Replies:
Arianna Sunrise- Ouch. I hate guys who goes around making out with other girls even though they already have a girlfriend. In other words, cheaters. Frauds. Insecure jerks. :sigh: I hope your friend saw the guy for who he truly was and got over him. But actually, this is what Suze is going through right now. Even though Paul made out with Kelly in front of the class, she still has trouble seeing him as anything but perfect (because she's stuck on this nonexistent "perfect love" notion).
Strawberry-Shortcake01- It makes you feel special because you ARE special! :hugs: And I knew you would like the TE connection. :) But I never would've gotten the quotes without you anyway. So thankies, of course, darling Lindsay.
nebulia- o.O You said "Yay Paul!" Aww! Wasn't he just the sweetest? Well, he could've been being laying it on reeeeeally thick, but you never know. After that make-out scene, I made him especially nice. :cough: But everyone still thought he was a creep. LOL. Maybe they're right in thinking so… hmmm… But I absolutely heart you for giving the poor guy the benefit of doubt. :D
nikki007- Hunny, he is not hurting Suze yet. Compared to the badder (excuse my grammar. I just like that word. Badder. As opposed to worse. :rolls eyes:) stuff he does later… Paulie's an absolute ANGEL!
Kimou- :looks around innocently: Well… all I have to say is, get ready to hate Paul even more. XDDDDDDD Yay, give Suze the credit. Jesse hasn't shown up yet. (Oh, and whose fault is that, huh? Right. Mine. But he's actually in this chapter. Jesse, I mean.) Teehee.
BillThePonyLlama- You are weirdly hilarious, Samster. I mean, aside from your insanely entertaining review, there's that intro in your profile. "Here's some shizzle on the pony nizzle." ROFLMAO! Well, I found it funny, okay! I started to snort so hard that I had snot all up my nose and mouth and throat and everywhere in between. Well… not that dramatic. But I wanted to provide someone with a bad mental image. Hmph. Can't blame a girl for trying. Anyways… :steals popcorn away from Elf Clone: GIMME THE POPCORN, ELFIE CLONIE!
jesseishot- Jesse will be in the storyline. He will be in it so much you'll get sick of him and want Paul to shoot him. Well, not really. But he'll come into play! This can't be a J/S fic without the J part, can it? :winks:
UnangelicHalo- Oh Katty… who said Paul is telling lies, huh? Who said that his sweet talk can't be the truth? Answer me, Katty! :cough: I'm sorry. I just had an urge to yell at someone. :coughs again: Don't worry. I didn't really mean it. I guess it's obvious Paul wasn't telling the whole truth. :makes sad face:sniffles: But he kinda wasn't. Not everything that comes out of his mouth, anyway. :hugs Kattykins unexpectedly: I'm sorry. I just had an urge to hug someone.
Lisa-Beth- Wow, thank you. I myself wasn't even that good a friend of AUs until I started writing one. LOL. Anyway… my style of writing is actually like Meg's? Wow, this is freaky. I deliberately tried not to sound like her. Well, I didn't try that hard, but still. :cough: And oh, I can't wait for Jesse either! (I'm an idiot.)
DarkenedStar- Yes, damn Paul indeed. But Jesse will save her! Well… kinda. :sighs: I've never been too big of a fan of "knight in shining armor." But Jesse helps her get over Paul, true. After the terribly awful and awfully terrible things he does. AND I WANNA SEE JESSE TOO! (I'm turning even more idiotic.)
Little Tinkerbell Girl- :beams: Well, I try. I love writing emotions, but towards the end of writing part one, where they were on the roof and everything was all emotional, I burst into tears at how sucky it was. Sometimes I wish my emotions would just write the damn emotions for me. If that makes any sense.
Pink-Raven- Oooooh… I never even thought of it that way. The whole different perspective, with "Suze wanting Paul instead of Paul wanting Suze." The idea just popped into my head and I didn't even stop to think how role-reversal it is. Hmmm… thanks for that insight. Hehe. By the way, you might want to read Part Two before this one. Otherwise, it wouldn't make that much sense. :D
Aneesa- Omigod! I so did not ruin Paul! Sorry, just had to do that. :grins: :looks around nervously: :starts to whisper: Don't tell anyone, but I'm a PF too. Yet for some reason, I love writing J/S fanfics. I'm a hypocrite that way. :cries:
A/n- Hi everyone! Thank you so much for your support so far. It has made writing this Part Three way easier. When I burst into tears at the suckiness of it, I looked back at the wonderful reviews, stuffed a whole box of kleenex on my face, and resumed writing.
Chapter Three: The Friendship Constitution
My face, which was still in the grasp of his strong fingers, burned.
Not in embarrassment. Not in the -nonexistent- heat. But in my pure happiness at his words.
"R…really?" I brought my eyes up to search his gaze, looking for the truth, wanting to know that he was being sincere. Wanting for it to be true, wanting to know that he wasn't just playing me.
He couldn't be. No guy could ever have the heart to go around telling girls who mattered to him as much as his own excrete that they had his heart. Because that would be impossible. Because he, in turn, would be heartless if he did so.
If he took the whole thing as a joke.
"Of course, Suzie," Paul caressed my cheeks gently, his voice softer than a mere whisper. "No matter what I do, no matter what my lips may touch… just remember, you'll always have full possession of my heart."
I smiled, and felt tears starting to form at the back of my eyes.
"You stole it from me a long time ago. And frankly, I don't really think I want it back."
With that, he kissed me. Long and deep and pure and full of love.
And you know what? I felt loved. Even though my face was wet with tears by that time, even though everyone was watching, even though there was still a chip of doubt in my mind that perhaps his intentions weren't all that harmless, and even though the kiss felt frivolous to that one several days ago on my rooftop…
I still kissed him back. Because, to reiterate myself, kissing Paul Slater could make me feel perfect. And I wanted that more than anything else.
I wanted a perfect love. And I was convinced he, the Mr. Perfect he was, was the only one who could deliver it.
"Well, I guess this is it," I said as we stopped once we got outside the park. The sky was dark now, and the moon had already came out.
Paul smiled and fingered a strand of my hair. "I'll see you tomorrow, Suze."
"Right." There, in the dark, after that kiss and another stroll, I wasn't sure what was supposed to happen. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to do anything. I wasn't sure what he was going to do.
That sense of unpredictability thrilled me.
Except I was doomed for disappointment.
After looking at me for awhile, Paul pecked me lightly on the forehead and started to walk away, a direction different from my apartment, since his was at another side of the town. I couldn't help the feeling of disappointment that forced its way up my stomach and my throat, leaving a sour taste in my mouth.
I had lived sixteen years of my life, and for every minute of it, I was waiting and wishing for something exciting, that I could actually want, to finally happen. Nothing had so far, and I thought that this could be the night.
Guess I was wrong.
Just as my foot made a thudding sound in its first step, I heard Paul's voice, calling out my name.
"Suze."
Chills sprinkled down my spine as I waited for what came next.
"Yeah?" I called back, turning to face him. I tried to keep my voice neutral, as if I couldn't care less what he was going to say. Inside, however, I was knotted up in excitement.
"I was wondering…" He began, and twirled a strand of his golden hair around his fingers. He looked uncertain for a moment, but then the confidence mask was back on.
Oh my God. Paul Slater was actually nervous. About asking me something!
I kept quiet, knowing that if I spoke, my voice would come out all squeaky and unnatural. Besides, a small part of me was somewhat afraid at the question.
"Do you happen to have a date to Homecoming already?"
I had to blink several times before the words sank in and the importance of the question hit me like a typhoon.
When it did, I found it hard to breathe.
All I could do, as I stood there, staring at him, studying the never-before-seen vulnerable expression on his face, was shake my head "no."
He let out a pent-up breath. "Oh, good," he said, smiling again. I noted dimly that I somehow preferred it when he wasn't smiling. Without any curling up or downs of the mouth, any crinkling in the eye, he just seemed more… real.
"So, would you like to go with me?"
"Uh," I said, hardly believing it. Even though I had anticipated this as a follow-up to the previous question, it still came as a surprise.
My pulse raced. Sweat dripped from my armpits. I forgot how to speak.
God, Paul Slater was just so beautiful. The shadows on his face, cast by the moonlight and the streetlights, outlined his best features.
I guess I didn't say anything for a long time. I guess I was too busy noting his beauty for the fiftieth time. I was I was still shaken up over the fact he had asked me to Homecoming with him. Whatever happened to not letting other people finding out we're together? Whatever happened to stupid rumors?
Could Paul have at last realized his love for me could overcome any obstacles the tribulations of high school may throw our way?
"Suze?" I didn't notice he was standing right in front of me, only inches away, until he was. And then, I gasped because I could feel the heat radiating from his body, could see the intensity in his eyes.
"You want me to get on my knees and beg?"
"No, no…" I giggled nervously. The sound came out wrong. Strained. Like a scratchy song that didn't belong to a hummingbird.
"I mean, yes, I will go to Homecoming with you. I would love to." I straightened up my spine and tilted up my head so we were gaze to gaze.
He grinned, showing all his white, modeling-material teeth.
"Perfect."
With that, he walked away. I did too.
All the way home, I felt lighthearted. Like my heart shrunk to the size of a ping-pong ball, but weighed nothing.
I didn't understand the feeling. Partly because, even though I know I was supposed to be happy, so contented that I could start singing then, I wasn't. Happy, I mean.
Not all 100 percent of me.
I felt carefree, true. Like all my worries had been blown away. But I did not feel as if love had given me wings and I could fly. I did not feel like the happiest girl in the world. I did not feel as if that exciting thing, that event I had been waiting and wishing for all my life, had finally happened.
Instead, I felt rather empty.
I mean, yes, I was, in a way, excited. After all, how could I not be? I'd never had a date, much less to a school function, before. It would be nice to show up somewhere where you're supposed to have a date and actually have one.
If that makes any sense.
Anyway, Paul had asked the question on Monday night, only five nights away from the dance. Homecoming was on Saturday.
I spent all afternoon on Tuesday in the mall with Gina, running around and trying to find a dress that didn't make me look slutty or too flat. One that wasn't all ugly, either.
One that I would fall in love with. One that Paul would want to jump me in.
One that if Winnie wore, Jesse Tuck would fall in love with her all over again.
It was hard. We found absolutely nada at the mall. It was when we went to her house, disappointed and worn-out, and I opened her closet, that I saw the perfect dress for me.
She had never even worn it before, because, in her own words, she grew three inches in a month and the dress was suddenly "too short" for her. Also, "the colors" matched her skin tone "all wrong."
It was green, the exact same shade as my eyes. The dress fell to my toes, not an inch more or an inch less. It was a simple design, made with 100 percent polyester, but looked and felt so much like real silk. Patterns of leaves and flowers dotted the dress all the way until the last centimeter of the fabric. They didn't stand out; they blended in with the cloth, as if they belonged there.
I loved it. It was a perfect fit, and it didn't make me seem like a prude or a slut, since it was revealing, but not too much so. There was an open circle at the back, where my partner could put his hand when slow dancing. The shoulder straps were about an inch wide and hung perfectly on my shoulders.
"Gin…" I said softly, letting my word trail off. I wasn't sure what to say, exactly.
Gina waved her hand in the air, as in, whatever. She rolled her eyes and smiled at me. A real, genuine smile between best friends.
"Take it, Suze. It's yours."
I squealed (so un-me!) and tackled her in a bear hug.
Even though I was strangely hesitant about my date (reason still unknown. I was trying not to think about that walk home much, but it never strayed far from my mind. You know when you shoo something away from your thoughts, it always comes back full force? That's what it was like), at least I had the perfect dress to wear.
Jesse Tuck: You're the first human I've ever wanted to know the truth.
Saturday dawned bright and early. I was up at six on the dot. From eight in the morning to five in the afternoon, Gina and I were out, getting our nails/hair/whatever done and doing a little last minute shopping. By the frantic way we were preparing and freaking out, you would've thought it was the freaking senior prom or something, instead of just a yearly Homecoming dance.
By six, I was sitting in the living room, trying hard not to bite my fake, manicured fingernails. It was fortunate that I had gotten my nails done. Otherwise, they would've dissolved into nothingness in my skin and lines of blood would've been appearing on the tip of each finger, and I'm sure that would turn Paul on dramatically.
NOT.
But the longing to start gnawing away was a sure sign I was nervous, scared, and excited all at once, because my nails had not went anywhere near my mouth since I was seven.
"Mom, what time is it?" I asked for the zillionth time. I started to fidget with my dress, but then, after a thought of wrinkled greens and messed up flowers, my hands went back to sitting neatly and stiffly on my lap.
"Suze, relax," Mom said, coming to sit down by me. She moved as to touch my perfectly made up hair, but her hand paused in the air when she saw my death glare.
"Six o' one," She said after a glance at her watch and a sigh. "Honey, he'll be here. Guys are late. They always are."
A flashback from my conversation with Gina on Monday came to mind:
"Guys flirt. Especially if they're good-looking and has a girlfriend. It's natural."
So I guess not only is Paul Slater like other guys in the fact that he flirts even though he has a girlfriend, he's late on appointments too.
There goes my hope that-
Ding-dong.
"There goes the bell," Mom said, feigning apathy. But her bright eyes, the alertness in her facial expression, and the fact she sat up a little straighter on the couch totally gave her away.
Who could blame her? Finally, after sixteen years, I get a date to a school dance. Of course she would wonder who finally brought me out of my "introverted world" and into one a "normal teenager could appreciate."
Excuse me, Mother. I know you don't exactly approve of those late-night phone calls from police officers. I know you don't enjoy visiting me in the hospital just after you applied your face mask. I know everything I do worry you. I know by society's standards, I am not what you would deem "normal."
But the thing is, I have never felt normal before in my life. Maybe I'm destined to abnormal. Or abnormally normal. Or whatever.
Besides, people in love never feel normal. If I could have even one thing in common with them…
"Suze? Are you going to answer it?"
The bell sounded again, and I found Mom looking at me expectantly.
"Right, sorry," I muttered, getting up and walking to the door nervously. "Got caught up in some thoughts."
I grasped the knob. I was suddenly aware of the fact my palm had turned sweaty.
Breathe, Suze. It's Paul. Just because you two are going to a school function, just because you'd be seen in a different light from today on, just because people who've regarded you as less important than dog shit will start bowing down to you once they see you with Paul…
I turned the knob. It wouldn't budge.
Maybe it was the wrong way…?
For Christ's sake. The knob should turn both ways.
But I tried the other way nonetheless.
It still wouldn't turn.
BREATHE. Maybe it's just jammed. No prob. No problem at all.
I held onto it with both hands and started to pull. I jiggled it and watched and listened hopelessly as it stayed in the same place. Unmoving.
Beads of sweat appeared on my forehead and hairline. I know because when I reached up to touch my face, to feel how bad I was burning up, I could feel them. The sweat gathering.
God, don't hyperventilate.
I started to breathe in small gasps. Leaning against the cool wood of my door, I wondered why it was my door that had to get jammed. And on the most important night of my life, no less.
Being a Mediator has cursed me. Seeing, speaking to, and helping the dead has managed to bestow me this cursed life.
I couldn't even go to a stupid dance without something going wrong. What was I supposed to do now, drill a hole in my ceiling, climb up to the rooftop, and jumped down straight into the embrace of Paul Slater, who would have gotten my telepathic message and would be standing out on the street, arms stretched out, ready to catch me?
Right. I didn't think so.
For some reason, tears came to my eyes as I thought of how fuckedup my life has been. And still is. And how I can't do anything I like and having it go as planned. And how everything I've ever wanted turn out to be either all wrong, or something I never was going to get.
The salty tears cascaded down my face. I slumped to the floor and didn't even try to stop the flow.
What was the point? I wasn't going to go anywhere anyway. Might as well rest and let my mascara get smeared.
Shut up, Suze. And get your butt off the floor. You got Paul, didn't you? And you wanted him, didn't you? He was your one and only desire. You have him.
"You shut up," I told the good and logical part of my brain.
So you can't say you never get anything you want.
I burst into tears. Real ones. Big, fat ones that didn't seem too intended on stopping any time soon.
Mom rushed to me in a flash and gathered me up in her arms. She cradled my head in the crook of her elbow, and I didn't even care she was messing up my hair.
"Suzie, what is it? What's wrong?" She looked at me so worriedly, so tenderly, that all it did was make me cry harder.
The bell dinged. Again.
Making my voice as quiet as possible, which wasn't that soft, on account of the fact my voice sounded all nasal and I was trying to stifle my sobs, I told her in between gasps of air. "The doorknob… it wouldn't… it wouldn't… turn…"
I sniffled, and snot clogged the inside of my nose and started to flow down again, getting all tangled in the bridge of my nose and the upper lips of my mouth. I felt disgusting.
Mom stood up. She gave me a strange look.
"Suze…" She said, putting her own hand on the knob.
"Vhat?" I asked, trying to clear the heavy snot and other stuff from my throat. I stood up too.
"The door. It's locked. Next time, you might want to try to unlock it before you turn the handle."
I stared at her. And then at her right hand as it took ahold of the tiny lock in the center and twisted that so it was lying horizontally instead of vertically, like it was before.
Something exploded inside of me. I couldn't pinpoint what, exactly, but the part of me that could still think rationally then was just glad it wasn't my heart.
(A/n- I know it may seem so, but that incident there wasn't completely insane and pointless.)
"So," Paul said in the limo as we were on our way to the school. "You look great."
He was only trying to make conversation, I could tell. I didn't think he wanted anything to do with me then. Even though after we (my mom and I) figured out the door problem, I had gone to the bathroom to clean up while she stalled him, he was suspicious. I looked pretty much like I did before my face was covered with snot when I emerged from the room. Yet Paul… he knew something was up. He knew something was wrong.
But he, being the gentleman that he is, didn't say anything about it.
I muttered a "thanks" in reply to his compliment, and we sat in silence for the rest of the ride. He seemed uncomfortable, and I was sure I came off the same way. All of a sudden, the dress felt scratchy and too tight. The shoes felt like it was going to eat up my toes one by one. My purse didn't look like it matched. My nails seemed like claws.
I felt like I was in someone else's skin.
Finally, after the oh so awkward ride, we arrived at the school. He came around to my side to open the door for me, and I got out, trying very hard to be graceful.
I don't think I pulled it off, since I tripped on the way down from the limo and had to grab onto the sleeve of his suit in order not to fall off and break both legs.
Immediately after we entered the gymnasium, which had been transformed drastically (it no longer smelled like last year's cheese, last decade's eggs, and last century's socks), I noticed Paul's eyes roaming.
I stood there beside him and waited as he looked for whomever. I clutched my handbag tighter in my hand and brought it up nearer to my face. Somehow, that offered a sense of security even though it seemed I had nothing to be unsure about.
Finally, Paul turned to me, the usual grin on his face. "Listen, Suze, I'm gonna get us drinks, okay?"
Before I even opened my mouth, he made a movement as to go.
"All right," I said as I watched him walk away. Not toward the concession stand, but toward a group of his friends.
"Hey," Gina said, appearing from behind me. She had come dateless, something only someone as sophisticated as her could pull off. "You guys are way late. What happened?"
"Um" I mumbled, a dull feeling starting in my chest. "It's a long story.
"And I have all night." She leaned against a tall pot holding a humongous plant, which seemed to be fake. She didn't look to be in any hurry to join the crowd and start dancing the night away.
I changed the topic. "Wow, you look great. How has your night been so far?"
"Thanks. It's been okay." She eyed me suspiciously. "Where exactly is your date?"
"Off getting drinks?" I said. "Paul's not really acting like himself tonight."
The music suddenly stopped. Gina straightened up and faced me. "I could say the same about you. Suze, what happened?"
I fixed my eyes on the front of the room, where the student council had set up a little stage. Principal Marverly stood there, looking a bit strange in the iridescent glow of the lights. She had a nervous expression on her face, and in her hands was an envelope.
"Look," I nudged Gina, pointedly ignoring her question. "She's about to announce the Homecoming King and Queen."
A snicker escaped her lips. "As if I care. I bet it's Kelly Prescott and the latest star on the football team."
I shrugged and dragged her over to the front, where people were gathered, waiting for the announcement of the results. Personally, I didn't care much either who won, but I desperately wanted an excuse to get out of that conversation.
I wasn't ready to tell Gina. I could hardly face the reality of my stupidy myself.
Principal Marverly cleared her throat. She stuck the microphone out of its holder and spoke into it. "After this week of voting, I'm glad to say we finally have the results for Homecoming King and Queen!"
She proceeded to talk about how even though those two were voted, everyone was a winner, yadda yadda yadda. I tuned her out and I couldn't help it when my eyes began to travel around the room, looking for Paul.
He had brought me here, after all. He was my date. Wasn't he supposed to stay by me or something?
"And the Homecoming King and Queen of 2005 are…"
She took a deep breath.
"KELLY PRESCOTT AND PAUL SLATER!"
Holy shit.
I grabbed Gina by the arm. "Did she just say what I think she said?" I whispered frantically. My fingers dug deep into the fabric of her dress as I watched, transfixed, as Paul and Kelly made their way to the stage.
"Suze, chill." Instead of sounding as if she was going to explode, like I did, she sounded bored. "Being Queen and King just means they're the most popular girl and guy in the school. It's no big deal."
Okay, I told myself. Listen to Gina. It's no big deal. So they're Homecoming King and Queen. That doesn't mean they have to start sucking face.
I told myself.Up on the stage, Kelly was accepting her tiara, a conceited expression on her face. Paul just looked amused.
"And now!" Principal Marverly yelled again, looking -and sounding- wild. "The special spotlight dance between the two chosen ones!"
With that, she hightailed it off the stage, leaving the whole space for Paul and Kelly.
The lights in the gym dimmed. A slow song came on, and a spotlight was shone on them.
Paul shrugged and held out his hand for Kelly. She took it, still looking smug.
"I think I'm going to barf," I said, watching Kelly dissolve into Paul's arms. She nestled her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.
"It's just a dance." Gina reached over and gave my shoulders a squeeze. "It'll be over in three minutes."
"Right."
The soft melody of the music continued playing, and they danced on that stage. More accurately, they were just shuffling their feet. Which, I guess, is what you're supposed to do when slow dancing.
Seconds ticked by, maybe even minutes. But the song didn't stop. I wanted to stop looking at them, resenting Kelly for being in my place, but I couldn't. My eyes were glued on the "King" and "Queen." No matter how hard I tried to turn my head, to envision another sight, to pretend I was somewhere else, I still came up with the same image: What was directly in front of me.
Kelly snuggled closer to her partner, and Paul held her tighter. They were enveloped in an embrace so taut that I for one wouldn't have been surprised if their body parts shattered to pieces from the strain.
What's he thinking about right now? I wondered as my gaze followed them in their brief movements. Dancing with Kelly? Screwing Kelly? Just Kelly? Or could it be… me?
I wondered as my gaze followed them in their brief movements.Somehow, I doubted it. If he cared so much about me that I were on his thoughts while he was sharing a special dance with another girl…
Well, he wouldn't look so blissful and content right now.
Unexpectedly, Kelly lifted her head and gave him a quick peck on the lips. Several girls in the crowd giggled. Looking at it from someone else's point of view, the gesture would've seemed sweet. But staring at it from mine was a whole other story.
Just then, I had another one of those feelings that my body was hollow and the lightness of it was carrying me off the ground and into the night sky. I felt like I was blending in with the clouds, the stars, and the moon. It didn't seem as if I was in my own body anymore. It was more like I was up above, gazing at an unfamiliar scene the meant nothing, yet everything, to me.
The music started to beat even slower. I was dimly aware of the fact I was floating even farther up. My mixed up emotions held me up and flew me away from that image of the man and woman together, a tangle of arms and legs. They tried to rescue me from the sight that caused my heart to ache with a dulled pang, to crack like a piece of fragile glass.
What exactly is this feeling? I wondered vaguely. It wasn't hatred. It wasn't jealousy. It wasn't even vengeance.
It was loneliness.
Just when the thought reached my brain, the music stopped. Everyone clapped as Paul and Kelly reluctantly withdrew themselves from each other. Gina rolled her eyes and commented on how overrated the whole thing is, as if two popular folks and a stupid dance was going to determine the whole history of this high school.
Kelly got carried off by her friends, leaving Paul there alone. Gina saw this, and propelled me forward.
"Go on," she hissed, still pushing me, seeing I wasn't exactly moving voluntarily. "Here's your chance."
And she let me go.
Maybe I was hypnotized or something, but I managed to make my way to him. Just as I was getting ready to call out his name, some of his friends materialized next to him and dragged him off.
I was alone again.
Letting out a deep sigh, I made a beeline for the concession stand and picked up a slice of pizza. I nibbled on it as I watched people around me dancing, all having a good time.
The ache in my heart deepened.
After several more bites, I threw my pizza in the trash and set out to find Gina. I winded my way throw lots of couple, not caring I was breaking them up while they were holding hands/kissing/dancing. I was perfectly pissed off.
I didn't end up finding Gina. What I did find, however, was Paul and Kelly in a darkened corner of the gym, gazing at each other as if they were the other two people on the planet. As if the noise and everyone else yelling and making a commotion didn't bother them one bit.
My jaw dropped open and I froze in my tracks when the image registered. I didn't have much time to be upset, however, because then, somehow, a group of people behind me got overly dramatic, and I was forced to step forward in order to avoid having any of their body parts in my face. When I took that step, though, my foot didn't land on the nice cool ground. Instead, I tripped over the boombox cord and was flung forward…
…Straight into Kelly and Paul, who, by that time, were just getting ready to kiss.
When I landed on them, Miss Grade-A Bitch let out this shrill scream that pierced my eardrums worse than any sharp needle could.
I picked myself up, trying to be as elegant as I could. Ignoring Kelly and the stares I was getting from other people, I turned to Paul and said, "Take me home."
I didn't bother keeping myself down. I didn't care that it sounded shaky. All I wanted then was to get the hell out of that place.
"Suze…" He tried to grin, but didn't quite make it. I could tell he was going to try to persuade me to stay or something, but I just stood there, arms crossed over my chest, looking down at him helping Kelly off the floor.
"I want to go. Now."
With one glance at my determined expression, he let go of Kelly (whom managed to stand up and restrain herself from pulling out every strand of my hair) and led me out the door while everyone in the gym kept silent and looked on with shocked expressions and opened mouths.
When we were completely out in the fresh air, Paul turned to me, a grim look on his face.
"What was that all about?"
I kicked a tree branch on the ground. "Nothing. I just wasn't having a good time and wanted to go home."
He didn't look like he believed me. I knew he wanted to say more, but a conversation about it would only lead to the fact that he and Kelly had almost kissed in my presence (again). I wasn't so sure he wanted that.
We both walked toward his car, a thick silence between us. The aura emanating from Paul told me that he was pissed off.
I guess that's understandable, since someone like him probably stayed all night at these school dances.
Oh, and the fact he didn't get to kiss Kelly.
When we were almost at his rented limo, Paul stopped and grabbed my arm. "Listen, Suze. I'm sorry, okay?"
I didn't feel like dealing with this again just then. "Can we talk about this some other time?" I asked, tiredly rubbing my eyes.
His grip tightened and held until I looked up at him. He wasn't going to let go any time soon.
"Paul," I hissed, trying to shake my arm off. "Look, I'm worn out, upset, and completely pissed off. I came here tonight expecting it to be one of the best nights of my life. Instead, it has turned out to be a disaster and I would like more than anything to just erase this from my memory. Right now, all I want to do is go home and soak myself in a bath. I do not want to have any conversations with anyone. I do not want to listen to any excuses or apologies. I just want to go."
When I was done, I was feeling so exasperated that I was almost seething. I couldn't believe I had yelled at him, but what was done was done, and I wasn't exactly feeling too regretful over it. Paul, in turn, just stared at me for awhile and then shrugged. A grin -forced?- overtook his features and we continued the few feet to the limo.
I followed him as he went around to the passenger door to unlock and open the door for me. Even before he stopped in his tracks, I knew something was wrong.
Peeking over his shoulder, I saw a medium-sized cardboard box on the ground. The lid was folded so it closed perfectly. A large dog, perhaps a collie, stood over it, sniffing the top.
We would've left the dog and the box in peace. We would've left it alone. But the problem was, they were blocking the passenger door, preventing it from opening.
Paul lifted his foot up to the body of the collie.
"Um," I said, alarmed. "What are you doing?"
"Move," He muttered, thrusting his foot into the dog.
It stared up at him with eyes darker than the color of the sky before dawn. A flash of defiance appeared there.
"Paul, don't," I warned, touching his arm, afraid of what he was going to do next.
He shrugged my hand off. Before I even realized what was happening, he chambered his foot back and drove it, full force, into the poor dog.
He landed several feet away with a high-pitched bark that lasted a tenth of a second. He picked up his fallen head and stared at Paul and me, the eyes unreadable. After what seemed like a great struggle, he stood up, collapsed back down, and stood back up again. His legs shook, but they held. I watched helplessly as the dog limped away, glancing back at us before crossing a corner. Out of sight.
I myself was shaking too. My voice wobbled as I turned to Paul and looked at him. I opened my mouth, but found I was at a loss for words. I had no idea what to say to him, no clue what I wanted to say.
"It was in the way," he said in a bland voice. Then, seeing my completely appalled expression, he grinned and joked, "What else was I supposed to do? Kiss it and hope it turn into a frog and hop away?"
To my ears, it sounded like, "What else was I supposed to do? Kick it, torture it, kill it, eat it, and forget about it?" That barbarous thought was as bad as the asinine joke he made.
"But… but you kicked a dog," I didn't know what else to say. "You kicked it dog. You severely injured a dog."
He sighed, as in, big deal, Suze, get over it. Instead of answering me, he kicked the box aside and unlocked my door, opening it for me.
He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to get in.
I glanced at the box and thought I heard small squeaks. "Wait. I just want to see…"
Stooping down, I gingerly opened the top. The inside, I was startled to see, housed rats.
Five tiny, newborn ones, gathered around the mother. They were all nibbling on her belly, and if I didn't just witness my boyfriend blatantly abusing a dog, I would've thought it was the sweetest thing ever.
"Aw," I said nonetheless, peering in closer to get a better look. "Look. Baby rats. Aren't they cute. I swear, if my mom would let me kee-"
I broke off with a gasp as my eyes adjusted to the darkness and, from the streetlight, I saw what the baby rats were really doing. I saw the truly grotesque part of the picture.
"Interesting," I heard Paul comment from somewhere near me. "Very interesting…"
He was wrong. It wasn't interesting. It was sad, it was gross, it was appalling. It was anything but interesting.
The sight wasn't nearly as innocent as I originally thought. Because upon my closer look, I knew instantly the baby rats weren't nibbling their mother like the affectionate rats they allegedly are. Instead, they were sucking on her blood.
Somehow, someway, their teeth had managed to penetrate a hole in her belly and tear a piece of skin off. All five rats were hunched over on that spot, desperately fighting their siblings to get one more drink. One more suck of the blood of the one that had brought them into this world. One more second of torture their mother had to endure.
The mother's eyes were closed. But by her ragged breathing and the twitching of her legs, I could tell she was still alive. Suffering.
My heart went out to her, and I knew, at that moment, that even rats could feel pain. Just like dogs. Just like humans. And to have a piece of flesh eaten away from your body, to have your blood sucked right out of you by the ones who are supposed to love and be loyal to you… it was hell on Earth.
My fingers trembling, I folded back the lid on the box, wrapped it in my arms, and stood up. An unbelievably strong feeling of dizziness blanketed itself around my head, and inadvertently, I collapsed on the hood of the limo.
Paul eyed the box I was holding, but chose to ignore that fact. "So, ready to go?" He asked. Maybe I was still too shaken up to think straight, but I thought he sounded just the tiniest bit impatient.
I nodded. "Yeah. But we need to stop by the animal shelter first to drop these rats off."
For one second, I almost thought I saw his horror and disgust on his face, but then he was smiling again as if nothing had ever changed in his facial expression.
"You're kidding, right?" He continued to smile at me and added a laugh in. As in, haha, Suze, you're so funny. That joke almost made me go piss in my hello-kitty underwear.
"No, I'm not." I hopped off the hood and was glad that the nausea didn't return. "I need to take them to the animal shelter."
I lifted my head up and looked into his eyes so he could see how serious I was. He stared at me, and then began to laugh.
The sound was filled with nothing but irony and disbelief, leaving no room for real humor.
"Just what exactly do you think those people are going to do to these rats, Suze?" He said, his tone suddenly colder and harsher than the chilling New York air. "Care for them? Clean them? Feed them? Send them to a vet?"
Here he laughed again. I flinched at the ice bricks that filled every square inch of the sound.
"Don't fool yourself. They're either going to be euthanized right away, or be sent to some laboratory for the use of animal testing. You really think you would be helping them?"
"And frankly," he added, seeing that I didn't respond. "I don't feel like driving there. I'm going to take you home and make no detour on the way."
His jaw was set and firm. His eyes flashed, and I knew he wasn't going to cave in.
What I didn't know, or understand, was why he was acting that way.
His words echoed in my mind and I felt that dizziness again, this time accompanied by a faint ringing in my ears. I stared at him, not even aware of the fact I was trying to find, in that mess of impassivity and unfamiliarity, the old Paul I knew. The one who was nice, sweet, and funny. The one who satisfied my thirst for a certain Jesse Tuck in my life. The one who quenched my desire to have a perfect love. The one who used to make me feel whole. The one who once implied he loves me.
Either that was too deeply buried on this unforeseenly horrible night, or it just wasn't there anymore.
Paul studied my face. I wasn't sure what he saw since I didn't know what was there myself. My emotions were a mess and I couldn't tell one feeling from another. I felt all wrong all of a sudden, as if someone -or something- had taken me apart and screwed me back on clumsily, missing gaps and holes here and there, not covering up areas that shouldn't be exposed.
In other words, I felt vulnerable. For the first time ever, I wanted to be away from Paul Slater. Among other things that were too confusing to define, I wanted him to see my vulnerability as much as I wanted to eat a plate of horse manure.
He sighed and crossed the short distance between us so he was standing directly in front of me. I had no choice but to meet his hard gaze and wish the steel in his eyes would disappear and be replaced with the warmth that was there the first time we kissed.
"Look, Suze, I like you and all," he started, his voice clipped. "But you've ruined too much of my night already. I came today to have fun. To dance the night away. To hang out with friends."
And to make out with sluts.
"I wanted to dance with you and get to know you better too," He continued, his gaze never leaving my face. "But you disappeared after I told you to wait for me while I went and got us drinks. And then, after the spotlight dance, you didn't come to find me, much less congratulate me. When you finally turned up, it was to ruin the only action I was getting tonight. Then, immediately, you demanded to go even though you just knocked me over and I was on the floor. Did you ever stop to think maybe I didn't want to go just yet?
"And you know what, obviously you weren't having any fun. But that didn't mean you would be bored to tears for the rest of the night. Maybe if you ventured onto the dance floor, maybe if you broke out of your shell and actually socialized with the people there, you wouldn't have felt like you did. Invisible. Alone.
"Me, I was actually enjoying myself. I obeyed your command to take you home not because I wanted to. Not because I thought it was the right thing to do. I did it because I felt sorry for you.
"You don't even know who you are, Simon. You kid yourself into wanting things that are totally trivial and wrong for you. You don't know what it means to just live. And tonight, I got dragged into your little façade. And that complete and totally pissed me off."
He exhaled, and that's when I knew he was done.
"So now, you can come back to the gym for the rest of the dance. Or I can take you straight home."
I could feel his eyes boring into my head. I could feel him waiting for a response. Not to the above question, but to his little speech.
It had taken a lot, I could tell, for him to unveil his real thoughts. For him to finally come clean about what exactly he thought of me. For him to stop hiding in his grins and smiles and do something that could result in me having an emotional breakdown.
But I wasn't going to. I wasn't going to do anything about what he said. I wasn't going to let it get to me. It hurt, it did. But that didn't have to mean it was the truth. The truth cuts like the knife. What he told me… it hurt like a thousand needles were stuck to my heart.
"Suze? You gonna answer me?"
His voice was soft all of a sudden. But still, it showed that he didn't regret a single thing he had said.
I walked away, away from him. Holding the box in my arms, I concentrated hard on the stop sign a few yards in front of me.
Yet nothing -not my footsteps, not the drumming in my ears, not the squeaks coming from the box- could drown out his departing words.
"Fine, Simon. Just run away. I know right now you're convincing yourself that I never was the person you thought I were. I know you're thinking you're better off without me. I know you think I'm corrupted and depraved for what happened that day in English and tonight. I know you're drilling into your head that I dated you as an experiment. But guess what? I didn't. I dated you because you were intriguing. But all I saw and still see are layers and layers of lies.
"You know, I thought I could help you emerge from your cocoon. You don't believe me, I can tell. You still think I'm this adulterated cheater who views making out with other girls as part of a relationship. You still think I manipulated you.
"And that's not true. You were the one who cheated your life away by pretending and living in this dream world. The only one who manipulated you is yourself."
After I dropped the box of rats off at a local animal shelter, I turned to go home. Out walking on an isolated, abandoned street, I took off my stilettos and put it in my handbag. Some buses rumbled by now and then. Other than that, I was completely alone.
Alone with my thoughts. Alone to think about those parting words. So utterly alone that the sentences vibrated in my heart and turned itself over and over in my brain. So alone that I was forced to listen to repeats of the same message until I felt an urge to go off myself.
I didn't want to listen to what Paul had said. I didn't want to care. I didn't want to believe a single word that came out of his mouth.
Maybe that makes me the exact kind of person he had described. Maybe that's precisely what he was talking about, seeing me as this fraud, not wanting to believe anything other than what I lead myself into thinking.
But if I don't feel like listening to the opinion of me from someone who isn't even me, then I won't.
And the truth is, I wasn't thinking of what he said. The full meaning of those words hadn't completely sunk in yet. I wasn't grasping what exactly he wanted me to grasp. I wasn't going, oh, so that's how I really am. Haha. Guess I better go do what he says and go buy myself a clue. And a life too, while I'm at it.
Actually, no. I was stuck on the shattered image of Perfect Him.
My thoughts were revolving around how my perfect Jesse Tuck turned out to be pieces of imperfection when I heard a whirring sound from behind me. I turned around, and was met with a view of a guy on a bicycle.
The first thing that popped into my mind was that he was crazy. No one goes cycling in New York City this late at night. My second was that he had the darkest, blackest eyes I had ever seen.
That was very easy to pinpoint, since he was staring straight at me, giving me a full view of his orbs.
"Hello," He said once he caught up with me. But I wasn't just standing there or anything. I kept right on walking. There was no worry that this guy was going to either a). kidnap me or b). rape me or c). harm me in any way whatsoever.
For one, no bad guy who has wrong intentions says a polite "hello" when he approaches the victim. For two, the vibe from him contained nothing that indicated the slightest shady activity.
"Hello," I said back stiffly. I was curious about him, but I was determined not to entice any trouble.
"It's dangerous for a lady to be out alone so late at night," he commented, riding his bike slowly beside me. "Especially if she's dressed in such a, um, alluring manner."
He sounded a bit embarrassed by the second remark that came out of his mouth. For some reason, his modesty and embarrassment at himself provoked the tiniest smile on my face.
Choosing to ignore the latter comment, I replied, keeping my voice as neutral as possible; "Riding a bike this late by yourself in New York isn't exactly safe either. Especially on this street and part of the town. You shouldn't be here."
"And you should?" Now he sounded amused. I peeked at him out of the corner of my left eye, and was startled to see him train his eyes on me instead of the road ahead.
"I use it for a shortcut to my apartment." I wasn't sure why I was telling him that.
"Ah." After a pause, he continued. "I don't live around here. I'm from California, and I'm visiting relatives for the week."
I nodded. Since there wasn't exactly a suitable reply that wasn't all mega-duh, I settled for saying nothing.
"Since we're both alone near midnight," the guy hedged, a bit tentatively, I might add. "And according to you, that's even more dangerous in New York… you want some company?"
I glanced sideways at him. Black hair, black eyes, chiseled cheekbones, a perfectly fit and muscular body. He seemed totally harmless.
I just wasn't so sure I wanted any conversation. Talking to a mere stranger -or anyone, for that matter- about anything other than the dangers of New York was sure to bring back memories of the last conversation I had. Or, rather, the last time someone talked and I tried not to listen.
"No," I finally answered. "But I wouldn't mind any."
I felt him smile.
"I'm Suze," I offered, stopping and turning to look at him.
He stopped his bike also. "Suze." The word tasted funny coming from his mouth. For the first time in my existence, my name sounded vulgar.
"Susannah," I added hurriedly. "It's short for Susannah."
This time he grinned, and I found myself staring at his white teeth and prominent cheekbones. His eyes lit up too, making the smile real. In the speck of light cast by a streetlight yards away, I caught sight of a scar in his right eyebrow.
Huh. Maybe he isn't as innocent as I thought.
That thought, though, didn't scare me. It didn't affect me at all. I felt this strange sort of trust and calmness toward him, and it most certainly didn't hurt that he was good-looking.
Very much so.
"Susannah," he said now, the smile still on his face. "As in-"
"Yeah. As in that." I rolled my eyes, and he laughed.
It reminded me of Paul's laugh back at the school parking lot, even though this guy's sounded nothing like it. Paul's laugh was fake. It was meant to show his disgust. But this stranger's… he honestly found it entertaining.
Still, just the thought of Paul chilled me and brought goosebumps onto my skin. An image of him popped up, and somehow my heart felt heavier.
Pushing thoughts of him away from my mind, I turned my attention back to the person beside me.
"My name is Hector," he was saying. "But all my friends call me Jesse."
An alarm went off inside me, startling me out of my wits. I don't know if I was trying to be coy or if I was really that paranoid, but what came out of my mouth in response was: "An introduction doesn't exactly constitute friendship."
I was looking at him while I said it. So I was watching when surprised dawned on his incredibly beautiful features. But after awhile, he merely shrugged good-naturally. "You're right. Of course it doesn't. But I don't exactly prefer the name Hector. No one ever calls me that except for my parents."
"Right." I laughed weakly, mentally slapping myself. "I was, um, just saying. It didn't really mean anything."
I started walking again, wanting to get away from the totally unnecessary humiliation. I heard the wheels turning as Jesse followed behind me.
Nothing was spoken for a long time. I gathered he was probably regretting choosing a girl who reads that deeply into a freaking introduction as his late night ride buddy. But, me… the silence was affecting me again. Without either of us saying anything, I was back to having my thoughts stuck on a certain Paul Slater.
I wasn't thinking of his words to me that he probably thought were all important. For God's sake, I was doing everything in my power not to go back to those words that told the story of someone's views on me, Susannah Simon. I didn't think I was ready to analyze them yet.
Instead, I was once again caught up with the worry I had somehow mistaken him for perfect. That somehow, I spent more than one year convinced he was my version of Jesse Tuck. That he was Mr. Perfect, Mr. Right For me, Mr. Provider of Perfect Love.
Gina would say I was blinded by what I thought was perfect on the outside. All of a sudden, I wondered what the stranger beside me would say.
That thought scared me. I knew nothing about the guy except his name and that he came from California.
Even though small fragments of my thoughts were on him, it was still a surprise when I heard his voice, breaking the silence. "You want to talk about it?"
"Huh?"
"Something's bothering you, obviously," he said softly. I was amazed someone masculine like him managed to sound so soothing. "I know you hardly know me, but… I have a good ear. I always end up being the shoulder people cry on."
He shrugged and grinned sheepishly. I looked back at him. His expression was pure. His eyes were clear, not clouded with doubt or iniquity. His whole face was one that was, though handsome, trustful and lined with warmth.
And his eyes… I found it hard to believe black could be so see-through. But even though they held all the positive traits a friend could be thankful for, there was a spark in there that told me when forced or wrongly provoked, he wouldn't hesitate to fight to protect his dignity or anyone close to him.
Protector. Definitely among other things that I knew nothing about, he was a protector.
And, like he himself said, "a shoulder to cry on." I had no intentions of crying on his shoulder (even a broad and sturdy one like his), but it would be nice if someone listened to my troubles.
Besides, I didn't know the guy. I would never have to see him again. I could spill, he could listen and give me advice, and then we'd say bye bye and never talk to each other again in our life.
The thought of emptying the thick and confusing contents of my heart out was extremely appealing.
He was still looking at me when I glanced up to give him a reply. His face was totally earnest, the expression of someone who, no matter what I said, wasn't going to make fun of me. Someone who was going to take me seriously and treat me like a real friend.
I couldn't help it. I couldn't stop myself. Before I could have any second thoughts, I told him.
Not the WHOLE story. I gave an edited version, without my obsession over Tuck Everlasting and my lusting after Paul Slater for a year without knowing the true him. Basically, I gave him an outline of what happened tonight. I told him about wanting perfection, about wanting a perfect guy, about wanting a perfect love. I told him how I thought I had found Mr. Right, but now I didn't think he was so right anymore. I told him my disappointment as the guy I thought was perfect turned out to have huge imperfections after all. I told him my anger and hurt with an "terrible incident that occurred tonight that made me doubt him."
I told him every minute detail, leaving out what actually happened.
And when I was done, I was incredibly glad and relieved that I had spilled.
A/n- That's not the end to their conversation and the night walk/ride. But because my fingers wouldn't stop typing, I managed to spout out a chapter that's eight pages longer than it's supposed to be. And therefore, I had to leave out parts of this part and move it over to the next part. i.e. the second half of their conversation.
And I am very, very sorry for the length of this. Like I said, my fingers have a mind of their own.
Please review. I would really like to know what you readers thought of this chapter, since I myself have mixed feelings with it. While writing it, half the time I thought about killing myself for the suckiness and the other half I just wanted to go to sleep (let's just say I finished very late at night).