This chapter isn't funny. That's all we say.

Love Lolly and Hayley.

- 8 -

The look on Jesse's face changed like lightning to the one he usually wore when Paul was in my presence. My eyes went so wide, they were stinging.

'Jesse,' I spurted out, 'Jesse - he was just - '

'Leaving,' Jesse said. 'He's leaving.'

'No I'm not,' I replied defiantly, sitting on Suze's bed. I could still feel the warmth our bodies had put on the bedspread as we were kissing a few moments ago beneath my fingertips.

I was terrified. I didn't know what I could have said. He didn't believe the Max-the-doggie-bit-me-on-the-neck. I knew that.

He didn't believe that for a second. Because Jesse knew that I babble when I'm nervous, and he was humoring me, like he always did. He wasn't dumb.

'I didn't want to tell you, Jesse,' I began slowly.

'Tell me what, Susannah?' Jesse demanded, folding his arms.

I noticed quickly how he dropped the word "querida".

Hmm. Sucks to be Suze.

I licked my lips. I could still taste Paul on them. 'I . . . ' I cast a look at Paul in angry apology, 'I'm – ' think, THINK!

. . . Eureka.

' – taking shifting lessons from him.' GOOD COVER. 'I mean, I didn't tell you because I knew that you would get mad and that you wouldn't want me spending time with him because he's evil but I really want to take them and plus he threatened to exorcise you if I didn't and I am - ' I babbled. I took a breath, ' - not doing any more than lessons and I can't believe that you would THINK that, how DARE you think that? I mean, I am totally learning about the wonderful world of soul transference and it's all good and I'm fine and stop looking at me like that - I AM NOT TALKING TOO FAST, YOU JUST CAN'T KEEP UP.'

But Jesse didn't stop looking at her like that. He just stared at her with amazement and touch of anger.

'Susannah, I thought we agreed on total honesty,' Jesse frowned.

'Apparently not,' I chirped, 'Because she left out the part about . . . '

Suze's eyes widened like I'd never seen them do before. I winked at her quickly and finished, ' . . . the tennis lessons.'

Okay, so I didn't blab about the making out.

Yet.

Jesse whipped back to me, with furious eyes. 'What?'

I stood there helplessly. 'You're never around for me to be honest with you,' I snapped in my defense.

'Paul . . . lesson's over. Get out of here. And take those, I don't want them,' I pointed angrily at the bottle of Pepsi and the crunchy bar. The chocoholic in me screamed in protest.

I ran my hand through my hair, and closed my eyes. The sensation of his fingers in the exact same spot still lingered.

When I opened my eyes, neither of them had moved. Jesse still looked like he was going to blow a fuse, and Paul looked indignant.

'Susannah, Father Dominic has specifically asked me not to be around. I am going against his wishes just being here now,' Jesse mumbled.

'Father D has no objections to me hanging around,' I said, smiling.

I must admit, as funny as this was, I still felt that somehow this didn't involve me anymore. This was about to become something way above me, something that wasn't my business.

Screw business. This was fun.

I shot Paul a look of poison. 'Get out,' I said in a tone that quavered slightly. I dunno if it was because I was scared, angry, or shamefully guilty.

I'd been caught. I should have known that this thing with Paul wouldn't have gone unnoticed forever. Not that Jesse had. Noticed, I mean. But you know, he wasn't exactly skipping with delight that Paul Slater was in my room. Jesse's eyes lowered from my face, and onto my bed. At Paul's hand to be exact. That, and how messed up the bedsheets were.

My heart stopped beating for a second, and I swallowed. His eyes then graced my neck, where Paul had - erm . . .

'Jesse, it's not - '

'You were kissing him, weren't you?' Jesse said in a toneless voice. 'Upon your bed. That mark on your neck is no dog bite, Susannah, I am not simple.'

I opened my mouth to protest, to deny it, to lie, but nothing came out. My voice chose THEN to stop functioning

I grinned at Suze expectantly. I didn't answer because I wanted to relish hearing the words from her lips, not my own.

"Yes, I kissed Paul Slater. Yes, we were making out on my bed. Yes, that's a really nice hickey he gave me on my neck. Yeah, Jesse, I want to have wild mad sex right this moment with him. I'm going to bear ALL of his four children. None of which will be called Nathaniel or Superfly."

I took a step back from him. I couldn't lie. He knew. I couldn't say that I hadn't been kissing Paul. I mean, I couldn't even use the defense that "he'd kissed me" anymore, because, although that was true, I'd most definitely kissed back.

I looked to Paul, and saw that he smirking.

. . . He thought this was funny . . .

Then I looked back at Jesse, and - oh God . . . the look in his eyes was murdering me. There was fury, and hurt.

'I wasn't - I didn't - it was just - ' I attempted, but I couldn't dismiss it like that. 'Jesse, it was an accident - '

His eyes got even darker. 'Kisses do not happen by accident.'

'For once, I agree with you, Jesse,' I said smoothing out the creases in the bedspread. A victorious smile tugged on my lips, the same lips Suze was kissing not to long ago.

I think I've just won. Again.

Jesse stopped looking at me. He was looking at Paul's hands. Not because he had developed a hand fetish. I don't think he was even seeing Paul's hands. With that, he just shook his head, and had dematerialized.

I was just gawking at where he had been standing, in horror.

What had I done?

Um . . . you want a list, Suze?

That's it. He disappeared. Poof. Jesse just gave up.

What just happened?

Pinch me. I must be dreaming.

Suze looked like . . . I don't know, a zombie. Half dead. Which I guess is what happens when your dead boyfriend breaks up with you.

'Jesse may be gone, but at least the bed's still here,' I said, trying to lighten the mood by patting the mattress with my hand.

I just turned, and looked at him, my mouth still half open.

And then, with a lurch of movement, I'd laid a fat one on his nose.

This time, however, lips were not involved, so much as fists.

I didn't think I'd broken it. It wasn't even bleeding or anything. But he started swearing his head off all the same.

'What the hell's wrong with you?' I yelled, holding the bridge of my nose in case it started bleeding. 'What the fuck did you do that for?'

'GET OUT!' I screamed back at him, slipping to my knees, and hiding my head in my arms against the edge of the mattress

She looked like she was about to break down. The part of me that wasn't doing the I'm-right-you're-wrong-dance was kind of feeling bad for her. Sure, it was her thing going out with an old-fashioned spectral image. But I just felt a tad guilty because she couldn't help it.

After all, she'd met him first.

It would have been totally different if she saw me first.

'SUZE! DINNER!'

I went kind of stiff. I looked up slowly, and totally ignored Paul.

Doc's voice called out, 'Suze has got her friend over at the - '

'COMING!' I shouted over him. Paul could get out by himself. I sniffed, and closed the bedroom door behind me.

'Fine, then,' I called after she left the room, 'Don't invite me to dinner.'

It was no use. What else could I do? I wasn't about to crash their little dinner party. And I definitely wasn't going to leave like Suze wanted me to.

Nope. I stayed. I flopped down on Suze's mattress and laid down, trying not to think about the pain my nose was in. Instead I tried to think about other things.

I sat down at the table in a grump. Andy came along and laid a plate in front of me. In the middle was a huge bowl of spaghetti, enough to feed the Mission Academy, let alone the Ackermans and me. But whatever. I grabbed a bit with the spoon provided, after the boys had taken their share. Now I saw why Andy had made so much.

Mum gave me a look. 'Susie? Why are you so quiet?'

Oh, I dunno. Because I just got caught kissing the guy I hate, by the guy I love, and how the guy I love hates me, while the guy I hate probably still loves me.

'Nothing,' I murmured. 'I'm not hungry.'

'Your turn to do dishes,' Brad attempted quickly.

'It is not,' I said hotly.

Then I pushed my chair in, and went upstairs. I was going to kill Paul when I saw him tomorrow, and just REFUSE to go to tennis. How could I go, after what he'd done? What I'D done?

I sighed as I pushed open my door, ready to flop on my bed -

. . . But someone was still there.

'WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING HERE?' I asked shrilly.

'Oh, you know. Shooting the breeze,' I said casually, blowing a hair that fell down in my face away.

She looked really red now. Flushed, but not in the passionate way as she had earlier. More of the kind of flush that says "I AM GOING TO KILL YOU".

But I didn't have to worry. So what if she did kill me? That wouldn't necessarily get rid of me. Just make me immortal is all.

Immortal . . . I like that.

I went a very dark shade of red. I'd kick his ass if I had to . . . Maybe I should just un-hottify his lips, or something, so I had no desire to kiss him any more?

'Get up,' I said dangerously.

YEAH. SO I CAN MAKE MY PUNCHES HURT MORE.

I stayed in my same position and chuckled.

'Why don't you lay down here?' I suggested.

She rolled her eyes angrily at me, but I still saw that her cheeks remained a deep crimson. She didn't think I was serious, but I assured her of what I meant by patting the bed next to me.

'You look tired,' I told her. 'They say bed-rest is the best thing for someone who's sick.'

Though, I really didn't plan on letting her rest, if you know what I mean.

I put my face in my hands. Half pleadingly, I said, 'Why won't you just leave?'

He'd done ENOUGH. Jesse knew. Jesse knew what I'd done, what I'd LET Paul do to me.

Just kisses, you smelly sickos. KISSES.

. . . ON THE LIPS, FREAKS.

She's got a point. Why couldn't I just leave? I mean, I've got two legs. And I have perfectly normal size eleven feet, and ten toes. Nothing was preventing me from getting off the bed and walking straight from the room just as she asked.

She didn't want me there. She'd made it perfectly clear. In fact, she'd even made a fabrication earlier that she was sick so she wouldn't have to see me.

But I couldn't leave. Not when she kissed me like that earlier. I was entranced by her lips. Lead on and thrown into an inescapable prison of thoughts of what happened and what COULD happen.

And now I'm not just talking about getting into her pants, however nice that might sound.

Her potential is great, not only in Tennis but in shifting. I've seen with my own eyes . . .

I want nothing more than to capture that potential. Take it and run my hands over it, molding it under my fingers.

And now that one obstacle was gone, I had every opportunity. When opportunity knocks, I answer it and try to take advantage of it as much as possible.

I was tired. Tired with Jesse, tired from Paul, tired from hiding everything.

And I did possibly the weirdest thing I've ever done.

I went to the other side of my bed, turned so I was facing away from Paul, and then laid on my side, shutting my eyes.

I still wanted him gone, don't get me wrong. I was getting no pleasure out of him being on my bed, beside me. But I really didn't have the energy to yell and scream at him. He'd sucked that out before.

She lay down beside me, and I fought the urge to jump her right then and there. I extended my hand to touch her, but if I did I knew she'd jump off the bed. I kept my fingertips millimeters away, not quite touching but still satisfying since I could still feel the warmth her body emanated.

I wanted to respect her, but at the same time I wanted to violate her. I wanted to love her, but I also wanted to lay her. I wanted her in my arms, but I wanted to feel her panting beneath me.

I thought of all the things that Jesse could say to me . . .

"They call women like you certain names, back in 1850, Susannah . . . "

I swallowed and drew my hand away. It wasn't good to feel the way I felt, was it?

If it was, then screw it. I'd been damned to hell a long time ago. And now, I could use a little company . . .

I wonder what Mr Thompson would say if I informed him that my tennis coach only wanted to make out with me. THEN, I'm sure he'd let me quit. And then I could throw tomatoes at Paul, but it wouldn't be any good, because it wouldn't matter anymore since Jesse would have already left me. Maybe he'd stay? Maybe he'd forgive me? Maybe I could just say that, you know, um -

. . . You know what?

I really can't think of an excuse.

I glanced over her body and noticed the light outside. It was nearly dark now. I guess this pretty much ruled out the shifting lesson for today. This fact, however, didn't fetter any other thing I might have had planned.

I turned my body to face hers and knit my fingers in her hair. I dragged my hand gently down her neck, caressed her neck, and lightly brought my fingertips down to rest on her hips

Something between a sigh and a moan was emitted from me.

My hand reached her stomach, and I pushed it to bring her on her back. Her neck snapped to look sideways at me, her emerald eyes darkly lit and her lips parted as if she wanted to say something.

I stared at him for a second, absorbing in the contours of his face. The look in his eyes was weird. Like . . . he didn't actually want to kiss me just then. As if he just wanted to look at me or something.

. . . Whoa. Now that's freaky.

I closed my mouth again, keeping my warnings for him to "STAY AWAY" to myself.

I mean . . . what was the use? He wouldn't go, even if I asked him to.

She wasn't pulling away. She didn't tell me to go away. Her eyes were focused on me, not on the unobtainable Jesse. Would she finally be mine?

I moved closer to her, my hand still on her flat stomach. I traced a few patterns there. My face was close enough to feel her exhale a tense breath.

I closed my eyes again, and swallowed. Oh, man.

Tell him to go . . . please, please - just tell him to go . . .

Let me stay, I begged with my eyes. Let me stay.

My forehead touched hers. Funny, I wasn't aware I was moving closer to her. I looked at her with my eyes half-closed.

This is where the undersea chorus chimes in"Why don't you kiss the girl"

Why not?

And before you knew it, my lips found hers again. All my senses left my mind and went straight to all the parts of me touching her. I don't know how, but her body turned to face me.

Did I do that, or was it her? God, say it was her . . .

Why did I do this to myself? Why? Why did I find it SO necessary to turn to him? I mean . . . what did all this MEAN, anyway?

Was it all over? The constant chasing? The constant battle? Had I finally won Susannah Simon over?

This game is way more complicated than tennis. Risks were involved, the right strategy must be employed, and in the end it was all neglected for strong emotion.

Maybe I hadn't won after all. Suze was the real winner, here.

Was I giving up on Jesse, then? Was that it? Was I finally giving up, and then giving in?

Was that what I wanted?

. . . Was it so wrong if I did?

I pulled her closer to me, my hand finding their way to the small of her back. Mine weren't the only and roaming, either. In fact, hers found themselves massaging my scalp.

Oh, shut up. He has nice hair.

Ugh. Sins of the flesh. I'm a goner.

This was my ticket to heaven on earth. I was baptized in the heat of the moment. No more living in a inescapable hell for me. Paulie's been saved.

His lips still burnt on mine. They still felt wrong. They still felt immoral, like I was betraying something within myself. How could I live with myself? When Jesse knew what I was? And here I was, KISSING him again. Not knowing what I was doing, I was then on top of him, not kissing. Just breathing, with my head beside his, my lips close to his neck. Tired.

I understand. I can't say no to a girl who likes it on top. But she wasn't doing anything besides breathing. I could feel her shuddering breath on my neck.

One of my hands clasped over one of her small hands. I slid her hand up my chest and to my face.

'Come on,' I said, the first words uttered since she lay down on the bed. It came out embarrassingly breathy and pleading instead of commanding as I had intended it to.

You know the scariest thing?

. . . I did still love Jesse.

And yet, I didn't UNDERSTAND what I was DOING. WHY? WHY was I acting like such a . . . a -

You know, one of those things that Jesse would have grown up to shun. The ones who ran around in grossly low-cut tops. Those.

'Suze,' I pleaded again, this time moving her fingertips over my lips.

Remember these, Suze? Remember how they feel on your own lips? Remember how you shake when they trail down your neck?

Come on, come on.

I rolled off of him, sliding my hand away. I felt like I was going to cry. Really. 'Paul, I'm serious,' I said, feeling more like a slut with each passing second. 'You have to go.'

I couldn't believe this.

'Why?' I demanded. 'Why, Suze?'

That's all I wanted to know.

I couldn't believe he didn't know already.

Because you confuse me.

I looked into her eyes, her guilty eyes to try to find an answer.

They looked down at me sympathetically. Apologetically.

Not in passion, not in lust. Not even in, well, love. Just sorrow.

And in the reflection of her eyes, I saw my face. But I knew that what she saw wasn't me at all.

It was Jesse.

I didn't know what to do. All I knew was, Paul HAD to go. I mean, as if he could stay. God forbid, the night. No way. I would never be ready for that with him. I wouldn't do that to Jesse.

. . . Would I?

I am such a useless slut . . . I put Kelly Prescott to shame with my sluttiness.

I became truly disgusted as she just stared down at me with her wide repenting eyes.

I can never have all of her, and I knew it. Because no matter how many hickeys I left on her neck, no matter how many bases I rounded with her, I'd never EVER have her all to my own.

I dropped her hand and rolled away, quickly sitting up on the edge of her bed. I glanced behind my shoulder at her, still looking at me in that way.

I too stood up, and crossed my arms over my chest.

I really, really, really felt like crying . . .

A single tear fell from her eye and trailed down her rosy cheek and landed on her lips.

This is what she wanted, right? Well, she can have it. I mean, him. And while she's at it, she can rip my heart out of my chest and squeeze it until all the blood comes out.

She and Jesse can join hands and skip merrily to hell for all I cared. As far as I know, I'd be seeing them there.

I hope he didn't think of me as that, too . . . oh God . . .

I couldn't bring myself to really say goodbye, so I just mumbled, 'See ya,' and headed straight for her bedroom door. I didn't care how strange it would look, me exiting through her front door at this hour. I could ignore her parent's questioning looks. She could deal with them on her own.

Call his name. Just say it. Tell him to stop. Explain. Don't let him -

I said nothing.

Looking over my shoulder one last time before I turned the knob, I saw it was hopeless. I opened the door and stepped out, walking down her hallway.

Brad, who was walking out of his room in his boxers (must I mention how this is almost as disgusting as Suze bedding a ghost?) and stared at my, mouth gaping.

'What the hell are you doing here?' he asked me dumbly.

I shot him a dirty look and then replied nastily, 'Nice boxers. The ducky pattern really works for you.'

To which he replied with a stream of curse words and then backed into his room again. I continued down the old hallway and down the stairs. Her mother and stepfather were in the kitchen, clearing away dishes when they saw me and froze.

'Hey Mr. and Mrs. Ackerman,' I greeted. 'I was just leaving. Dinner smelled great.'

I slipped back onto my bed, confused and scared beyond all reason. WHAT was happening? WHY did I feel like that? WHO did I actually want? HOW badly was Jesse going to yell at me?

They just looked at each other questioningly. The last person I encountered was Suze's little stepbrother, who looked up at me from his documentary he was watching on the TV.

'What are you looking at?' I asked him testily.

'Nothing I, erm, was just surprised that you would come down this w –'

'Yeah, well, bay windows don't exactly make the safest exits.'

You have no idea how much it all scared me.

I already had a broken heart. I didn't need a broken neck to go along with it.

. . . All for a girl.

And I continued sitting there, till a very sad voice asked, 'Why, querida?'

What a great question.