This chapter is going to be shorter, since it was originally supposed to be part of last chapter. But that also means you get a quick update, so it balances out, right?
Sunshine—actually, I threw the mediation in suddenly because a reader reminded me. I sort of had put it on the back burner, but since someone requested it, I thought I should bring it back up. It has a lot to do with the actual books, so I decided to bring it back a bit.
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I waited the rest of the day with nervous anticipation. I only saw Jesse from a distance, and he never acknowledged me. I'd use the cliché "I was like a ghost to him," but he can see ghosts. Not the most effective comparison, in this case.
When the last class let out, I hurried toward my locker, but Cee Cee found me. "C'mon. We're going out, and we're going to figure out what to do about Jesse."
"Uh, sorry, I'm busy," I said, while shoving stuff into my bag. She frowned at me. "I've got plans."
"With who?" She started to ask, but I was already hurrying away.
"See you later," I called over my shoulder.
I hurried out onto the street, looking around carefully for Paul—and Jesse. Contrary to my current actions, I had no intentions of forgetting about Jesse. However, despite what Cee Cee said, I wasn't convinced about Jesse thinking I was hot. I mean, she wasn't there. She didn't hear his voice. See his eyes.
I saw a silver car, and went toward it. I slid into the passenger's seat. Paul leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head and he caught my cheek.
He didn't mind, though. He drove off, unaffected, toward his grandfather's house.
"So, Suze, how was your day?" he asked conversationally. He drove casually, with the supreme confidence he exuded whenever he did anything that simply said, "I kick ass at everything I do."
"I'd rather not talk about it," I grumbled, recalling my argument with Jesse that morning. He didn't press the subject, just drove. "What was that shifter information you found?" I asked.
"Well, last night, I was going through some of the folders, and I found some papers that I hadn't read yet—Slaski's notes about some hieroglyphic translations. They were stuck between some pages." I nodded, but didn't say anything right away.
As he drove, he kept shooting glances at me. It got sort of unnerving. On about the seventh time, I asked, "What?"
He grinned. "Sorry. You just look really good today." I blushed.
He pulled the car into his driveway expertly, and parked it smoothly. I climbed out of the car, and he led me into the house.
It was as cold and formal as it had been 4 months ago. "Do you want something to drink or eat, first?" he asked, heading into the kitchen. As I followed him, I heard a cupboard open, and the clinking of two glasses.
As I stepped into the kitchen, the first thing I saw was the stainless steel refrigerator. I suddenly blushed, remembering a time when I was over here after being at the beach. He was about to go find me some aloe for my sunburn on my back, when suddenly, in a fit of desire, he had grabbed me, and pushed me against the fridge, kissing me, whispering wonderful things in my ear. I could practically feel the hard, flat panels of it against my back as I stood there, remembering how his hands tried to untie the back of my halter bathing suit (it didn't work—I had tied it in a tight knot for fear of it coming undone, well, other ways). Let me tell you, the cold metal of the refrigerator did wonders for cooling my sunburn.
Paul smirked at me as he opened it, as if he were remembering that moment between us as well. He filled the glasses with ice, then put water in them. He handed one to me, and we both took a sip.
"Come on, I'll show you the notes," he said. I followed him up the stairs and through the sterile, hospital like hallway, and into his familiar bedroom, where he immediately pulled me down into the very familiar bed.
I fingered the gray down comforter uneasily. Again, I felt a rush of nostalgia as I remembered that night in August… when I was underneath the blanket, underneath him. Images came back to me… of him, looking at me in adoration, kissing me, murmuring things into my neck. I remembering his face above mine, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. His hands gently caressing my face, trying to relax me.
I felt myself getting hot.
"Here," he said. He handed me a stack of old, wrinkled papers. They smelled musty, and I wrinkled my nose a bit. I took the first one, and studied the aged script, written what must have been at least 40 years ago.
Translations of certain walls of hieroglyphics inside several pyramids mention a "Transferal of Spirits." They detail stories of bringing members of important politicians' and religious leaders' families back to life after tragic death. They also mention using a slave as the "vessel." It is my personal opinion that this means that the Egyptian shamans found a way to replace a body's soul with that of another…
"Whoa… so, like, we could bring people back to life?" I asked, while continuing to skim the notes. "Well, in another body… but wouldn't that be like murder? Kicking another soul out of a body?" Paul wasn't answering. He was completely silent. "Paul, are you listening to--" I began as I looked up, but then I saw his face.
He was staring at me intently, with a half smile on his face.
"What?" I asked nervously.
I flinched as his hand took the papers out of my hand, and put them on the bedside table. His other hand went up, and held my face. His thumb grazed my cheekbone. I couldn't breathe.
"Suze," he whispered. Just my name. Then…
"Suze… I didn't realize it then." 'Then' of course being when we were actually a couple. "I was so stupid."
"What?" I asked nervously.
"I love you," he said simply.
My heart literally stopped functioning. Those words… those words I had longed to hear four months ago. That Jesse has never said to me.
Paul. Paul loves me. After four damn months, he finally returns my feelings… even if its too late.
Or is it? A little voice said.
That little voice persuaded my body not to push him away when what happened next. It convinced me to react… react the way he wanted.
His lips were on mine, his hands in my hair. His tongue ran along my lips, which I opened to him. He moaned into my mouth, and fell back onto the bed, pulling me down on top of him.
My hands went to his chest. I ran them up and down, feeling the hard muscle beneath. My mind was no longer attached to my body. No thoughts went through my head as my fingers went to the top button of his shirt.
One of his knees shoved itself between my legs, spreading them apart slightly (a very dangerous thing in a skirt). I shivered, and his hand started flirting with the hem of my shirt.
Suddenly, he rolled over, so he was on top of me. He started kissing my neck, alternating between pecking it and practically sucking on it.
All of a sudden, his shirt was unbuttoned (how did that happen?). I traced my fingers along the skin there, making him shiver and groan my name.
His hands had found their way under my shirt, teasing the skin, getting higher and higher, until…
"Oh my God," I gasped, involuntarily, bringing my hands to his.
He chuckled into my jaw as he began massaging and making circles there… oh wow… he was good at this…
In the corner of my brain, a shrill noise registered. "Paul," I moaned. "The phone is ringing."
"Let it ring," he whispered hoarsely, then brought his lips back to mine.
"This is Paul, I'm either out or busy. Leave one, and if I feel like it, I'll get back to you." Paul's answering machine echoed across the room.
"Hey, Paul, It's Beth." My mind tore away from Paul, who was, at the moment, nibbling on my lip. "I was thinking maybe we could go out tonight, if you're not busy. I had a lot of fun on Friday." Suddenly, this mysterious girl's voice lowered, like she was whispering. "A lot of fun." She giggled. "Call me back. I hope we can repeat it." Click.
Oh my God.
Paul must not have been paying attention, because he certainly seemed shocked when I shoved him off of me.
"What the- Suze? What?" he asked, and actually seemed concerned. "What's up?"
"Beth?" I asked incredulously. "God, Paul, and I really thought you cared." I stood up, and quickly started buttoning back up where Paul's roaming fingers had been. Ew, and it had probably been in this bed. Where I was just…
EW.
"Suze, what are you talking about?"
" 'I had a lot of fun, Paul. How about I come over again tonight so you can screw me again?'" He looked flabbergasted.
"What, that?" He laughed, as if finding out the guy who "loves" you routinely sleeps with other girls. "Suze, you can't think that meant anything. Things were so hard, not having you… she was just keeping me company until you came back around." He crawled across the bed, and started kissing my neck again, but I shoved him away.
"Is that what you said to Laura about me? And to Kelly about Laura?" I asked furiously. I shoved my feet back in my shoes, and started running down the stairs.
God. I'm such a stupid, whorish, IDIOT.
"Suze, stop it. Listen." He had caught up to me, grabbed my arm, and turned me around to look at him. "I really do love you." He smirked. "And, judging by how you were just acting…"
"Keep your bullshit, Paul," I hissed. "Fuck you."
With that, I shoved him away, and got out the front door before he could say another word.
And that's when I began to sob.
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Okay, you diehard PFCers, don't beat me up for the Beth thing. Because really, he did the same thing in Twilight with Kelly.
Anyway, review now.
