Sunshine—you are skirting around the key to the whole story.
CHAPTER THREE

The next morning I woke up, feeling very uncomfortable. I sat up from my bed, looked around confusedly, and realized I was still in the clothes I was wearing last night.

My dress was wrinkled, twisted, and hiked up, my hair was a fuzzball, and I still had the necklace from Jesse on.

I quickly took it off—not just because I was peeved at the guy, but because I didn't want to damage it. I changed from my dress into a pair of sweats and a tee-shirt, and started to go downstairs for breakfast.

I was still upset about the night before. I mean, Jesse had basically told me that he wasn't attracted to me. At all.

Nothing is worse than something being unrequited. Jesse was one of the hottest guys I had ever seen—if not the hottest. I wanted him so badly. Not only his body, but his personality too. He was just such an all-around great guy. An extremely HOT great guy.

But knowing that this superior being didn't think I was hot… didn't want to touch me…made me feel inferior. Like one of those stupid freshman who get crushes on the hot senior jock who's going out with the head cheerleader. I felt so stupid, and low, and just… below him.

And it sucked.

It isn't hard if just some random guy doesn't find you particularly aesthetically pleasing. It's like, the feeling's mutual. But knowing the guy who you are just so completely attracted to doesn't feel the same way…

It hurts.

All of this mulling in my head, I slouched down the stairs and into the kitchen. Andy had made Pop-overs (a/n: greatest breakfast food ever, in my opinion), so I took one from the pan and ripped it open, spreading butter inside.

Mom had left a note, saying that they had gone out. We were having my family birthday dinner tonight, and I was almost positive they were out doing some last minute shopping.

The phone rang. I swallowed my bite, and headed over to the phone and checked the caller ID.

"Rodriguez, Jose and Elena."

Jesse.

I let it ring. I wasn't in the mood to talk to him. I listened to the rings, until I heard a beep. "Hello, you've reached the Ackerman and Simon residence. We can't come to the phone right now, please leave a message." Beeeeepppp. Jesse's beautiful voice echoed through the kitchen.

"Susannah, I have a feeling you're here, but if you're not, please call me back. We need to talk. I know you're… upset, and I want to know why. I want to make it right." I snorted. "Just… please. Call me back." There was a hint of something in his voice at the end—desperation? Exasperation? Exhaustion? Whatever it was, I ignored it, and pressed the delete button as soon as he hung up.

After I finished up my second pop-over and was starting on my hot chocolate, the phone rang again. I sighed, fearing it was Jesse again (bit stalkerish, if you ask me… calling twice in twenty minutes?), but the little screen said "Slater, Paul." He had his own phone line.

Groaning, for some reason, I picked it up. "What do you want?" I asked.

"Suze, hi. I'm doing fine, how about you?" He said brightly.

"Paul, don't give me crap. Why are you calling?"

"I told you yesterday, Suze. I made a huge mistake. I am so sorry." I yawned. "Seriously. I don't regret anything more than I regret what happened." His voice went slightly husky. "Well, I don't regret anything that happened while we were together… because that was amazing. We're amazing together. We're meant to be together. I care about you, Suze. More than I've cared about anyone else, ever." Surprisingly, his voice was incredibly sincere and apologetic. I softened toward him. "I want to see you. I need to see you. Can I come and pick you up? We can go out for lunch, or something?" It was already 11:30. I sighed.

And, for some reason, my lips began moving, forming words I wasn't willing to say. "Fine. Pick me up in an hour."

"Good. I'll see you then."

And then he hung up.

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Afterward, my mind flew with questions I was asking myself. Why had I accepted? What about Jesse? Don't I remember what he did to me?

What was I going to wear?

It didn't have anything to do with Jesse thinking I'm ugly, I reasoned as I washed my hair in the shower. Paul wants forgiveness. Isn't that what Father Dom is always telling me to do? Forgive others?

So really, I'm going to see my ex boyfriend because a priest told me to.

Right?

After my shower, I slipped into a pair of jeans and a button down shirt, and blow-dried my hair and made sure I looked good.

All awhile, I kept berating myself for accepting… and not calling him right back and telling him to go screw himself.

Still, though, an hour after the phone call ended, a horn honked outside in the driveway. I quickly pulled on a coat, grabbed my purse with my house keys and cell phone, and closed the door.

"Hey, Simon," he greeted, leaning across the seat and opening the door for me. 'Simon' was what he called me before he asked me out… the teasing-flirting last name thing. I took a deep breath, and slid into the car and shut the door.

He started driving effortlessly, completely relaxed, whereas I felt like there was a spring inside of me that was slowly winding tighter and tighter. "You're seeing that de Silva guy now?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied curtly. He laughed.

"Things can't be going so great if you're here, in my car, with me." I glared at him.

"Things between Jesse and I are wonderful," I lied. "I am only here because Father Dominic wants me to be more forgiving.

"Father Dominic?" he asked.

"The principal at my school." He chuckled.

"He's a mediator, too," I said, without thinking about it. Paul raised his eyebrows and looked over at me.

"Really," he said. I nodded.

"So is Jesse," I added. His eyes darkened slightly.

"Well, I doubt he's a shifter, like us," he said. "He will never be as powerful as you or me." I rolled my eyes. Before we went out, he'd always go on about how 'powerful' I'd be if I trained with him.

He pulled the BMW into a more upscale local deli… one that he clearly didn't choose randomly.

He had first kissed me at Carmel by the Sea Delicatessen.

I was sent awash in memories when we walked in and he grabbed my hand and pulled me over to "our" table in the corner—where we always sat, had our Italian subs, and talked (and often ended up making out).

He pulled out the chair facing the wall, "my" spot. He took the one facing the rest of the deli, as usual.

When the waitress came up, Paul ordered for me—Italian sub with provolone cheese, mayonnaise, oil-n-vinegar, and no lettuce, tomatoes, or onions, with a diet coke. What I always ordered.

He remembered.

After the waitress left, Paul just sat there, looking at me with this half smile on his face.

"What?" I asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

"Nothing… it's just, in the past few months, I forgot how beautiful you are." I blushed, unsure of how to respond.

It was just then that a ghost materialized outside of the window. I saw her first (Paul's eyes had moved from my face… but not too far, if you know what I mean), and I sighed. He moved his eyes back up to my face, and I jerked my head, gesturing outside. He saw the glowing woman, and rolled his eyes.

"You want to help her, don't you?" he asked, bored.

"That's what we're supposed to do," I said, raising my eyebrows at him. This was an old argument. It had happened every time a ghost had come by when we were together.

"Come on, Suze. She can help herself. Besides, there are many more things I'd like to be doing." His voice dropped to a whisper, and a single finger slowly made its way up my arm.

My arm tingled where he touched it, and I suddenly felt very warm. Despite this, though, I was able to jerk my arm back against me.

"Paul, what the hell. I have a boyfriend," I hissed, clutching my arm like he had been tracing a line up it with a knife, not a finger.

He just grinned.

Then he leaned across the table and put his mouth less than an inch from my jaw, right between my ear and my neck. All oxygen left my lungs.

"Fine, Suze… I'll help you do what you want to do, if you help me do something I want to do," he whispered hoarsely, placing the tiniest, lightest, innocent kiss on my flaming skin. "How does that sound?" My body was frozen from shock, but he must have taken my immobility for acquiescence, because the next kiss wasn't nearly as light or innocent as the first one. Just like what had often transpired in our other dates here, his hand suddenly curled around my neck and his mouth opened slightly against my jugular. I'm sure he could feel my rapidly beating pulse against his lips.

Until suddenly my mobility came back, and in one motion I pulled my hands up from where they were gripping the edge of my chair, shoved his face away from me, and pushed my chair back from the table.

"Paul!" I whisper-shouted. I reached down to the floor, grabbed my purse, and started to get up. "I'm leaving."

"Suze, no!" he said anxiously. His desperation made me freeze. "I'm sorry. I promise, I'll keep my hands to myself," he said, but then his voice became slightly husky. "I just couldn't help it. Suze… I'm sorry. It won't happen again." His sincerity convinced me to sit back down, however reluctantly.

The waitress came then with our sandwiches, and I was relieved for something to distract me from Paul's obvious desire to, well, touch me. I scooted my chair as far away from him as possible, and started eating carefully—not only because his eyes were still hungry (and not for the sub that was in his hand), but because the last thing I wanted was for a glob of mayonnaise to plop onto my face—or worse, my jeans.

"So tell me," he said, after taking a swig of his root beer, "How have you been?"

"Well, my bruises finally faded," I said scornfully. "It only took about a month." He looked uncomfortable.

"Suze… I am so, so sorry about that," he said, after swallowing his bite of sub (with a bit of difficulty). "I honestly don't know what happened… you know I was never, ever like that, except for that one time… breaking up with you was a really hard decision. I cared a lot about you, and couldn't stand seeing you so upset about something I did… I just snapped. My sadness came out as anger."

"Cared? Past-tense?" I asked.

"Care," he corrected. "I did then, and I still do." I put those last four words in the back of my head.

"So why did you break up with me, if you cared about me so much?" I asked derisively. He sighed, and looked across the restaurant.

"I don't know," he said. "It was stupid. I was—am—crazy about you. But Matt-" his best friend "-said that it isn't right to have such strong feelings at this age. That it was bound to end up badly. And I listened to him, and thought that maybe if I broke up with you, then I'd stop caring about you and I wouldn't get hurt." He shook his head. "It was one of the stupidest things I've ever done, Suze, and I hope that one day you can forgive me."

I swallowed, unsure of what to say. That certainly wasn't what I expected. "You weren't good in bed," yea. "I wasn't ready for a commitment," sure.

But that he was afraid to get hurt, and was confused because he cared too much about me?

Not so much.

Unwelcome feelings of regret (for being so angry with him) and forgiveness began to overwhelm me. Suddenly, I almost wished I hadn't stopped him before…

"I think I should be getting home," I said faintly, setting down my food. I had only eaten half of it, but I was no longer hungry.

"Of course." He wiped his hands on the napkin, and went up to the cash register to pay. I got into my jacket, and he led me back out to his car, holding my hand.

The car ride was completely silent… except for in my head. There was an inner debate going on, with two sides of myself screaming and yelling at each other in my brain. One half said, "What are you, stupid? That guy basically hit you, used you, and dumped you, and now you want him again? When you have Jesse, who is completely enamored with you?"

The other half was shouting back, "But Paul really likes you. He seems crazy about you—something Jesse isn't. Who 'doesn't want to' be with the girl they're supposed to be with?"

By the time he pulled into my driveway, I had a raging headache and was so confused I wanted to throw up.

"I had a really good time," Paul said as he turned off the car. "It was wonderful to see you again." I nodded, and reached for the door handle when suddenly his hand was on mine.

My eyes widened, and I saw his face slowly approach mine, his lips only the slightest bit open.

Soon, his warm, soft lips were on mine, and I felt a rush of nostalgia. His hand moved to the back of my head, tangling his fingers in my hair, ever so gently massaging my scalp, holding me against his lips as he deepened the kiss, smoothly moving his tongue from his mouth to mine.

And I didn't stop him.

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