Replies:
nikki007- This update is really soon. Trust me. The only sooner I've updated this year is, uh, a month. :blushes:
nebulia- I gather no one reading this is a Paul/Suze fan, for which, I'm kind-sorta glad. (Because of what happens in this and the next chapters). And it IS Suze/Jesse. Even though it doesn't seem like it so far…
Arianna Sunrise- Jesse will come! Soon! Just not… in-this-chapter soon. But I promise, the final three parts will be filled with nothing but him. For obvious reasons, as the end of this and the next parts will reveal. :)
UnangelicHalo- Well, I think Linds is secretly kind of freaked with all the references to her. But she said she's not mad. And she should listen to someone, if not me. Her obsession is, while amusing, very depressing to her palies.
BillThePonyLlama- Oooh, you sound like you like clones. Me too! I voluntarily wrote a paper on them and their rights last year. Which I got the lowest grade I've ever gotten on a writing assignment before. (I was sad, but someone told me to get over it. Just in a harsher phrase than that. LOL.) The sunset thing is weird… freaky… but hun, why were in googling sunsets in the first place? :cough: I hope it's not why I think… some people say I have a pervy mind… Pfft… I SO DO NOT. I think I'm going to google sunset soon myself. Teehee. :D
DarkenedStar- Really, Cherriey? REALLY? It's actually descriptive enough? In the past, people have told me I'm too descriptive. By chance or choice, I don't know, but I thought this story totally lacked details. Thanks for clearing it up! Hehe.
Clavel- Oh Clavie. At first, I was going to say, kidding-ish, "Of course I rock. I know I do." But then I realized I haven't got a clue how or why or when I do. P.S. Does the MotU thing have to do with Star Wars, by any chance?
Kimou- Aw, I'm sorry Jesse wasn't in it. I have divided this story into six parts so the first three will be all PAUL, and the last three will be all JESSE. I really hope you all stick around long enough for Jesse. :tears:
greatmutato- Thank yous. :D
x O te amo x O- You love Tuck Everlasting? But you're not, you know, 100 percent obsessed with it, are you? And do you like the ending? Or are you like a certain someone else I know, who concocted this totally inane (not that I would ever say that to her. KIDDING. About the inane part, lol), yet really, really sweet, and not all impossible alternate ending for it. You should talk to her. She absolutely loves any and everyone who shares her sole movie obsession. One of her hideouts is the Mediator in General forum at MCBC. You will have NO trouble recognizing her, on account of the fact under almost all of her posts, there is a TE quote. (Which I'm convinced is half because she wants to drive us nutty).
A/n- Thank you all so so SO much for the reviews. I seriously thought I was going to get like, two or something. But you all have made me incredibly happy. Thank you!
Chapter Two: Tongue: The Musical
The Sunday night after our kiss, we sat in Paul's apartment, watching TV in his living room.
More accurately, making out on his couch while sporadically glancing at the TV screen. Reruns of Fear Factor was on. It was rather disgusting, trying to play tongue-hockey while your head is inevitably positioned directly in front of the TV, where you have this really clear view of people trying to eat tarantulas.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on the sensation of Paul's lips pressed hard against mine, his left hand caressing my back, his right on the back of my head. I focused on the feeling of our bodies tangled together, fitting as neatly as two pieces in a jigsaw puzzle.
Much better.
After several more minutes (which seemed like only seconds) of making out, I heard pleasured groans escaping from the throat of someone that was not me. In a flash, a hand was under the front of my blouse and began snaking its way up toward my bra.
I jerked away. Involuntarily.
Even though Paul's large, cool, and callused hand against my bare skin felt even better than his tongue in my mouth, even though no touch has ever felt so good in my life…
I knew it wasn't right. I wasn't ready. I mean, true, I've been pining for him for one year already. I know I'm practically his stalker. I know that now that he had finally shown some interest in me, I should jump at this chance and let him take away from this god-awful world called Real Life and into the land of complete and total bliss.
Heck, I've been telling myself that for the past few days: to just go along with it if he wants to take things farther than mere kissing.
My heart had agreed.
The problem is my head. I think I was born a prude.
And that had resulted in him sitting at the center of the couch, with me in a frizzy at the edge of it.
"Suze?" Paul spoke, his eyelids heavy and voice husky. He cleared his throat, and pined me down with a stare.
The unspoken question hung in the air between us.
I giggled, the worst thing possible I could've done.
"Uh," I said, picking at invisible lint on the sofa. "The thing is… watching and listening to this show at the same time as… you know, is really freaking me out…"
I gestured at the screen hopelessly.
Paul's head turned, and mine followed suit.
What was on was a commercial about Tampax.
Great. Just my luck. Now Paul's going to think feminine stuff disgusts me, and that makes no sense whatsoever.
I peeked at him from the corner of my right eye. He saw it, smirked, and scooted over until we were almost squished together again.
"Suzie," Paul said soothingly, touching my bare arm. A tingle, mixed with a sinful chill, traveled through my body and stopped at the soles of my feet. "If you're not ready, just tell me."
I stared at him, wondering what exactly he would do if I did tell him. To some, it might be evident that he said what he did to be assuring, to promise that it's okay if I feel uncomfortable. But I've been around too much and seen and heard words just like these too often to go for the most obvious meaning.
Even if he's Paul Slater.
"It's really okay if I'm not?"
He buried his face into my neck and nibbled on my skin.
When he spoke, his voice was breathy. The sound of it made my heart skip a beat and soar right through my chest and into the nape of my neck, where it was gobbled up by the one whose mouth was pressed so firmly there.
"I'm not going to pressure you. Not now, not ever. The decision is yours, Suze."
His head emerged from my chestnut hair. He looked at me, his eyes big, sad, and blue as the ocean. Deep yet so pure. So real. So honest.
"I know as well as you do that the flesh isn't the heart."
I swear to you, I stopped breathing for one minute, and the world stood perfectly still. Unmoving. I raised my head higher and my eyes were directly aligned with his. My gaze penetrated his, and his in turn pierced into mine.
When the moment was over, I could hear the sound of the television again, and the front door opening as his parents finally came home. I could feel that I was sitting on a designer black couch, instead of cirrus clouds. I could see the blinds and the TV behind Paul again, instead of the puffy white haze I had thought was heaven.
"Time for you to go, Suzie," Paul said, grinning and playful like he was before when I first came through the door. "Come on, I'll take you home."
But nothing was going to hide the facts.
"The flesh isn't the heart…"
If you dig a little deeper, Paul Slater basically just said he loves me.
Until we meet again, wake up with the dawn.
I took the words of Jesse Tuck -my own Paul- to heart. The next morning, I got up at dawn. I chose the outfit I think flatters my body type the most. I styled and styled my hair until it looked absolutely perfect. I applied my makeup the most carefully and gingerly I have ever done something before. I even sprayed on perfume.
When I was done, I looked better than I did in a long time.
The thing is, even though I guess Paul and I are a couple now, we don't really act like it in school. Nothing had technically changed. He still says "hi" to me when he passes me in the hall. He stills pays attention to me in class. But he doesn't exactly treat me like I'm his girlfriend. I mean, he walks me to class sometimes. He talks to me during locker break. But he doesn't sit with me during lunch. He doesn't kiss me or hug me or show any affection for me when we're on school grounds.
When I finally got up the courage to ask him why a couple of days ago, he said it's because he doesn't want anyone to know about us, on account of the fact he thinks private lives should be just that: private.
"Rumors will fly," He had said. "Fake rumors. And I don't want you subjected to any lies just because you're with me."
It was so sweet. And his gaze was truly saddened when he spoke.
I believed him. I believed it was sincere, his caring about me.
But now, standing at my locker, waiting for Gina, I felt alone. I wanted Paul's arms around me. I wanted his lips on mine. I wanted his body's warmth mingling with mine so bad. I just wanted to touch him. Is that too much to ask?
Screw rumors, I thought bitterly. Who cares what the hell every-freakin'-one thinks? I could give a damn about the opinions of people in this stereotypical school.
I didn't spent hours getting ready this morning just so Paul can take one look at me, say "hi," and then walk away.
Like hell I didn't.Footsteps sounded from behind me.
I spun around and was met with a view of Gina, dressed, as usual, like she was America's next top model.
"Oh." I couldn't help the disappointment that dipped into my tone.
"Well, I'm sorry I'm not tall, blonde, and have a penis," Gina said sarcastically, dropping her bag on the floor. She drew several books out and started working on her combination.
I blushed. "That's not it, Gin. It's just… last night was awesome. I was really hoping Paul would come around about this protecting me from hurtful rumors thing and just show some PDA."
I added a sigh for emphasis.
Gina glanced at me and her look softened. I had gushed late into morning to her on the phone last night, detailing every single movement and word and emotion that had sizzled in the air between us. Paul and me, I mean. Not Gina and I.
"Hey, he will soon enough." She gave my arm a squeeze and loaded her books into her locker, taking out some notebooks and the things she needed for first period. "It won't be long until he can't resist you in school, Suze. Trust me."
She smiled, a rarity when we're on the subject of one Mr. Paul Slater.
But the smile and the reassurance… it was just what I needed.
"Thanks, Gin," I grinned at her and when she was done, we walked to first period English together, me feeling as if I was could float higher than the flag on top of the flagpole in front of the school.
The first thing I saw when I stepped into Mrs. Connealy's English class was Paul, sitting at his desk, with Kelly Prescott -head cheerleader, student council president, all-around bitch- on top of it.
The desk.
She was draping and leaking all over the place. Her legs were swinging above the ground, covered in Jimmy Choos. Her hands gripped the edges of the desk on the side facing Paul. And her boobs… well, they were practically hanging right out of her skankilicious sweater.
With his trademark grin, Paul was staring at her cleavage.
It was kind of impossible not to.
Kelly was saying something, and Paul looked to be half-listening. The other half had an imagination that was too busy in Screwing Kelly Land.
The jealous-part of my brain said that. Not my heart, which is 100 percent devoted to the good -because there is only good- of Paul Slater.
"Suze," Gina suddenly whispered from behind me. "I know this is a very, eh, disturbing sight, but you're blocking traffic."
I turned around, and noticed the horde of people behind us, all glaring at me.
I didn't realize my attention had stayed on them for that long.
"Sorry," I muttered and quickly scampered to my desk, with Gina following suit and dropping into the chair next to mine.
Slowly, I got out my binder, Romeo and Juliet (the play we're reading in class), and took out my homework. All the while keeping my eyes trained on Paul and Kelly.
By this time, Paul had taken his eyes off of Kelly's boobs. He had progressed on to actually talking to her.
And judging by their sly gestures, movements, and tones that I could actually hear (being not too far away from them), they weren't just having an early morning conversation like Gina and I did in the hallway.
No. They were flirting.
"Hey," Gina said, noticing my aghast expression. "Guys flirt. Especially if they're good-looking and has a girlfriend. It's natural."
She was probably right, since in my days, I've seen countless taken hot guys in our school flirting with single hot girls. But for some reason, I thought Paul would see me as enough.
Enough so that he wouldn't feel the need to be like every other handsome guy and flirt just because he can.
Guess I thought wrong.
"Gin. There is nothing natural about Kelly Prescott shoving her tits in someone's face. It's disgusting."
"That I'll have to agree with," She replied, casting another look at them, whom, by this time, were close enough to bump noses.
"Why don't you go say hello to him? See if it wakes him up."
"What? No. No way. Our policy is to never be act as if we're more than friends when we're at school."
Gina propped her head on her elbow so she was directly looking at me. "Saying 'hi' does not indicate you two are romantically involved."
I shushed her, nervously glancing at my fellow classmates to see if they'd heard. None were even looking in our direction.
"Actually, it kind of does," I sighed, tracing an outline of Romeo from a worksheet. "I've never done it before. He's always the one who greets me first. And if I mess that up today, when he has another girl nearly in his lap… it'll look suspicious."
"As if I'm jealous," I added.
"You kind of are, Suze," Gina muttered as she got out her binder from her backpack, seeing that Mrs. Connealy just walked in and clapped her hands to get our attention. "And besides, whatever happened to 'screw rumors?' I thought you don't care about what anyone thinks of you and Paul anymore."
My cheeks flamed.
I kept quiet as Mrs. Con called roll, took up our homework, and began class.
I didn't exactly have a response for Gina.
"Okay," Mrs. Connealy said, getting out her own copy of Romeo and Juliet. "Today we're doing the scene where Romeo gets the message Juliet is dead. He goes to the graveyard, sees her lifeless, kisses her, and then stabs himself."
She said it so matter-of-factly that I almost laughed. Not because it was funny. But because of the usual irony in this part of the story.
"Paul and Kelly. You two are Romeo and Juliet. Begin."
I froze, my pencil in midair as it halted in its passage to my paper. I stared, as if transfix, as they got out of their seats and went to the front of the room. Paul looked amused. Kelly looked smug.
I wanted to knock that expression right off her face.
A knock sounded at the door, breaking me off from my fantasy of breaking every single finger of Kelly Prescott's. As Mrs. Con turned to answer it, I gave Gina one of my hopeless looks that said, this cannot be good.
She just rolled her eyes. Translation: Get over it. It'll only be a one-second smooch, and Kelly won't even be able to kiss him back. She's supposed to be dead, remember?
I turned back and faced forward just as Mrs. Connealy addressed the class again.
"This'll only take about a minute. Please begin." She nodded to Paul and Kelly, and they were off.
Granted, Mrs. Con didn't close the door. She just stood in the doorway, conversing in a low voice with whoever was there, not paying any attention whatsoever to Paul and Kelly.
But I did. I gave them my full attention. And what I found out was this: they're both really, really good actors.
Paul's tone of voice, his facial expression, and his arm movements almost got me believing that he's really Romeo. Just with blue eyes and blonde hair. And Kelly… take away the slutty attire, and you got yourself a reflection of Juliet.
They were great, and I was totally awestruck. Kelly, I wasn't that surprised with her performance. I mean, deception is her middle name, so technically, if she's so good at lying and deceiving people, she should have no trouble pulling off acting as someone else.
But Paul… I was amazed. And stunned. In a good way, though. It's nice to know that my future husband may have a chance on Broadway.
So I -along with the rest of the class- was pretty mesmerized the whole time they were conversing back and forth, adding sighs or motions here and there for that extra affect. I even forgot that they were supposed to kiss- until it happened.
Romeo/Paul was standing over Juliet/Kelly's inert body, his expression full of remorse and sorrow. He dropped down on his knees and caressed her face tenderly, as if touch alone would set her on fire. A single tear slipped from his right eye as he stared at his "dead" lover lying on the ground/Mrs. Con's desk. In a flash, his lips were on hers.
Red with pink.
The colors mixed, creating a shade of light ruby.
The dead raised from her grave. Kelly's hands grasped the sides of Paul's neck, and his in turn were pressed on her back.
They moved to a sitting position. I watched as their tongues darted in and out of each other's mouth; as their bodies pressed harder together; as their hands moved up and down, side to side, in a rhythmic motion; as their mouths engulfed one another's, still begging for more.
I acutely felt the beat of my heart, thumping out of synch as the sight registered. A ringing started in my ears, drowning out all sounds except for the whooshes of an imaginary wind. My body felt lighter and lighter, carrying me out of the classroom, where I didn't belong.
I wasn't supposed to be there. Witnessing a scene that would shatter my fragile heart to pieces.
Pieces so numerous and minute that it would be impossible to piece them back together.
I couldn't take it anymore.
I couldn't just sit there and watch Paul and Kelly make out as if they've been doing it all their lives. I couldn't just pretend it's all natural, that they're supposed to be doing that, when my world had tilted sideways and my heart was dislocated at all the wrong angles. I couldn't.
I averted my eyes and gazed down at my binder. A jumble of graffiti stared up at me.
The desire to throw up was so strong and potent that at that instant, my breakfast almost came straight back up. My hand was over my mouth, and my feet were on the floor, positioned so I could get up and run out any time.
Thankfully, just then, Mrs. Connealy stepped back inside, closed the door, and turned back to the class. She saw what the whole class had been staring at for the past five minutes and gasped.
Her hand went to her mouth. Just not for the same reason as mine.
"Stop!" Her shriek broke Paul and Kelly out of their reverie. "What do you think you're doing! Romeo gives Juliet a quick kiss on the lips, and then stabs himself to death! They don't start playing Tongue: The Musical! And how could an unconscious Juliet be sitting up, anyway? How could she be kissing someone when she's pretending to be dead!"
She sounded to be in hysterics. Paul and Kelly, who had broken apart -albeit reluctantly- when Mrs. Con's fervid voice first reached their ears, looked at each other guiltily. Paul risked a glance to her face.
It was blotched red with anger. Her glasses fell to the tip of her nose, and her lipstick was smeared. She was breathing heavily with fury and the effort of yelling her lungs out.
"We're sorry, Mrs. Connealy," Kelly said, sounding genuinely so. (Or maybe she was acting again.) "We just got carried away, is all. It won't happen again, we promise."
"Carried away? Carried away?" She shrieked again, stomping her way to them. "You're in a class in a prestigious high school! How could a kiss carry you away into France, huh, Miss Prescott? How a peck on the lip turn into a make-out session for everyone to see? Can you answer that, Miss Prescott? Mr. Slater?"
She huffed, but it was clear she wasn't done. Paul cut in before she could continue.
"Hormones. Pure, unadulterated hormones. You were a teenager once, Mrs. Con. You know it's impossible to resist them."
The look she gave him told the whole world Paul should've kept his mouth shut.
"Hormones! Your excuse is hormones?That is the most ridiculous thing a student as ever uttered in my presence! Believe it or not, Mr. Slater, but temptation happens to be actually possible to resist. Nowhere in the constitution does it say you have the right to give in to your HORMONES!"
A few kids at the back snickered. I, one of the few who agreed with her at that moment, slunk down in my seat and crossed my arms. I listened to her yelling at them some more, while this dark and heavy feeling settled on my chest and stayed there for the rest of the class.
When the bell rang, I was the first one out of the door.
Paul called out my name, but I pretended I didn't hear and walked faster than I've ever walked to my locker. Gina soon appeared next to me and I felt her opening her mouth.
"Save it," I snapped, slamming my locker shut. "Whatever it is, I don't want to hear it."
How old are you?
You really wanna know?
Yes.
A hundred and four.
I'm serious.
So am I. But let's just call it seventeen.
Jesse would never kiss someone else in front of Winnie. Someone she hates, no less, I thought bitterly as I trudged to the girl's locker room for PE. I have physical education at the worst time possible: right after lunch. How they expect us to prance around like ballerinas directly after we've eaten, I have no clue.
At lunch, I had been too busy complaining to Gina (who'd forgiven me for snapping at her earlier) to eat. When the bell had sounded for the next period, I was surprised since I had lost track of time, and then immediately realized all the talking had made me ravenous. I stuffed down my pizza, went to dump my tray, slipped on some spilled coke, and fell flat on my butt. All that resulted in me being late for gym.
As I approached the locker room, I saw that almost all of the girls were out on the blacktop already, stretching. I hurried to the door and lifted my right foot to go in… when I heard Kelly Prescott's voice, yammering on and on to her cronies.
At the sound of it, I stopped right in my tracks. A surge of anger -not unlike the one I had felt before- vibrated through every bone in my body. Memories of her and Paul's display rushed back full force, and a vivid image of their tongues down each other's throats had me silently gagging.
I told myself to calm down, to start breathing regularly again, and leaned against the wall. Her voice was still there, as loud and clear as if she were using a megaphone.
I couldn't help but hear what she was saying.
"Omigod, you guys, have I told you enough how totally awesome last night was? I swear, we are just perfect for each other. Our mouths fit like a cast and a mold, for God's sake. And our tongues together taste like lemons."
She giggled. "And you know lemons are my fave!"
She sounds delirious, I noted as I played with the string of my gym bag, while wondering vaguely of whom she had gotten hot and heavy with last night.
My question was answered in her next proclamation.
"He is just so hot! Giggle. Sometimes I so want to forget about that crap of staying a virgin until I'm married, like all the women in my family have, blahdiddyblahblahblah, and just let him gobble me up. Giggle. Take me away, Paul Slater! Giggle. I want to be yours forevermore!"
The last word was follow by the shrillest giggle of all. If I weren't so frozen with disbelief and numbness at what she had said, I would've definitely concluded that Kelly Prescott was inebriated to the bone.
I mean, What the fuck?
She hooked up with Paul last night? How could she? I was with him the whole time!
Breathe, Suze. Or count to ten. Or whatever. But do NOT march in there and rip all her fingernails off. Do NOT tear out her "precious" hair. Do NOT scratch off her hideous make-up. DON'T. Just breathe, and you'll be fine…
I felt like giving the logical part of my brain a good kick in the caboose. I can be calm and sensible when it doesn't sound like my boyfriend's cheating on me.
"Sigh. It was heaven, you guys. Total heaven. But the fun had to stop when a park ranger shined his flashlight on us. Giggle. We were so worried about getting caught making out in the bushes that in our haste to leave, my jacket got caught in some branches by the entrance. Giggle. It was a good one, too. My father bought it for me in Paris. Sigh."
And she proceeded to talk about how rueful it is she lost her million-dollars jacket.
Big freaking deal.
I slumped to the ground and buried my face in my hands. If what she had said was true, then Paul had somehow met up with her after he dropped me off and they hooked up in some bushes at the park.
But that wasn't possible. Paul wouldn't do that. He's Jesse Tuck! And although Jesse Tuck made mistakes, he wouldn't cheat on Winnie just for the sake of cheating on her.
He wouldn't. And I believed, deep down in my heart, neither would Paul.
Not perfect Paul. Never perfect Paul who has the ability to make me feel perfect when we're together.
Kelly's words startled me out of my reverie again. She had returned to the subject of Paul.
"And you know, you guys, I think he really likes me. I really don't think he regards me as just another bimbo to fool around with. I believe that he actually, really… likes me…"
Her voice wafted closer. Footsteps sounded.
Step away, Suze. She's coming.
I couldn't bring myself to move.
"And our kiss in English today… Sigh. Heaven. Absolute heaven. If someone can't see how perfect it was, then she's blind…"
Get your butt off the floor and get up. She's going to find you here, eavesdropping, if you don't move soon!
"We're destined to be together. We are. As soon as our lips touch… everything feels so right. Everything stands still. Everything falls sideways as if the world is rotating. Everything is a fairy tale."
I almost laughed at her inconsistencies, but the approaching footsteps, sounding only several inches away, shut me up.
MOVE!
Kelly Prescott and her fellow cheerleading friends found me sitting on the floor outside the locker room door, watching people a few yards away stretching as if it were more interesting than anything she had to say.
At the sight of her glaring at me, I stood up, faked a smile, brushed past her, and went inside to change.
After school that day, I phoned Paul.
"Suze." He picked up after the first ring.
Caller ID, I realized dimly.
"We need to talk," He said hurriedly before I even had a chance to open my mouth. "Meet me at the park in ten minutes?"
The park. Huh. The same one you made out with Kelly Prescott in?
I told my evil, satanic part to shut the hell up.
"Sure," I made my voice extra cheerful.
I could feel him smile at the other end of the line.
"Oh, Paul, one more thing," I said before I could stop myself.
"Yeah?"
"Where did you go after you dropped me off last night?" I tried to sound as if the question was asked out of curiosity, as if I really couldn't care less.
Despite that, my heartbeat increased. Drastically so.
"I went home." I couldn't tell anything from his tone. "Why?"
"Oh… so you never ventured into the park?" I twirled the phone cord around my index finger while biting my bottom lip.
"No…" He drew the word out, leaving an imaginary question mark at the end.
"Okay, thanks. I'll see you in a few."
And I hung up. He sounded sincere. And clueless, as if he had no idea why I would ever think he would go to the park last night.
Paul Slater was a good actor, but even someone like Johnny Depp couldn't disguise bafflement that well.
I decided he was telling the truth and Kelly Prescott was nothing but a lying, conniving slut, like I always thought.
He was waiting for me by the entrance. I couldn't help but smile when I saw him there, leaning against the gate, a letterman jacket hugging his body.
"Hey," He said and wrapped me in a hug. I hugged him back, catching a waft of his cologne in the process.
The thought that Kelly indulged in the heavenly smell too when they were sucking face in English class almost sank me back into the terrible mood I was in for the rest of the school after overhearing her conversation.
Chill.
When we walked into the park, I took special note of whether there was a designer jacket lying on any tree branches.
Nada.
A smile blossomed on my face, and I snuggled closer to Paul.
"So, this thing that we have," I said, sneaking a peek at him. "Would you call it… dating?"
Maybe it was just my imagination, but I thought I saw Paul's body stiffen.
"What is dating, exactly?" He said lightly, quickening his pace. "Two people that're romantically involved? Two people who likes each other and goes out every now and then? Two people that're are defined by society as boyfriend and girlfriend?"
"Well," I began, but never got a chance to continue.
"Look, Suze. If this is about what happened today in English… I can explain."
I almost tripped over a levitated crack, but he caught my arm at the last second.
"Oh, please do," I said in answer. I had thought I would have to beg him for an explanation.
He didn't start right away. Instead, he sighed and looked forlornly at our surroundings for awhile. We walked in silence, me waiting patiently for him to begin, him seemingly in another world, rehearsing whatever he was going to say in his head.
Another one of those heavy feelings consumed me, and a dark shadow fell over my heart. I swallowed, willing this loneliness and skepticism of Paul to just go away. To leave.
After all, he said he would explain. Just because he made out with Kelly Prescott when a little peck would suffice didn't necessarily mean he's not perfect anymore. It didn't have to mean he was no longer my Jesse Tuck.
It didn't. I was hurt, true. More wounded by their scene than I would ever admit to anymore. More emotionally bruised by it than anything else that had ever happened to me.
But I trust him. I trusted him to tell me the truth, to give an explanation, an assurance that it meant nothing.
"Paul?" I touched his arm, or, rather, the sleeve of his jacket. "You can start any time now."
He turned and smiled at me, but for once, that gesture didn't lessen my heartache.
"What type of an argument would more likely to win you over," He asked, kicking at a stone. "One presented sincerely, or one presented reasonably?"
His words tied a cold knot around my throat, cutting off my air supply.
I thought about it dimly, and soon we reached an ice-cream stand. The girl manning it looked to be our age. She was dressed in a sundress, even though it was freezing, and smiled at us as we approached.
Paul returned it. I didn't.
"Ice cream, Suze?" He asked as he handed over some dollar bills, not once taking his eyes off the girl, not even when he asked the question directly at me.
"Sure," I said numbly. "Strawberry."
A cup was handed to me. I stared at the swirling pinkness of it, trying to drown out Paul's voice, merrily conversing with the salesgirl, whose giggling in turn could've beat out Kelly Prescott's by a mile.
He was flirting. Again.
In that moment, I caught a sight of his perfect demeanor slip.
Because perfect boyfriends do not flirt with other girls while he knows that the girlfriend is just standing there, watching and feeling as if her world has fallen apart.
As the realization that he may not be all perfect sinks in.
As the doubt that she'd maybe found the wrong Jesse Tuck pricks at the back of her mind.
I looked at the litter-filled ground and willed myself not to cry. Not to break down in front of all these people, dogs, squirrels…
Not in front of him.
Besides, it didn't have to be a big deal. I was making something out of nothing. I was letting my imagination run away with itself.
It was jealousy. Pure and simple.
I took a deep breath and turned to Paul and the girl, who were still talking. "Paul. We need to go."
He seemed a bit startled to see me. But the surprise was there for not even a nanosecond. He grabbed my arm and waved goodbye to the girl, who stared after him with salacious interest.
Not unlike the way I must have looked at him before he showed any interest in me.
"Sorry about that, Suze," He said as we walked side by side. "It's just so unusual when a girl likes Star Wars."
Huh. I like Star Wars.
And so do a zillion other people I know from an online message board.
"So, anyway, as I was saying…" He glanced at me meaningfully. "Sincere or reasonable?"
My gaze involuntarily turned to the ground again. I had no idea what I was going to get with either one.
And a part of me didn't really want to know.
"Sincere," I finally said, thinking, What the hell. At least I'll know the truth as opposed to some made-up logic.
He sighed and smiled beatifically at me.
"Like I told Mrs. Connealy, Suze," His voice was soft. Like spring rain on a rose petal. "It was hormones."
I couldn't believe it. His explanation was hormones? If so, then he had no need to reiterate himself.
"And?" I asked after a silence.
"And… look," He stopped walking and his hands went up to my shoulders. His ocean-blue eyes dug deep into mine. "I'm sorry, Suze. But her lips were just there. And after mine touched hers… well, it was impossible to resist, especially when her arms were around me, pining me down. I couldn't very well just reject her and humiliate her in front of the class."
I snorted. "You're not some kind of saint, Paul. Of course you could've."
It was the first time I had said something to him that wasn't lathered with sweetness and love.
"I know," Now he sounded exasperated. A bit desperate. He ran his hands through his hair and faced away from me. "I told you, I'm sorry. I never should've done it. But, you know, old habits are hard to break…"
He turned to me again and fixed his eyes on mine once more. When they connected, I looked into his soul.
He really is sorry.
"Suze, listen," He said quietly, gingerly cupping my face with his strong fingers. "Please forgive me."
I exhaled and waited for him to continue.
"It doesn't matter where my lips have been… you'll always have my heart."
A/n- Gah. Ellipsis! Too many of them! Argh. I need to figure out another way to connect thoughts without all the dot dot dots. Meh.
Anyway, please review! The next part is going to be really hard to write for me, since Paul does bad things and gets Suze even more heartbroken and yeah…
I kind of just told the basic outline of it. But whatever. This story is already too predictable. Way not just make it more so by giving away the content of every chapter?
:rolls eyes: But, please, review and inspire me?
Love,
Lily
P.S. I'm sorry for the lack of Jesse! But until he comes into the picture, a satanic Paul would have to suffice. :lowers head shamefully: Stick with me, people…