La dee dah.

Here's another Tennis chapter.

What do you know.

Love Lolly and Hayley.

- 8 -

I never believed in luck until now. I know that sounds strange, but luck just seemed so . . . I don't know, random. Things don't just happen by chance . . .

. . . Or do they?

You see, something obviously must have been right. The stars were aligned, lady luck was dancing in my direction, God loves me . . . whatever the hell it was, it all worked out perfectly.

You see, Suze was actually AT my house for some reason OTHER than shifting lessons. Granted, it had taken a few risks like putting my shifting lessons on the line, but somehow, it all turned out.

That's why I was sitting on the patio with Suze, eating Chinese and watching the sunset.

Mark, it turns out, had a little family business to attend to, so he left us with a substitute nurse named Jose.

This was good and bad. The bad thing was that Jose doesn't know how to cook. AT ALL. Thus, I was forced to order Chinese.

Not quite as romantic as Mark's lemon chicken, but it had to do.

The good thing about Jose is that he pretty much stays quiet. This is mostly due to the fact that he doesn't know English, so to avoid any problems that might occur because of this, he mostly leaves me alone.

Which was PERFECT.

The ocean's evening wind is cool as it blows all around us. Eating outside is perfect, not only because of the weather, but because the view from my patio looks out directly on the Pacific ocean. The absolute best view money could buy.

But more than the view, I enjoy watching Suze eat. Not in a crazy, stalkerish type way, but because she actually knows how to handle chopsticks.

To the outsider, our meal was completely casual. I mean, we were eating out of those little card-board take-out boxes on the patio. We were using paper napkins, not cloth. No fancy restaurants, not garnishing on of the food, just plain and simple.

Only, to me, it was anything but simple. The whole time my mind was scheming . . .

I had szechwan beef.

Not McNuggets.

(Thank the frigging Lord.)

But no, instead, we were dining on Chinese.

It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. He wasn't saying all that much. At ALL.

In fact, I kind of got pretty comfortable, and started flirting with the chop sticks. Andy had told me how to handle them. Paul knew his tennis, I knew my chop sticks.

Go me.

The Jose guy was freaking me out. He had these big bulgy eyes, and he didn't speak much English. Which was annoying. I said hi, and he was like, buuuuuulge . . .

His eyes.

Not, erm, other areas.

I dunno if I can say the same for Paul though.

. . . Suze?

Eww.

I was perfectly content not talking. Any word that I said would have embarrassed me anyway. Seriously. I was prone to going squeaky around Paul. Like a rubber ducky.

Oh yeah, that's me. 'Rubber ducky, you're the one, you make bath-time lots of fun!'

. . . Lets hope that Paul keeps his mind on Chinese, and not bathing.

WOULD I STOP THINKING ALREADY?

I JUST GOT VISUALS.

EWW.

'So, Suze, how do you like tennis so far?' I asked, breaking our quiet. I really wasn't concentrating on conversation as I should have been, so I figured a little light chit-chat might be welcome.

As opposed to answering, I took another mouthful of beef. Slowly I chewed. Jeez, what could I say? Oh, I seem to be finding it a little distracting at the moment. Yeah, wonder why. It was probably even more embarrassing that I was sitting here, still in my tennis whites.

God knows, I'd drop food on them.

How embarrassing.

Hey. For a guys uniform, do they have to wear whitie-tighties –

WAIT. I DON'T WANT TO KNOW.

After swallowing, my eyes flickered to his a little, before back to my food. 'It's all right,' I said lamely. There was no other way of saying it. I didn't want to say I hated it, because I didn't. In fact, the ONLY drawback, was Paul.

She didn't seem to enthusiastic about it. I mean I knew she liked tennis. I'd seen it in her eyes and in the intense focus she had when we were playing together.

Mmm . . . szechwan . . .

And I don't think she had any objections to the uniform.

I was almost done with my Chinese-y goodness. Andy would later demand to know what I'd eaten for dinner, (since I'd had to call up to say I'd be skipping it,) and I would have to reassure him that, of course, his was better.

The only thing to suck the joy out of tennis was me. But that will all change, in due time.

'It'll get better,' I promised her. Which was true as well. I had a feeling that I could change her mind about it. About me.

All in due time.

'Yeah,' I muttered. 'Right.'


I looked at her and grinned mysteriously. 'I wouldn't be so quick to say that.'

I nodded slowly. Szechwan was all done. That, technically, meant that I was free to go. Right?

With raised eyebrows, I stared at the empty, used Chinese box. Well, it had been nice. Lots of flavour. And vegies.

I didn't exactly say anything to respond to his statement.

'So,' I hummed, 'Um, cool Chinese. It was very . . . um . . . Chinese.'

Chinese tends to be that way, Suze.

Oooh, crap. Rubber duckiness is setting in.

'Yeah,' I said, 'Quick thinking on my part. Otherwise, we'd be having the same as Pops. Microwave oatmeal.'

I laughed nervously. 'Nice,' I nodded. 'I mean, not that I don't like oatmeal it's just that I do actually like Chinese more, and I really like Thai too - not that I'm racist, just I think that Thai is you know, more hot than Chinese. I love food when its hot - I dunno why, my dad used to love it hot and I just guess I do to now, but Chinese is great, just you know, not as hot - '

I broke off abruptly. I'd said Chinese three times. That was really sad.

And plus . . . I'd repeatedly said hot. To Paul. He better not think that I'm harbouring lustful feelings, or anything.

For, um, Thai.

Yeah, Suze. Thai.

I stared at my chopsticks intently. There were no nice dragony patterns on them. Gah. Cheap. How rude. Come ON, they should have decent chopsticks and all -

Whoa. Okay . . . lots of words . . . how do I respond? At least, with my observations, I noticed that I'd gotten her all riled up. You see, I know that she has a tendency to babble when she's nervous.

Ah, well. That's my plan.

'Are you done with that?' I asked, as she was playing with her chopsticks.

In a high voice, I answered an overly loud, 'Uh huh.'

Oh my God . . . I needed to go fix my hair, it was all coming out and stuff, and it probably looked like a depressed afro or something, oh crap, I looked so bad - not that I CARED what I looked like in front of Paul, just, you know . . . a girl has to have some principals, right?

YEAH Suze. Like NOT going to dinner with the guy who hates your boyfriend.

Hmph. I hadn't even SEEN Jesse last night.

I stood up and took her box as well as my own, and held the door open for her so that she could go back in the house. She stood in my kitchen, looking a little uncomfortable as she played with her hair.

Out of the blue I asked,'When are you going to tell Jesse? About our lessons, I mean.'

I was curious, after all.

Again, I raised my eyebrows. I guess I did that when I was freaked. Why I was freaked, I didn't know exactly. All I knew was that my heart was beating that bit faster. And I didn't know WHY.

'Um,' I said, 'I really don't know. Listen, do you - um, is there a bathroom anywhere -'

Not that I'd utilize the Slater toilet. God forbid I should come across like, pee on the floor from Gramps, or something.

I just SO needed a mirror.

My hair -

Way to change the subject, Suze. Really. One simple question was all I asked, but she couldn't even give it to me.

I opened my trash compactor and threw the boxes in. As I closed it, I went, 'It's down the hall, straight across the way from my room.'

Heh. I forgot how close it was to my room.

This caused me to grin.

With a quick nod, I departed the kitchen without further ado - I mean, thought. Whatever. I scuttled into said bathroom, and began performing plastic surgery on my hair. It looked all icky and out of place and hi-I-just-got-off-a-roller-coaster and all. Aww, man.

While Suze was in the bathroom, I headed into my room. I thought maybe I'd let her come find me when she was done.

Bonus: it'd get her exactly where I wanted her to be.

Repositioning hairpins and finger-combing it for about two minutes, I stared at the mirror. Looking around, making sure there were no witnesses to the sight that was about to occur, I . . .

Um.

Checked my teeth.

. . . Baring my teeth, I scrubbed my finger across them, making sure there was no, like, beef caught in it or anything. Is there anything GROSSER than that? Besides poison oak?

And Dopey?

I took the opportunity to recline on my bed and stare at my ceiling. I waited . . . and waited . . . what was taking her so long?

Crap . . . beef alert. Looking warily at my index finger's nail - it was really nice and all now, I'd managed to grow them, and stop biting them - I carefully tried sliding the offending cooked cow out from between my molars.

Not pretty.

I went through a checklist of what could possibly keep her this long. What if she got food poisoning? What if the thought of being alone with me was making her sick? What if she was trying to drown herself in my sink?

Oh God.

There's a window in my bathroom.

Not a very big one, but one she could easily escape from . . .

I have to see if she's –

NO. That wouldn't be very smooth of me. Keep your cool, Slater, keep your cool.

Gah. Stubborn little sucker . . . My mouth was hurting from being stretched. I leaned closer to the mirror.

And besides, I don't think she'd enjoy the two-story free fall.

Maybe she was primping. I mean, she was playing with her hair earlier in the kitchen. And all through dinner, every time I'd look at her she'd drive a hand through it.

She's getting ready for me . . . mmmm . . .

Never done a girl in tennis whites before.

Aaah. Finally, stupid Chinese cow. Honestly. With a last paranoid hair-check, glaring at my reflection intently, looking for stray wisps or something, and realizing that all was in order, I backed out from the bathroom -

Mmm. She can play with my tennis balls any day –

BUT KNOCKED OVER THE CERAMIC TOOTHBRUSH HOLDER.

CRAP.

CRAP. What was that?

With a small crash, it hit the dark blue tiles.

Shit . . . I am so dead . . .

I dunno why, but I ran out the door. He was going to sue me - I was going to burn in hell, I'd flawed his flawless bathroom, tainted his tiles –

I had to push my little fantasy away. She really was going to escape. I knew it. She has no fear. She'd probably rather free fall a hundred stories to get away from me.

Quickly, I rushed out of my room to go check on her when-

CRASH.

OW.

SHIT. This time, the crash didn't come from the bathroom. No, it resulted from a head-on collision between me and Suze.

Like I said. OW.

Yeah. Smooth going, Slater. She's not supposed to be knocked to the ground like THAT.

. . . Ow.

I think he just destroyed my last two brain cells.

'Are you all right?' I asked. The collision was so hard, that we both ended up in one heap in the middle of the hallway. The situation would be ideal, were it not for the fact that I completely bowled into her. Way to play it cool, Slater.

I groaned, holding my forehead, and subconsciously checking to see if my hair was messed up again. No damage . . . possible mental trauma . . . he's gonna freak when he sees the ceramic thing -

'It so wasn't my fault, it just - blew up - ' I began, and then I groaned again. GAWD. Ow.

. . . Then I started giggling.

My head hurt like hell. It was funny. I'd bashed Paul in the head. His head hurt like hell.

Also funny.

Her giggling caused me to laugh too, for some reason. I couldn't help it.

'What's so funny?' I asked, pushing all of my chuckling behind a sly grin. Cool people don't laugh. Not when they don't know what's funny.

My head kind of hurt . . . but not too badly. Not as bad as a post-shifting headache.

'I hurt you,' I giggled insanely. 'Again.'

'I see how it is, Suze,' I said, letting a dark laugh escape. 'Your pleasure is my pain.'

My giggling died.

Mmm. Kinky.

Eww. Kinky.

My skirt was . . . um . . . a little . . . up.

Hastily, I stood up. Blushing like hell's red.

Again, I checked my hair. Suze . . . it's fine.

I stared up at her as she stood up, rising like a goddess in a white miniskirt. She messed with her hair some more, and brushed her skirt down, which I noticed was kind of hiked up in the fall. Damn.

Hmm. Suze's boobs look bigger from down here.

Not that I was staring or anything.

'Um,' I said, and weirdly offered him a hand to help him up. Whoa. This was awkward.

Er, yeah. Maybe he can find out about the ceramic thing on his own. You know? As in . . . after I left?

It didn't look all that expensive. I mean . . . you know, not to Paul. Only like $50 or something, right? That's only about a buck to him or something.

I stared at the hand which she offered me. I took it, but when she finally helped me off the ground, I didn't let go of it.

His grasp was really firm.

Ugh.

I stared at his hand, kind of.

His tan . . . so deep against my pathetically pale skin.

I saw her staring down at our hands. And not like she was trying to burn through my hand with laser vision or whatever. But like she was considering something else at the moment. Considering something I had been considering since I answered the door to the suite my family stayed in over the summer and saw that, along with complimentary towels, there'd also be a staff babysitter . . .

I pulled her in my bedroom really fast, and closed the door behind us.

My heart leapt horribly, and my stomach fell out or something.

WHAT THE -

Before she could protest, I pushed her against my door and started kissing her.

I kissed her with so much force, she was practically sinking right through the door. But I continued on, deepening until I could get some sort of response.

I didn't know what to do. I seriously didn't. All that Chinese I'd had? Um, yeah, I felt like I hadn't eaten a bite. There was this hollow, slightly painful feeling in my stomach. His lips were so . . . I don't think that I could really describe how he was kissing me with just one word. No way. There were many emotions in his kiss, many that made me scared as hell.

Probably an explanation for, you know, the whole sore-tummy thing.

His body was pressed up so much against mine, that I felt like I was just molding against him. And still, I didn't know what to do.

What - kiss back? Yell at him? Punch him in the thingiemabobs? WHAT?

. . . Hell, I knew what I wanted to do -

OH, GOD.

No response. No problem.

I cajoled her with my lips. Come on, Suze. You know you want to . . .

THIS WASN'T FAIR.

'This - this isn't . . . dinner,' I felt the need to inform him. In like, the BREATHIEST, FREAKIEST tone that I'd EVER heard myself use. It wasn't my voice. It was something STRAINED, and DEMONIC and oh my GOD, WHY DID HE KISS SO GOOD?

I smiled against her lips. She always had to interrupt this kind of thing by making completely obvious statements. Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like if she converted all that energy wasted from pointing things out to me into something more useful. Like, I don't know, kissing me back?

But her tone, it was raspy and kind of breathy. Sexy.

I replied, in the smoothest voice I could, 'I know. But I'm still hungry.'

Oh, MAN.

I knew I'd hit a nerve or five when I'd said that. Suze shivered in my arms, and I knew that no matter how hard she tried to deny it, I had her ensnared in my trap. In the worst possible way.

No, no, no, NO, THIS WASN'T MEANT TO HAPPEN. I WAS SUPPOSED TO COME FOR DINNER.

Aka, FOOD.

Rotisserie style.

He - he wasn't meant - this wasn't part of that DEAL. I should have been allowed to go home now! It was like nine. NINE O'CLOCK.

Yes, yes, yes, YES, MY PLAN WORKED. Suze came over for dinner after tennis, I lure her into my room, and . . .

And then, who knows what the night held?

I would if you'd let me continue . . . AHEM.

I pushed Suze against my door harder. She let out a moan of pain, and then I realized something. It was kind of rude of me to just sit here and squish Suze in between my body and the door. She's my guest. She's supposed to feel comfortable.

Honestly. What's gotten into me?

And STOP saying Viagra.

I stopped kissing her long enough to flash her a mischievous smile. All she could do was stare up at me in fear. She didn't let on that she knew my next course of action, but a hint of horror flashed in her eyes as I pulled up the rolling chair at my computer desk.

'My manners are terrible. I forgot to offer you a seat,' I said, grinning madly at her. 'Would you like to take a seat?'

She stared at the chair as if it were something terrifying.

The chair was going to eat me. Oh, GOD.

Aw, no need to be shy. What you need is a little encouragement . . .

So, I sat in the chair myself and tugged her on after me.

I WAS SITTING ON PAUL SLATER'S LAP.

SHIT.

I felt totally and utterly paralyzed.

I held her there by the waist, and continued my plan, this time moving to kiss her neck hungrily.

AAAAAAH. NO WAY.

THAT WAS OUT OF LINE.

My hands had a mind of their own. They clung onto his thighs relentlessly, and all I could do was gasp, and breathe sharply, hoping he'd stop at the same time as hoping he wouldn't . . .

My head was tipped totally to the left. His lips were burning all along my neck. Like he was pressing hot coals there. That's how it felt, but by God, every other nerve in my body felt it too . . .

I let my hands roam freely, exploring new regions. As my hand was about to find its way up Suze's top, I heard a tapping at the door.

Jose called from behind it, 'Paul? I hear boom. Good?'

IF HE HADN'T HAVE COME THERE JUST MIGHTHAVE BEEN BOOM.

Shit.

That wasn't even all the way in ENGLISH and I knew what he meant. He meant the crash from earlier. And now he was here to see if everything was okay.

Well, it WAS okay before HE decided to spoil it.

I hit my head repeatedly on the back of the chair and let out an exasperated groan. 'Good,' I called back, immediately removing my hands from Suze.

Reluctantly, of course.

Jose sputtered something in Spanish and his voice disappeared down the hallway.

Feeling like jelly, I, um, got off of him.

Oh God . . . that was close . . .

I moved away to the other side of the room, blushing like HELL. Oh God, oh God -

I crossed my arms over my chest, my head bowed to hide my flaming cheeks. I felt way too hot. Like I'd been in a furnace. 'Take me home,' I said. Not asked. Said.

Damn. I was THIS close. THIS close to getting exactly what I wanted.

But NO. Jose had to ask if we were all right. And late, too. I mean, that crash had happened eons ago before he actually stopped by to check. Way to do your job, Jose. Really.

I swear, if he weren't hired help for my Pops I'd-

UGH.

I sulked out of the chair, fished my keys from my pocket, and took Suze home right away, just as she asked.

But, I assured myself, there's always tomorrow. At shifting lessons.

And the day after that at tennis lessons. And the day after that . . .

I got more than I bargained for with this deal.

Excuse me. When I get home, I'm going to drown myself.

Thank you.