Because I actually have time today. Wo-Ow.
Chapter four. Promise Me.
His eyebrows rose in the form of a question.
I let go of his arm, and instead hugged myself, tilting lightly to the side. "Promise me…Jesse," I whispered, my gaze focused on the candles, "that you'll never forget me."
His hands came immediately to my sides holding me close, a look of desperation in his eyes. "Susannah," he said, "you do realize that one of the side-effects of this ritual is that I won't be able—"
"I don't care about that," I whispered, unable to look him anymore in the eye. I felt pitiful and stupid. Why did I have to go and ruin it?" Just, promise me, that…" I gulped, I could feel a light tingling behind my nose. "When we meet…if you, don't love me anymore," I felt his grip around my arms tighten. "that you'll, you'll remember me. In some tiny way. Promise me that you won't forget me entirely."
"Susannah," he said, and I could tell that he was reconsidering the plan. He viewed my face with an expressionthat burned my skin. "I—"
"Just do it!" I pleaded, "promise me, Jesse, please."
He just looked at me. Took my face between his thumb and index fingers and just stared at me, tilting my gaze to meet his own.
"Yes, querida," he murmured, "I promise."
He brought his face down towards mine and brushed his lips against mine. Even as he pulled away I could feel it.
The remnants of our last kiss.
— — —
She sits down across from him, folding her arms across her lap as she stared straight ahead, lost in some kind of a trance.
And I sit here, just the same, watching her every move.
CeeCee isn't talking anymore, and our table seems consumed in a deafly silence as she twirls a napkin ring around her finger, looking dull and bored. Oh, great.
"I'm sorry I've been bad company," I mutter, trying to make up for what I know is my fault. "It's just...some things have been on my mind."
"I know what you're looking at, Jesse." She puts the ring down in a move that is final. "You don't even know her."
A gurgle of protest runs up my throat but I swallow it down defiantly. She's right.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I finally manage to say.
CeeCee gives me a dry expression. "It wasn't always like this," she says, as though I had just asked her a question. "She used to be our friend...Suze, I mean."
I look over to where 'Suze' is sitting. Her expression is listless and dreary. I can't seem to imagine her as anyone's friend.
CeeCee follows my gaze and continues on. "It wasn't until about a year ago that she started going out with Paul," she gestures over to the young man that is sitting across from her. I have never in my life seen a more awkward couple. "He took her places, you know. Places that she needed to go to. Places where she could run and hide. It was a psychological thing. Suze's been different...ever since he left."
She gives me a meaningful look.
Oh. "So, her boyfriend dumped her?"
Cee smiles, and I notice that she seems different. Somewhat forced, like she's holding down a secret inside of her. Something that she thinks I should know.
"Nah, he would never have done anything like that to her. It was a mutual decision. She decided he needed to go. It's…complicated."
Complicated. Like my family?
"I see." Though really I don't. Why would a guy just up and leave her?
I look once more in her direction, and find that she's watching us. An almost animated look flickers across her face, but she looks abruptly away, turning once more to her escort.
He smiles at her, covering her hand with his.
It looks so dark, so tan compared to her ivory. He's swallowing her up. A knot forms in my stomach, and I can feel my chest constricting.
Quickly I force myself to look away. CeeCee's right. I don't even know her. What is wrong with you, de Silva?
Mentally I delete her picture from my mind. If I don't look over, everything should be fine. Where the hell's Adam, anyway?
By the end of the hour we've both finished our drinks. CeeCee sits in front of me, trying to keep up a conversation as she asks me about my life in Illinois. I answer her questions with as much enthusiasm as I can muster, but I can tell already that she's bored stiff.
This evening is a disaster.
"Look," I say, just as she begins mentioning the Carmel Annual Art Gallery for the twentieth time. "I think it's safe to say that we've run out of small talk. And it's quite obvious that Adam ain't showing. So how 'bout we just ditch this place and get out of here? I'm pretty sure you're tired of mocha fraps, anyway."
CeeCee looks dubious—as though she's convinced that any moment now, Adam might just waltz through that door—but relents. "Okay," she mutters, "let me just go pay."
I hand her a twenty and she straightens her blouse, looking rather dismay.
"We'll invite him again some other time," I say soothingly. "I'm sure he just got caught up."
"Right." She says.
— — —
It's not until we're putting on our coats that I notice how pale she's looking.
As we cross by their table I find myself sneaking tidbits of their conversation, catching phrases like, "Well if you'd just let me drive you," and "I don't need your protection, Paul."
But the cup doesn't shatter until we're walking through the door. (A/n: It's a metaphorical cup. Sorta like 'proverbial fish'.)
All of a sudden I find myself in a mad flurry of yelling. Everyone freezes as she gets up, muttering incoherently and striding furiously across the café. Paul gets up as well, and—in a somewhat befuddled attempt to stop her—grabs the edge of her sleeve.
"Stop it!" She screams, "Just—stop!" Tugging her arm away, she runs past me and CeeCee before exiting through the door.
The echo of the bell is deafening.
Paul pushes through the crowd, meeting my gaze before he scrambles out the door. "Butt out, de Silva." He mutters, and I wonder for a second how he even knows my name. "This is none of your business."
Which may have been true. Had he not extended to me that invitation.
Lol. Sounds so macho.
Okay, I officially no longer know where I'm going with this. In fact, I seem to have lost most of my ideas for this fanfic. This is of course, the result of long periods not writing.
But don't worry. I got plenty of fluff planned. Hehe.
(Review.)
