I HAVE A BEESTING! Owww...it hurts and it's itchy - any tips, Children of the Night?

Darn bees . . . think they're SO cute, then BAM! Big red swollen lump of vemon!

Sigh.

Can SOMEONE tell Stephanie to WAKE UP? I swear, if I get a dollar for everytime she falls asleep while I'm writing to her, then I'll be a rich girl, la dah dee dah dah dah do . . .

Lolly, bee-stung.

By lunchtime, I still hadn't been to any classes. I wasn't in the best condition ever, still frazzled and paranoid from Rhys Miller's threatening words of intended femicide. What made it even more daunting, was knowing that he was here at school with me. Anytime he wanted, he could be leering at me, staring at other girls, and calculating ways to make them victims of his sick religious bloodlust.

Sitting with Jesse in the graveyard for most of the day had greatly calmed me down. I'd been a mess once more. It was as if Miller's words had a cursing affect on me; they chilled me to no end and made me feel dead. It was as if his words gave me a horrifying taste of what he'd done to all those other girls before me . . .

Jesse was seated by me now, in the courtyard. I could hear gulls squawking angrily in demand for stray food. Class had just been let out; the increase of chattering and laughing was a perfect indicator of this.

'I feel horrible,' I said woozily. Indeed I did - my blood was thudding loudly past my temples and my throat was completely parched.

'Have you eaten anything today, Susannah?' Jesse asked quite sharply, 'You look awfully pale.'

'I don't feel like eating,' I vaguely murmured, resting my head against the bricks behind me. I could feel the roughness clearly through my hair. While awkward, it felt strangely comforting in its sturdiness.

'Susannah, you must eat something. I do not want you to lose your consciousness,' he sounded firm. 'Come now, you need something to sustain you. Not to mention, you're scared, something that can't be helping you - '

'Suze!'

My head twitched slightly, and I frowned. CeeCee had just called my name. I straightened myself, and then felt her sitting right beside me - namely, in Jesse. It was the strangest feeling, to have Jesse holding my hand one moment, and then for another hand to travel through his hand to grab it. I jerked back a little, and both hands released my own.

'Whoa,' CeeCee whispered suddenly, 'Cold spot . . . yeesh, heebie jeebies . . . '

Jesse, not sounding too jazzed by the fact that someone had just passed through him, said stiffly, 'I'll leave you to talk, Susannah.'

I nodded as discreetly as I could, while CeeCee launched into a million and one questions about earlier that day.

'Where were you in class, Suze? You missed so much! What on earth did Father Dom want with you, for that long? Jeez, you look God-awful at the moment, Suze . . . do not tell me that you still haven't eaten anything! Why are - '

'Wow,' I raised my hands, surrendering, 'Not so fast . . . ' I could barely concentrate on one of her questions, let alone all of them. 'What is it with people wanting to force-feed me today, anyway?'

CeeCee reprimanded thinly, 'Oh, so I'm not the only one that's told you how completely stupid it is to skip meals? Good then. Someone else has some intelligence that you are obviously lacking. Hey - ' she paused, took a deep breath, and yelled, 'ADAM! Over here!'

I heard jolly sounding footsteps. 'Hello, ladies and CeeCee!' Adam announced after a moment, 'Wow, Suze. Joining the Pale-Skinned Club with CeeCee, I see. You should start campaigning for more members, and then set your next goal as world domination - oi! Excuse me, Webb, but I was about to EAT that!'

A sandwich was shoved into my hand. 'Eat it, Suze. You're about to pass out or something.'

My stomach turned slowly and forebodingly. 'I'd rather - '

'If you don't eat that sandwich, I'll see to it that you regret it,' Cee warned, her voice dipping low.

I started chewing hurriedly, my eyes wide.

'Suze, baby,' Adam cooed, 'Anorexia's not the way to go. This school severely lacks hotties, and if you ruin the standing Hot Chick quota: one, then I'll take matter's into my own hands . . . '

'I'm not anorexic!' I denied hotly through a mouthful of bread. It sounded more like, "Ih mogh agga-reb-hick!"

CeeCee laughed. 'That's better.'

'What's in it?' I asked, feeling quite put off by the taste of been-in-the-sun-all-day ham in my mouth.

'Aaah,' Adam professed philosophically, 'The question, my child, is, what's not in it.'

'Uh,' I pulled the sandwich away from my mouth doubtfully.

'It's okay,' Adam assured me quickly. 'I may be no Andy Ackerman in the kitchen, but I can at least make a decent sandwich.'

'Beg to differ,' CeeCee snorted.

'Offend me not, lowly pond scum!' he yelled triumphantly. 'I be the greatest bad sandwich maker in all the Salinas!'

Still cautious, I continued munching on the ham sandwich. CeeCee was irritatingly correct - I felt a lot better. My stomach, although rejecting the ferocious taste, welcomed the sustenance gratefully.

'Adam,' CeeCee said, 'In all attempts to be subtle . . . get lost now.'

I laughed softly.

'You steal my lunch, and then tell me to take a hike?' his voice wept of mortal wounds, 'I feel so used!'

'A feeling generally associated with being used,' CeeCee clapped him somewhere - probably on the back, since the resulting noise sounded quite hollow, 'Suze and I need to talk.'

I blinked urgently. 'We do?'

'Say the word, Simon, and I'll save you from a fate worse than death,' Adam hissed. 'She goes by the name of Cow - '

'SHUT UP!' CeeCee exploded.

'Hah,' Adam chuckled. 'Suze isn't privy to your middle name then, is she? Namely, Olivia. Hence, having initials spelling "COW" - '

'Piss off!' CeeCee shouted, and I heard a thump and a squeal of pain. Laughing very hard, Adam walked away with an indistinct, 'Moooooooooooo . . . '

'Wow,' I grinned sleepily. 'Cow? That's . . . very unfortunate.'

CeeCee sounded sour. 'We will never speak of this again.'

It's weird . . . almost every word out of Cee's and Adam's mouth was like . . . dramatic? As in, anything they said was completely in jest - CeeCee wasn't really offended by Adam, and Adam knew the humorous side of getting kicked in the whatever by CeeCee in response to him insulting her.

It was fun listening to them, because no matter how ugly it sounded, it was all for a laugh at the end of the day. I liked being part of that relationship. I really liked it.

So even though Cee's tone was bitter, I knew she personally loved Adam teasing her.

'Right,' CeeCee sighed, 'Alone at last.'

'Don't do anything kinky now,' I warned her.

'I'll try to restrain myself,' she replied jokily, before adopting a very serious tone. 'Suze . . . I want you to tell me what's going on. You need to - '

However, that was when a siren rang, signifying the end of lunchtime. CeeCee swore. 'Great,' she grumbled. 'Hey . . . look - '

I can't.

' - Do you wanna . .. I dunno, come for a sleep over tonight or something? It's a Friday - mum won't care.'

I brightened up a little, stuffing the last of the demonic sandwich in my mouth. I hadn't ever been invited over to someone's house before, save Gina. No one else had ever really been interested to . . . you know, have me over in the friend sense.

'You serious?' I tried not to sound too pleased.

'No,' Cee drawled sarcastically, 'I was just practicing my English.' She laughed dryly. 'Yes, Simon. I'm serious. You in?'

'Sure,' I grinned. 'I - uh, my mum won't, um, care either.'

Liar.

Coughing awkwardly, I restated, 'I mean, she probably will. Knowing her, she has a manual prepared for this sort of thing that she gives to each of your family members. You sure you're ready for this type of commitment?'

'I'll pick you up at five,' she said quickly. 'Gotta go - Chemistry's now . . . '

Her footsteps powered away.

Smiling cheerfully, I pulled my legs so they were cross-legged on the bench. I could hear water trickling peacefully, now that all the students had made their ways to class. There were still a few stray voices, but that was it.

I heard a sprinkle of materialisation beside me, but knew immediately that it was not Rhys Miller. Albeit, it was not my FIRST preference of company, but I wasn't going to be too picky.

'Hey Simon,' Paul greeted drearily.

I half-smiled. 'Hi . . .'

He didn't say anything for a moment. I absentmindedly fished my Hall-Pass out of my pocket, and started running my fingers along the edges of the paper.

I narrowed my eyes, as if squinting to see something. I wasn't . . . but it felt comforting to do the action, as if I did have something to see . . .

'What does this say?' I asked Paul in a soft voice. He removed the paper from my fingers boredly. 'It says, "Susannah has my permission to be absent from classes on this day. She has received bad news of the personal nature, and isn't feeling well." Father Dom's signed it.'

'Oh,' I nodded. 'Okay then.'

He fell silent again, sighing randomly. 'Remind me never to die,' he broke previously-mentioned silence after a few seconds of it. 'This state, it's - it's unbearable. I can barely do anything. I can't sleep, can't eat . . . '

Sounds like love, huh.

Or obsession.

'I'm sorry,' I mumbled to Paul. 'It must be horrible . . . '

'Hmm. I feel safer being dead than being a brunette chick at the moment, though,' he reasoned.

'You're not dead,' I told him.

'Feel it,' he replied glumly.

I pulled my knees against my chest, and breathed out heavily. Paul was stuck between life and death, at the moment . . . not living, but not a ghost. He was just in between; neither one. As if his body were in a coma.

Nope. Instead it had to get possessed. Lucky Paul, huh?

No better than what almost happened to my body while I was astral projecting . . .

'Hey,' I remembered something suddenly, 'Jesse and I are not sleeping together.'

Sounding a little bitter, he whispered, 'Yeah. Right. You're just playing Twister, right? In your bed. Half naked.'

'No,' I shook my head, 'Really. We were just - '

However, my honest denials, which were starting to become a little more heated, were interrupted by Jesse's materialisation. I know, because I sensed his presence, and it made my heart skip.

See? Fifth sense. Who needs sight, these days?

'I'll go now,' Paul muttered. 'Just yell if that sick bastard comes anywhere near you, and I'll - ' he trailed off. 'Just yell.'

'Hey,' I stood up, 'Wait - '

He was gone, though.

I didn't know why, but I felt weird letting him leave with that mistaken impression of my sex-life - hah, lack thereof. It was kind of disturbing that he thought he knew things; things that weren't true. I didn't want him to be wrong on the whole Jesse-bedding-Suze front. I mean . . . creepy, and made me feel uneasy.

Shaking away my nerves, I turned back to Jesse. 'Where'd you go?' I asked, licking my tips, which were kind of dry from stress.

'Following our asesino,' Jesse replied darkly. In response to my blank look, he elaborated. 'I mean, murderer.'

Another chill trickled across my skin, like dribbles of ice-cold water.

Once again, Jesse had taken what Rhys Miller really was, and had reinforced it with concrete in my mind, unintentionally increasing my fear of the man.

I swallowed apprehensively.

'I was doing . . . recon, as you called it,' Jesse added affectionately.

Reconnaissance - gathering information about an enemy to ensure his downfall.

I had a feeling we're going to need a LOT more than just information, to ensure the downfall of Rhys Miller. He was more vicious than I could have imagined.

I just never dreamed that he'd go after the people I loved . . .

- 8 -

Mum said I could go.

To CeeCee's I mean. I was all thinking that she'd be madly against the idea, but she was actually really chuffed that I'd made really good friends. Yeah, because my mother has NO faith in my social life.

She helped me pack my stuff to sleep over, and then left me to have a shower. Sure to turn the cold water on predominantly, I started rinsing myself thoroughly, losing my mind to the chill of the water.

Recollections weaved their wicked way back into my mind, as Rhys Miller's words began repeating themselves. His intentions, his threats . . .

What he said to Jesse, however, had been one of the creepiest things. You know, with the whole owning-me thing. It made me feel like I was falling forward violently; like my throat had closed up, all in the split second that I wondered if what he'd said about Jesse thinking that was true.

Then I remembered Jesse.

. . . No way.

After getting out of the shower, I got dressed in some tight jeans and a fitted cotton top of some description: mum's choice.

'Jesse?' I called out, standing in the doorway of my bathroom.

'Yes,' he replied. I breathed out in relief. I didn't like being alone . . .

'What time is it?' I asked him. He revealed that it was almost four o'clock. I ran my hands through my hair, and sighed out tiredly. I felt a lot fresher. Cold showers can do wonders like that. Walking the seven steps to my bed, I flopped on it tiredly, face-down. Jesse came down beside me, and laughed gently. 'Breathe, Susannah.'

Always full of good advice . . .

Rotating so I was on my back, I rested my head on his shoulders. I still had over an hour until I had to be at CeeCee's . . . I could spend a little happy-time with Jesse, right? I mean, as long as we didn't commit any mortal sins against God, or even scarier, Father Dominic, we'd be fine. Right?

Yeah. It was just a matter of controlling myself, now.

I had plenty of control.

. . . Not.

'I . . . I want to show you something,' I whispered to him. He was running his fingers down my back, making the skin there tingly with delight.

'Hmm?'

'Uh,' I said, 'Just . . . move away from me a bit.'

Confused, he obliged slowly. As if, you know, he didn't WANT to. Move away from me, I mean . . . oh, goodie.

After he had, I thought back to that moment in Paul's class. I tried to remember his instructions. To, you know, not think of anything except what the objective was. Feel myself lifting away. Gentle thoughts, nothing too hasty . . . or it wouldn't happen.

The sensation of levitating dusted over my body. I closed my eyes tighter, concentrating. A little bit more . . .

'Nombres de Dios,' Jesse murmured in awe. 'Susannah, how - '

And with that, I sat up. Well . . . I almost did. You see, yeah, not all of me came up.

Just my soul.

My body was still resting beneath me. Unconscious. In a comatose state, according to Paul. It wouldn't wake up until I jumped back in there. If I didn't . . . um, well . . . never mind. Hopefully, I'd manage to keep any ghosties from jumping in MY body.

I smiled brightly at something in particular. I was wincing my eyes against this flood of light. I knew light to dark now. And this was most definitely light. There was something darker standing in front of it. It looked something like Paul. You know . . . tall, with arms, legs and a head. I counted the arms. Two of them.

Except the shirt this person was not wearing was certainly not green. If I was not mistaken, it was . . . what was the colour again?

Oh yeah. White. That's it.

I tried walking with my eyes open, but it proved to be very hard, since all I could look at was the light. It was very distracting. I squinted.

'Querida?' Jesse said, suddenly in shock. 'You're not . . . no, you can't be - '

After making my way shakily over to him, despite the light that was coming from behind him, I kind of landed in his arms, smiling.

'Hi,' I said.

Jesse's mouth was black. And round. I think it was open. But I've only seen Paul's mouth open a bit. So I wasn't sure. But I knew from knowledge that my OWN mouth went open when I was shocked.

Or if Paul asked me to open it . . . but we won't go into that.

'Surprise,' I said weakly.

'Dios . . . ' Jesse blinked. He BLINKED. I saw him BLINK.

TEEHEE!

Finally . . . I'd get to know him. Understand him, by touch and sight. He'd me mine, totally. My complete memory – one that would belong to me through all my six senses.

Touch, smell, feeling, taste – kissing, people, nothing else – sensing, and seeing . . . finally . . .

I wasn't sure about what was in front of me. I recognised some of the features on his face. They still confused me . . . how they kept on moving, and the different "expressions" that he wore, as Paul called them. I wasn't sure what his expression was now. I didn't understand it. I wanted to. He wasn't quite smiling. His lips weren't curved up. They might have been - I would have known if I'd touched them - but I was trying to guess the answers first this time.

'You can see me,' Jesse echoed in amazement. 'How? This . . . do you know what you see?'

'No,' I replied. I looked downwards, and saw a dark colour which I HOPED was my window seat. I nudged it with my foot; it was. 'But I want to get to know what I see.'

THAT was when he smiled. I saw the distinct upward curve of his lips. That made me smile too. With that, I pulled both of us down on the seat, before my fingers could take it no longer - in ecstatic curiosity, they went straight to his lips, drinking in the wondrous feel of his smile, and loving how much it made me smile to feel that he was glad that I was seeing him.

And all over again, I started tracing my fingers over his face, studying the pictures and piecing them together to create an IMAGE rather than just separate items that made up a face. His eyes, his nose, his lips, his ears, his chin, his eyebrows, his . . . his scar.

His eyes were a colour that was near brown. It might have been brown. Paul told me that there were different shades of brown, meaning that it was basically the same colour, except sometimes it was lighter, sometimes it was darker than the colour I thought I knew. It was darker than my hair; that was all I knew.

My fingers were trembling a little. I wasn't sure why. I could feel his knee against mine.

'What's that light?' I asked, once again squinting behind him. 'It's hurting my eyes . . . '

Jesse, sounding protective, apologised - for reasons beyond me - and I heard curtains dropping, which I guess was the explanation for the sudden downward movement of the striking colours behind Jesse. The light was gone now, and I could open my eyes properly.

Once my hands had completely stolen the secrets from his face, they dragged to his hair as I drank in all the images. I didn't really understand most of them, but I appreciated how new they were to me all the same. Jesse's nose, by that time, was brushing against mine, and his hands were on my lower back. I couldn't see the lightness of his eyes. I guess that meant that his eyes were closed.

I wasn't clear why until I heard a noise come from him. As if he was enjoying me touching his hair like that; all slow, and . . . leisurely.

I smiled at that. I could feel breath on my face, so gentle and so warm. My skin was getting hot. I think another cold shower would be in order, later . . . I felt like closing my eyes again, to savour the moment with darkness, but I didn't. That would have been TOTALLY beside the point of this little exercise.

My curious fingers, having finished on his hair, slid down till they were on his chest. The material of his shirt was still there. I didn't want it to be. So while I was very scared to, my fingers curled a little so they were dragging the fabric back.

'Querida . . . ' he said against my face. Not like he wanted me to stop. Just like he meant the word.

Whatever the hell it meant . . . he still wouldn't tell me exactly. Term of endearment? Yeah, which ONE exactly?

Trying to steady my breathing before I embarrassed myself, I continued pulling on the edge of his shirt, until it would fall no more. I looked down, and saw a mess of light shades. I discovered that these were laces that tied the shirt up. Very small ones. My hands set to work on them, pulling them out expertly - YEAH, BECAUSE I DID THIS ALL THE TIME.

And then, his shirt was open, and I was just staring.

Taking it all in.

I wasn't sure if I was supposed to react with "wow" or "oooh, hot" or something, because . . . I hadn't seen what a guy's chest looked like. Let alone felt one, until now. I mean, I'd touched Paul's a little, but not much. He didn't like wasting time on letting me relish how he felt at all. He just liked getting his reactions out of me.

But back to the point - this thing in front of me, this CHEST, was completely alien to me. I couldn't compare it against anything I'd seen before, because, um, I hadn't seen a whole lot.

So that was why I was confused when, upon seeing it, my temperature went WAY up.

I pressed my hands against his chest, and again, he made a noise that I was very satisfied with. I made noises like that when Paul kissed me. If I was making Jesse sound like that just by TOUCHING him . . . then it couldn't have felt that bad for him.

My palms circled down the skin there. I felt a little dusting of hair there, which confused me for a second. I mean . . . I didn't have hair there.

But this WAS a guy, after all. There had to be SOME THINGS that were a wee bit different.

I trailed my fingers down his chest. It felt so nice. Hard-like, you know? Like he actually knew what work was. HARD work. I couldn't get over the fact that a ghost FELT that good.

Or that I was affecting said ghost's breathing almost as much as he was affecting mine.

Still staring at wherever my hands went, trying to memorize every inch that I could see of him, I ran my ever-inquisitive hands down his sides, and his head actually rolled back when he groaned softly. That made me startled at first, because suddenly all I could see was his chin, but I traced a finger along his jaw line, and remembered times when I'd let my head fall like that.

And then it didn't confuse me anymore.

'You're so gentle,' Jesse breathed.

Was that a good or a bad thing?

Blinking fast now, and consciously taking very deep, long breaths rather than the short, shallow gasps that I'd been doing up till that point, I edged closer to him as my hands ventured to behind his shoulders, my fingers feeling the realms of his back. It felt muscular. I knew that. And I felt him say in a growl that had slight warning to it, 'Susannah . . . '

I ignored his speaking of my name. Although, I LOVED the way he said my name. It sounded so beautiful, from his voice. Like it was a precious word that he'd never abuse or say in vain.

And suddenly, his lips were brushing against mine, and he'd pulled me against him, not being able to take the touching any longer, I guess. I sighed deeply as he kissed me.

He did NOT shove his tongue against my lips straight away. He waited for me. His hands were gripping my upper arms in a delightfully possessive manner. I was pulling him to me, my hands going not-so-gentle on his back.

But his kiss was so sweet . . . I liked the taste. With Paul, something had always felt so wrong, and so forced. Oh, he made me FEEL good . . . but there was something that I hated about him kissing me.

But with Jesse . . . oh my God.

Not only was my heart soaring, and my mind was shattering, but it felt RIGHT.

Which, you know, is pretty cool, considering the fact that I knew he was dead and all that.

I dunno . . . with Jesse, there was . . . something there. Something that had been SO missing from Paul and me. This spark. This innocent excitement. Paul hadn't made me feel like that.

No way.

And for all the things that PAUL had made me feel . . . I felt them a hundred thousand times more by just BEING with Jesse.

It was kind of ironic . . . is that the word to use? I don't know, probably not . . . I'd done this to see, and learn about Jesse, to understand what I was seeing when I touched him.

And yet, I had my eyes closed all over again.

And it got even better when, with a rush of movement that I didn't even recognise until AFTER it happened, Jesse had slid his arm beneath both of my knees, had picked me up, and had laid me on my bed, before lying over me, ever so conscious about keeping his weight off of me.

I smiled up at him, getting hypnotised by eyes that I was seeing for the first time. I didn't care what anyone else thought. Jesse eyes were beautiful to me, and that was that. I loved them.

I . . . I loved him.

As he was kissing me, all I could think was how beautiful it felt. Jesse made me feel like I was someone really important to him. Special. Loveable.

It's not often that I feel like that . . . you know, being ME and all.

He was touching my nose with his gently, smiling down at me. He kissed me again, slowly and softly. I loved it.

However, he then rolled over, pulling me on top of him. This demonic, and HIGHLY embarrassing giggle departed my God forsaken throat, and that only made him smile more.

Jesse's smile was the most beautiful in the world.

I kissed him, my hands still totally feeling up his chest. I leisurely took in every inch of it, loving how my fingers tingled when I touched him like that. He didn't look too depressed about it either.

Or sound it.

His hands were on my hips, not firmly. As if they were kind of nervous about touching me there. God knows why. I didn't exactly MIND.

'Te amo . . . ' he breathed against the skin of my throat, kissing it very gently.

I brought my hand up to his face again, feeling it slowly. My fingers brushed over the tips of his eyelashes. I traced along the scar that ran through his eyebrow again. It looked so strange. I wondered if mine looked quite like that. Jesse turned his face to the side, and smiled. His side profile momentarily confused me. I mean . . . I'd forgotten that there are so many different angles that a nose can be seen from. It looks different every time.

From what I'd felt, Jesse had a nice nose.

So this was what a nice nose looked like.

I completely took this opportunity to study his ears. That was one thing that still had me REALLY confused. Ears. They were so swirly and complicated. I ran my fingers along the edges of his ear, before kissing the lobe. I heard him exhale noisily. Smiling, I continued kissing him there until he found it necessary to roll me on my back again, kissing me very thoroughly again.

I couldn't express how happy I felt then . . . I mean, happiness is SO much better than lust.

Lust feels wrong. It's exciting, but scary.

Happiness is just so . . . satisfying.

Still running feather-light touches across his back and adoring how the muscles kept changing beneath my fingers as he moved continuously to kiss me, I smiled so brightly that it felt like my face would crack or something.

After a moment, he pulled his face away from mine. I just looked at his eyes. I could get over how much I loved them.

'How?' he asked breathily, nodding to my comatose self, which was lying on the other side of the bed, as if asleep. 'How are you able to do this, Susannah?'

'Never mind,' I breathed. It was irrelevant now . . .

Jesse seemed to accept this answer quite readily, as he started kissing my neck again. I moaned from the exquisite sensations that he was eliciting. My breath was now so fast it was almost unbearable. My eyes were half-closed from the passion that was coursing hotly through my body, taking its toll on all of my limbs as they reacted intensely to the devastatingly wonderful proximity of Jesse.

His kisses went from slow and drawling to quick and impassioned, as if the first ones were solely for my benefit, but the later ones were expressions of his enjoyment. A stray thought was spared to Father Dominic and what he'd think of this . . . but I didn't care.

It was none of his beeswax. This was between Jesse and me. Nothing to do with priests, or God, Paul's stupid assumptions.

I was almost ashamed, though, to have wanted "Paul's stupid assumptions" to be . . . coming true.

I know! I know, it's - that's a STUPID thought that would NEVER happen because I was like, only sixteen and Jesse was my FIRST boyfriend ever and he was DEAD - but . . . if you Jesse had been kissing you the way he was kissing me then, you would have felt exactly the way I did. I wanted to be doing more. My skin was on fire, and I didn't want it to be cool ever again.

Jesse was kissing an excruciatingly sweet spot just behind my ear, making me squirm beneath him. I started giggling, but soon stopped when pleasure, pure and simple began numbing me. Jesse started whispering beautiful, soft words in my ears that thrilled me to no end. So what if they were in Spanish? It's not what you say, after all, but the WAY that you say it.

And dang, he was saying them good . . .

Overcome with the insane emotions of wanting to, um, go further than we were somehow - further than me touching him without his shirt on, further than him kissing me the way he was, further than his knee accidentally being in that place . . .

Then -

'SUZE!'

I squeaked in horror, jerking upward and banging my head against Jesse's. 'Ow,' he groaned, scrambling off of me. I looked sideways, and saw the distinct form of the comatose me, by my side.

'Sorry!' I hissed. 'I'm so sorry, I - '

It hadn't occurred to me that if anyone were to walk into the room, they'd see nothing suspicious - only me sleeping on the bed. After all, it was only my soul Jesse was having his way with. My living self appeared to be in an innocuous sleep.

Jesse was breathing as hard as me, and seemed to be in equal shock. 'Maybe it was a . . . a good thing that we stopped,' he panted. 'I . . . I am left wanting things that I cannot have from you, querida. Things that I should not want . . . '

'I know what you mean,' I wheezed.

'You - you do?' he asked in disbelief.

'You're not the only one with overworking hormones,' I informed him, remembering that oxygen thing. All those really intense feelings were starting to die down now.

'I see,' he laughed, a little uncomfortable.

' . . . So do I.'

Finally, I could agree on those two words . . .

'Oh, wow,' I murmured, 'That felt so - '

'I know,' he'd stopped breathing so hard. 'You are precious, Susannah.'

'Hah, you're not so bad yourself - '

'SUZE! Come down here! CeeCee's waiting for you!'

Oh, yeah . . . her.

Dazed from the wonders of Jesse's kiss, intoxicated from the pleasure of it all, I closed my eyes and slid back into my body. The astral projection was over. Once in, I sat up uneasily, unaccustomed with the darkness, suddenly. I mourned for my loss of vision, longing to see Jesse's face just one more time –

'Suze? Are you even THERE?' Mum shouted. 'Come on, hurry up!'

I quickly gathered up my overnight bag and my pillow – my guide stick was a given – and I made my way out of my room, still shivering from the excess delight of his kisses.

They're not something that you get over easily.

They're not something you WANT to get over.

All the same, I felt guilty about it, a little. I mean, I WAS really trashing the priest's trust in me – little that he had left, and all. We'd just assured him that there'd be no monkeying with each other's monkeys, and there we were, kissing each other like there was no life or death: only existence.

Finally getting downstairs, I was just starting to be unwillingly cured of my drunken love state.

'Wow, Suze,' CeeCee remarked with amusement, 'Your face is bright red. What were YOU just doing? Or who?'

Alarmed that she was so close to the mark, I sniffed.

'Shush, cow.'

She sniggered.