Haunted
Chapter 8
"You're never going to tell me, are you?"
I shifted slightly on the roof tiles, trying to make it appear as if I was not trying to subtly entice him into kissing me, when I fully was. Unfortunately, all I seemed to be accomplishing was getting pine needles jabbed into my stomach. I moved my elbows back further on the roof shingles and continued nonchalantly staring at the sun set into the bay. I realized I had missed doing this while I was in the hospital recovering, 'this' being staring off into the sunset while sitting, or in my case, laying, on the roof outside my window with the hottest guy in Carmel. So today, when I got home, I'd hopped out my window, accompanied by assorted aches and pains the motion caused, and lay there waiting for him to show, which he had, a few minutes ago.
The only thing that could make this better, I mused, was if said hottie actually liked me enough to kiss me again. I turned my head slightly and snuck a peek at Jesse through my hair. Seeing that no kiss seemed to be forthcoming, I sighed and leaned over on my non-fractured-wrist's elbow and tried to brush off some of the pine needles that were embedded in my shirt.
Jesse, for his part, was sitting a few feet away from me, and being obtuse, as usual.
He tried to look innocent. "Tell you what, Susannah?"
I rolled over more and glared at him. "What. happened.. to. Paul?" I enunciated clearly, in case he hadn't gotten it the other few times I'd asked him.
Jesse just looked at me, and crossed his arms over his chest, temporarily distracting me as my gaze was drawn to where his shirt offered me a glimpse of muscular chest.
Men.
Ghosts.
Both annoying enough on their own. I had both in one, with the added bonus of him speaking a different language. Let me tell you, not so fun.
As if I didn't have enough problems with the whole me-being-in-love-with- him thing.
For example, he'd been muttering plenty in Spanish when he showed up on the roof, interspersed with comments like, "Nombre de Dios, Susannah, why must you be so stubborn?" and such, to which I replied I had been learning from the master ever since I found out there was a ghost living in my new bedroom.
He had looked scandalized for a second, before finally breaking into a hearty chuckle.
"Querida, why did you not tell me who the gifts were from?" he had asked, after he had calmed down a bit.
I sobered. Now was my big chance.
"Listen.. Jesse." I said, contemplating my sandal-clad feet, "I." I trailed off. How should I put it?
I glanced up at him, willing something coherent to come out of my mouth, and suddenly it came pouring out. Everything rushed out, from when I'd met Paul at school to the barbecue.
When I'd finished, I could tell Jesse was trying not to smile. His scarred eyebrow was in danger of disappearing into his hair, and his eyes were laughing.
"It's not funny," I said, indignantly. "I went through all that and you're laughing at me!"
He came over to me and put his hand on my arm. "I am sorry Susannah, but would it not have been easier to just tell me all this in the beginning?" Instead of being so stubborn, he didn't say, but he didn't have to.
I thought about making a smart comment, but it was extremely hard to form a sentence with his hand on my arm.
I recovered enough to ask, "Why did you come for me?"
He took back his hand and opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and went, a bit confusedly, "You called me, Susannah."
I had? What was with this? It would be nice if, I don't know, I actually knew what the heck I was doing when I did it. But still, by calling him, albeit unknowingly, I'd likely saved my own life. Although, I thought ruefully, not my outfit, which was bloodstained and ripped beyond repair. Blind luck had much to answer for.
"Why didn't you come before then?" I asked, but not in an accusing way.
"I didn't know. Paul was preventing me from." His eyes blazed momentarily, and I waited for him to finish, but he appeared to think he'd said too much. Ghosts.
I lay down across the pine needles and shingles, staring into the bay. The clouds had turned a beautiful shade of purply-blue, and the pink sky contrasted sharply to the water, off which reflected little points of light from the sun, which had started to dip below the horizon. It was beautiful, almost enough for me to be glad I'd moved here, and forget about all the not-so-good things that had happened. Almost.
But then again, a lot of good things had happened too. Like, Jesse. Just as an example. Well, and Cee Cee and Adam. And Father Dom. And meeting other mediators. And making mom happy. And Doc. And being popular.
It was almost as if I was beginning to be happy here.
What a morbid thought.
"So what happened to Paul, anyway? Did he get away?" I asked, pulling a stray pine needle out of my shirt and throwing it off the roof.
Jesse snorted. "No. No, I think not," he said firmly.
I turned to stare at him, causing my rib to twinge painfully. I stared at him. "What do you mean, 'I think not'?"
Jesse carefully avoided my gaze, choosing instead to say, "Isn't that a beautiful sunset, Susannah?"
As if we hadn't watched the same sunset every week the past month. "Oh, no you don't. What did you do to him?" I said, suppressing a shiver. The sun was halfway submerged in the Pacific, and it was getting colder, despite the warm breeze.
To which Jesse had raised his non-scarred eyebrow and replied, "Susannah, you're shivering. Why do you insist on not wearing a, what is it called? Sweat shirt?"
Anyway, at the moment he uncrossed his arms and walked across to the window, informing me that he, since I was so stubborn, was going to retrieve my sweater from inside. I guess for my sake, since he could easily have dematerialized and reappeared inside my - our bedroom.
As he got to the window, I stopped him.
"Jesse."
He looked over at me, one booted foot resting on the windowsill. I sat up, brushing most of the pine needles off me.
"I never got a chance. Thank you." I took a deep breath before continuing. "Before, in Brooklyn, I never had anyone that could, or even wanted to, watch my back. I just wanted to say. Thanks. For everything." I shrugged, embarrassed, and turned back to the sunset. Only a small slice remained above the water.
I heard quiet footsteps, and Jesse was kneeling beside me staring into the sunset too, with his hand on my upper arm pulling me closer to him.
We sat that way for a moment, and I rested my head on his shoulder, fully intending to get as much out of this as possible. Then he turned slightly, so that he could see my face. I inhaled, and smelled that tangy scent that was uniquely Jesse, as I memorized the line of his jaw, his neck, and finally his face. My gaze finally traveled up to his, and I saw something in his dark eyes that I couldn't quite identify.
"No, querida. Thank you." He said softly, and brought my face to his in a gentle kiss.
And just before I closed my eyes, I saw the sun sink quietly into the water.
Chapter 8
"You're never going to tell me, are you?"
I shifted slightly on the roof tiles, trying to make it appear as if I was not trying to subtly entice him into kissing me, when I fully was. Unfortunately, all I seemed to be accomplishing was getting pine needles jabbed into my stomach. I moved my elbows back further on the roof shingles and continued nonchalantly staring at the sun set into the bay. I realized I had missed doing this while I was in the hospital recovering, 'this' being staring off into the sunset while sitting, or in my case, laying, on the roof outside my window with the hottest guy in Carmel. So today, when I got home, I'd hopped out my window, accompanied by assorted aches and pains the motion caused, and lay there waiting for him to show, which he had, a few minutes ago.
The only thing that could make this better, I mused, was if said hottie actually liked me enough to kiss me again. I turned my head slightly and snuck a peek at Jesse through my hair. Seeing that no kiss seemed to be forthcoming, I sighed and leaned over on my non-fractured-wrist's elbow and tried to brush off some of the pine needles that were embedded in my shirt.
Jesse, for his part, was sitting a few feet away from me, and being obtuse, as usual.
He tried to look innocent. "Tell you what, Susannah?"
I rolled over more and glared at him. "What. happened.. to. Paul?" I enunciated clearly, in case he hadn't gotten it the other few times I'd asked him.
Jesse just looked at me, and crossed his arms over his chest, temporarily distracting me as my gaze was drawn to where his shirt offered me a glimpse of muscular chest.
Men.
Ghosts.
Both annoying enough on their own. I had both in one, with the added bonus of him speaking a different language. Let me tell you, not so fun.
As if I didn't have enough problems with the whole me-being-in-love-with- him thing.
For example, he'd been muttering plenty in Spanish when he showed up on the roof, interspersed with comments like, "Nombre de Dios, Susannah, why must you be so stubborn?" and such, to which I replied I had been learning from the master ever since I found out there was a ghost living in my new bedroom.
He had looked scandalized for a second, before finally breaking into a hearty chuckle.
"Querida, why did you not tell me who the gifts were from?" he had asked, after he had calmed down a bit.
I sobered. Now was my big chance.
"Listen.. Jesse." I said, contemplating my sandal-clad feet, "I." I trailed off. How should I put it?
I glanced up at him, willing something coherent to come out of my mouth, and suddenly it came pouring out. Everything rushed out, from when I'd met Paul at school to the barbecue.
When I'd finished, I could tell Jesse was trying not to smile. His scarred eyebrow was in danger of disappearing into his hair, and his eyes were laughing.
"It's not funny," I said, indignantly. "I went through all that and you're laughing at me!"
He came over to me and put his hand on my arm. "I am sorry Susannah, but would it not have been easier to just tell me all this in the beginning?" Instead of being so stubborn, he didn't say, but he didn't have to.
I thought about making a smart comment, but it was extremely hard to form a sentence with his hand on my arm.
I recovered enough to ask, "Why did you come for me?"
He took back his hand and opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and went, a bit confusedly, "You called me, Susannah."
I had? What was with this? It would be nice if, I don't know, I actually knew what the heck I was doing when I did it. But still, by calling him, albeit unknowingly, I'd likely saved my own life. Although, I thought ruefully, not my outfit, which was bloodstained and ripped beyond repair. Blind luck had much to answer for.
"Why didn't you come before then?" I asked, but not in an accusing way.
"I didn't know. Paul was preventing me from." His eyes blazed momentarily, and I waited for him to finish, but he appeared to think he'd said too much. Ghosts.
I lay down across the pine needles and shingles, staring into the bay. The clouds had turned a beautiful shade of purply-blue, and the pink sky contrasted sharply to the water, off which reflected little points of light from the sun, which had started to dip below the horizon. It was beautiful, almost enough for me to be glad I'd moved here, and forget about all the not-so-good things that had happened. Almost.
But then again, a lot of good things had happened too. Like, Jesse. Just as an example. Well, and Cee Cee and Adam. And Father Dom. And meeting other mediators. And making mom happy. And Doc. And being popular.
It was almost as if I was beginning to be happy here.
What a morbid thought.
"So what happened to Paul, anyway? Did he get away?" I asked, pulling a stray pine needle out of my shirt and throwing it off the roof.
Jesse snorted. "No. No, I think not," he said firmly.
I turned to stare at him, causing my rib to twinge painfully. I stared at him. "What do you mean, 'I think not'?"
Jesse carefully avoided my gaze, choosing instead to say, "Isn't that a beautiful sunset, Susannah?"
As if we hadn't watched the same sunset every week the past month. "Oh, no you don't. What did you do to him?" I said, suppressing a shiver. The sun was halfway submerged in the Pacific, and it was getting colder, despite the warm breeze.
To which Jesse had raised his non-scarred eyebrow and replied, "Susannah, you're shivering. Why do you insist on not wearing a, what is it called? Sweat shirt?"
Anyway, at the moment he uncrossed his arms and walked across to the window, informing me that he, since I was so stubborn, was going to retrieve my sweater from inside. I guess for my sake, since he could easily have dematerialized and reappeared inside my - our bedroom.
As he got to the window, I stopped him.
"Jesse."
He looked over at me, one booted foot resting on the windowsill. I sat up, brushing most of the pine needles off me.
"I never got a chance. Thank you." I took a deep breath before continuing. "Before, in Brooklyn, I never had anyone that could, or even wanted to, watch my back. I just wanted to say. Thanks. For everything." I shrugged, embarrassed, and turned back to the sunset. Only a small slice remained above the water.
I heard quiet footsteps, and Jesse was kneeling beside me staring into the sunset too, with his hand on my upper arm pulling me closer to him.
We sat that way for a moment, and I rested my head on his shoulder, fully intending to get as much out of this as possible. Then he turned slightly, so that he could see my face. I inhaled, and smelled that tangy scent that was uniquely Jesse, as I memorized the line of his jaw, his neck, and finally his face. My gaze finally traveled up to his, and I saw something in his dark eyes that I couldn't quite identify.
"No, querida. Thank you." He said softly, and brought my face to his in a gentle kiss.
And just before I closed my eyes, I saw the sun sink quietly into the water.