in response, unable to form words after…that.

'Better?' he wanted to know.

'You…asshole…' I barely managed.

Even by the time he was downstairs, I could still hear him laughing.

After sliding back into my clothes, I dissolved into tears of clenching shame.

-F&I-

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