F l a s h l i g h t

by Stark Raving Lolly

Nathan Blake. Robin Lawrence. Charles Austin. Bart Ford. Four boys, all dead. A violently haunted exboarding school. A fire in 1969. A man named Cole to run from. A mystery to be solved...and a love to be determined. Busy, aren't we Suze? [FINISHED]

23. Crime of Passion

OUR APOLOGIES FOR THE OBSCENE LENGTH OF THIS CHAPTER.

Muahaha. LIVE WITH IT.

Lol. Sorry it took so long. But here it is . . .

The Chapter.

Hate it or love it.

Love, Lolly and Hayley.

-8-

CeeCee and Adam stopped tongue-flirting pretty much as soon as I came in, but then realized it was just me, and resumed. After all, they knew I could handle it. If it had have been, oh, I dunno, DANI watching, they would have pretty much quit. After all, she's the oh-my-Britishness-I-can't-believe-that-you-didin't-get-her-a-RING Nazi.

'What are you cooking?' I asked blandly.

'Garlic prawns, with rice, in honor of Gilroy,' CeeCee said proudly. 'I was just letting Adam taste the sauce. It's really creamy. Want to taste-test, Simon?'

'Not if I have to use the same spoon,' I smiled. 'Might pick up mono or something, the way you two go at it.'

Adam grinned. 'Or Herpes. The gynecologist just got back to us, didn't he Cee? We're both mad with it.'

. . . Eww.

CeeCee elbowed him, grinning.

'Can I help with anything?' I asked politely.

'Nada, Simon. Too many cooks spoil the broth,' Adam sniffed at my lack of cooking expertise.

'You're not making a broth,' I pointed out.

He looked puzzled, and then grinned. 'An EXCELLENT observation, Miss Susie! Indeed then, we bestow you the ancient honor of Greek salad-making.'

I beamed. 'Go me,' I said.

'And we have feta cheese, even,' CeeCee said excitedly. 'And dressing! Adam made me get it 97 per cent fat free for Dani.'

'She won't eat anyway,' I rolled my eyes. 'You shouldn't have bothered.'

Nevertheless, I joined my two best friends at the counter where CeeCee's prawns were boiling right next to her rice. The steam rose gently, swirling around in a misty ascent just like the incense had done when I was attempting my exorcism.

The exorcism that failed terribly. More than terribly . . . miserably.

Gah.

'Well,' Adam said, 'As a compassionate human being, I thought it only fair to purchase dairy products so as to woo Ms. Moore to succumb to the delights of food. Sin . . . sin . . .'

CeeCee stared. 'Idiot,' she concluded.

Adam pouted. 'Aww. Sticks and stones may break my bones but whips and chains arouse me.'

. . . Is there even a reply to that?

'Eww, Suze, wash your hands.' Ignoring Adam, CeeCee wrinkled her nose as I was about to grab the lettuce, 'Why are you so sooty?'

Oh. I guess now that I'm an official pyromaniac, I need to conceal the evidence a little better.

I smiled grimly. 'Don't ask.'

She and her lovely fiancé turned curious eyes onto me. 'We're asking,' Adam said, a goofy little grin on his face. 'Did it involve mud and naked chicks?'

'No,' I said, running my hands under the water, and cleansing them with soap, 'I almost died. Same ol' same ol'.'

CeeCee looked rather disturbed by this. Her black pupils surrounded by her misty violet irises, dilated. 'Did they – did the ghosts try to bury you too? Did they – '

'Nah,' I almost laughed. 'I'm just, to quote Paul, a "frigging idiot." I tried to exorcise them. Didn't go so well. Almost got cooked.'

Adam went still. 'Cooked?'

I did laugh then. But it was very uncomfortable. 'Oh. Uh, yeah. Fire and stuff. Pretty nasty.'

The prawns were still steaming. 'How did you get away?'

CeeCee's face was white. I mean . . . okay, so it's always white. But it was REALLY white.

That grey colour it sometimes gets, you know?

I hmph-ed. 'Paul,' I said bitterly.

Ha. Makes you think that, what, I actually didn't WANT to be saved or something. I mean, that wasn't strictly true. I didn't want to DIE, sure, but to be saved by PAUL? That was just embarrassing. I hated how he kept seeing how weak I was all the time. And he was so right. I had been stupid and reckless. I mean, it was HIS brother, and HE hadn't gone after the naughty Misforties, had he?

No.

But then again, Paul is anal and doesn't give a toss about Jack.

Well . . . actually . . . he was hugging him pretty hard when he almost got crushed by the book case before.

So I don't know.

I really don't.

Said midget came into the kitchen then, looking a little worse for wear. The bandage still stood out on his face.

'How's the little casualty?' Adam asked, stirring the rice a little because he had nothing better to do while it was cooking.

Jack grinned brightly. 'Do I look that bad?'

Ha. Any girl would be SPITTING if they looked like he did. But Jack's weird. He IS the type to be proud of his injuries.

Then again, Jesse likes the scene in the Godfather where the guys are showcasing their various scars. I guess Jack and his little buddies do the same.

Maybe it's a guy thing.

. . . God. Men are so screwed up.

'You look absolutely horrible,' I commented.

Jack beamed at me. 'Really?'

'Really really,' I assured him, shredding the lettuce and putting it in a bowl to wash with my now FRESH, CLEAN, VERY HYGIENIC hands.

Adam abandoned the rice, and went over to Jack, and began talking about how this one time, when he was eleven, he fell off his bike ant into a ditch, where he broke his leg and got a severe scratch down from his knee to his ankle, and how CeeCee had panicked so badly and neither of them had a cell phone.

'I didn't cry though,' he said in utmost masculinity.

'You so did,' CeeCee snapped. 'And you kept saying you were going to die. I remember. It was really annoying. And God, did you have enough BLOOD, McTavish?'

Adam faltered, and then turned away from CeeCee, before she could ruin another of his stories. He sat down with Jack and they began swapping tales of their greatest injuries.

'See this one?' Adam asked as he pointed to a nearly faded gash on his forearm. 'This one I got surfing. The waves were killer because there was about to be a storm. The waves tossed me around like I was Shake & Bake or something. Gashed my arm on my surfboard.'

'Sweeeeet,' Jack marveled.

After they got more and more gory, (obviously hyperbole on both boys' part,) Cee and I tuned out in humour.

'So,' I said sideways to her, as I began cubing tomato, 'You're getting married, CeeCee Webb. Tell our readers how you feel about that.'

She looked at me, and I saw this . . . this purity shining out of her eyes.

'I know,' she said giddily, 'It's weird.'

I snorted. 'It's weird all right. Because, like, NO one pegged you for getting hitched with Adam. Wow. That one was out of the blue.'

'Shut up,' she laughed, catching my sarcasm. 'No, I mean . . . just . . . I guess I didn't think he'd ever ask me.'

'You're only twenty three,' I said reasonably.

She shrugged. 'Still . . . I mean, I'd THOUGHT about it. I'd even thought about asking him, and stuff. Feminist that I am, and all – '

'Except you shave your legs.'

' – But you know, he might have laughed, made a joke, and would have pretended not to hear me if he didn't want it,' she murmured. 'But he asked me . . . and . . . ' she trailed off, smiling serenely into her prawn sauce. It looked really delicious. The smell was potent it garlic, and . . . yeah.

'So,' I gossiped, dicing feta cheese and plonking it in my marvelous salad, 'You talked about anything yet? Wedding-anythings, I mean?'

She shook her head. 'He only proposed yesterday, Suze.'

'What about last night? Didn't you talk about it?'

She blushed. 'We . . . didn't talk much at all.'

I smirked at her. 'Yeah. I guess screaming in ecstasy can't really qualify as conversation, right? You little skank, you,' I teased.

CeeCee grinned. 'Shut up. Our amazing sex-life is none of your – shit!' she swore as she burnt her finger when a bit of sauce splashed up. She jammed it in her mouth and sucked at it, taking away the sting.

I dumped in some seedless olives – in my salad, not her sauce – and slices of cucumber. Jack was detailing Adam about some of his ghost adventures, like Maria and Diego, and when he accidentally exorcised Jesse. Ha. I noticed that he wasn't exactly saying they'd fooled him. He was all, 'And then they said if I didn't do it, they'd stab me, and I was scared, and I didn't even KNOW who Jesse was then, and I did it and then Suze got all mad at me, and I just guess I forgot to tell her how Maria had threatened to shoot – I mean, stab me if I didn't – '

'Liar,' I tossed over my shoulder. 'Maria never threatened to get her hubby to knife you. You just thought she was hot, Jack.'

'He was seven!' Adam defended.

'He's a Slater,' I rejoined.

Adam nodded fairly. 'Good point.'

CeeCee smiled, and we continued with our cooking and our gossip.

'So,' she smiled, 'Come on, Suze. We haven't had a talk like this in forever. Tell me, has there been anyone special lately, and if so, how good were they in the sack? I am very curious, seeing as I am only judging off Adam, who is, as far as I know, spectacular. If I ever did it with anyone else, though, this opinion might be changed. So, Simon, details.'

'You realize how gross it is to ask someone about their ex's bedroom abilities, don't you?' I checked.

'Yes, I realize that,' she said. 'Now spill.'

Okay. Um . . . tell me again HOW you're supposed to tell your best friend that you're a . . . oh, I dunno, TWENTY THREE YEAR OLD VIRGIN?

You just DON'T.

So, I, um . . . invented.

'Well,' I said. 'There was Luke.' Ha. I have actually DATED a guy called Luke. He was the one that made a bet with his friends that he could nail me.

Which, I may fail to mention, he never got around to.

'Aaaaaaaaaaand?' CeeCee prompted with a grin.

I shrugged, thinking fast. 'Well, we didn't last very long because he was a shocker in all things sexy. Honestly, he had the limpest Little Luke ever. No woman can get pleasure with something that tiny,' I sniffed.

(A/N: LOLLY - I've snagged that from someone's fic, sorry! Credit to them!)

CeeCee giggled shrilly, reminding me forcibly of Kelly Prescott. Wow. Does a kinky talk cause EVERY girl to act like an airhead?

Jeez.

'Anyway,' I went on. 'Well . . . due to his less than stellar performance, I broke it off with him,' I said. DREAM ON, SUSIE. HAHAHAHAHAHA. God, this was weird. But kinda funny, if you actually know the truth.

I smiled. 'And then there was Oliver,' I said, recounting another one of my asshole ex's. 'This one had been Australian, and of the hot variety.' I mean, everything from Australia is hot, right? Heath Ledger, Hugh Jackman . . . Mel Gibson . . .

(A/N: . . . Lolly . . . )

'He was a big boy,' I grinned, cracking up internally. Oh my God. Yeah, Suze, like you would KNOW. Oh well, I've seen enough TV to know how these kinda girls talk. Nothing against anyone who has ever had sex . . . but yeah, you can so tell when someone's boasting about their conquests. 'But unfortunately, he was not the only one who thought so. Apparently,' THINK FAST – 'his wife erm . . . Jennifer, quite liked his size also.'

CeeCee looked scandalized. 'He was married?'

Wow. If only this were all true. I'd have some great stories to tell down at the pub, should I ever get drunk and feel the need to go to one. But yeah, her shock was very entertaining.

I gave my best hard-done-by sigh, as I added dressing to my perfect salad. 'Yeah,' I said in pseudo-sadness, 'So he and his wife went to counseling and I was left single.'

I am WAY too good at lying about this kinda thing.

Wow. Go me.

MUAHAHAHAHA. I AM A FICTIONAL SLUT!

'And then,' I went on, 'There was Jason. However, though, his surname was Payne. So, um, OBVIOUSLY, I didn't want to even bother with him. I mean, can you IMAGINE how much it would suck to have that last name? Go through school with it? Have people making "Major Payne" cracks, and "Jason is a Payne in the ass," and stuff? It would be the pits. And his dad would have probably called him and his siblings growing Paynes.'

CeeCee laughed.

(A/N: Lolly - HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!)

'You weren't going to MARRY him or anything though,' she said, 'I mean . . . how was he, though?'

I made this guttural noise at the back of my throat. 'Wow,' I said dreamily.

Then I turned away, and tried to control my hysterical laughter. I was shaking with it, it was so bad.

THIS WAS SO DAMNED FUNNY.

LIKE WHEN YOU WATCH SLEEPY HOLLOW AND PEOPLE KEEP GETTING DECAPITATED. HILARIOUS!

Ha. I could be an ACTRESS! Well, at this kinda thing. Why was it so easy to lie to CEECEE, and yet so impossible to like to Jesse de Silva?

Or Paul Slater?

Because seriously. Paul could call my bluff anytime he wanted. I would SO not like to play bullshit with HIM.

He'd be a potty-mouth due to the many times when he'd know when I was lying.

But whatever.

'Whoa,' CeeCee said jokily. 'Maybe I should give this whole monogamy thing some serious thought. It sounds like I've been missing out on a lot.'

Yeah. Don't worry, Cee. So have I.

It's actually kind of . . . I dunno, admirable of me that I've been able to keep my virtue this long. I mean, I don't want to lose myself on some loser like Cole, do I? I want it to be with someone I love, and someone who loves me back. I don't want to be pressured. I want it to be a careful decision, and I want him to understand me and any of my qualms or whatever.

Yeah. Looks like Cee snagged the only guy who could EVER do that.

Hmph.

I maintain that Adam is the perfect boyfriend. Not that I'd ever take him away from CeeCee or anything. I'm just saying in general. He's good looking, hilarious, and, according to Cee, excellent in the sack. Just perfect.

But whatever.

CeeCee took the sauce off the stove quickly, and put the lid on it. 'Done,' she said proudly. She gave the rice a quick stir, made sure it was all cooked, and then took that off too. Finally, she checked the prawns, which still had a minute to go. 'Salad all good, Simon?' she asked.

'It's my masterpiece,' I announced pompously. 'You shall all bow before the Greek salad.'

Adam, who'd finally finished entertaining Jack, in a non-Michael-Jackson way, (and also because he realized that the food was almost done, haha), wandered over. He told Jack to call Dani and Paul down for dinner. Then, he – Adam not Jack – and slid his hands around CeeCee's waist, and breathed into her ear teasingly.

Ha. If PAUL ever did that to Dani, she'd be all, 'Gee, thanks for the refill!'

(A/N: SORRY, DELILAH. IT WAS WONDERFUL.)

CeeCee shivered and smiled, as Adam kissed her neck. 'Ad – Adam, stop – haha . . . the prawns – they're ready – '

He only laughed in a theatrical manner. 'Let them buuuuuuuuurn,' he joked.

. . . Yay. Because burning, is like, so fun. I should know,

The Misfortunates would not agree, however.

CeeCee got the prawns off of the stove, and drained them quickly.

'Isn't she going to make the most perfect housewife?' Adam teased. 'Can you just see her in that tartan dress that I'm going to make her wear, with her hair curled and her cheeks always rosy, as I call, "HONEY, I'M HOME!" every day? Wearing Pearls while you vacuum . . . you'll be like Abigail Head,' he said.

CeeCee snorted in disgust. 'She needs to get out more,' she said.

'Yeah,' I muttered. 'But she can't. She's got the D. H. for a husband.'

'Promise you'll let me go out,' CeeCee said to Adam severely.

Adam grinned. 'Of course,' he replied chirpily, 'As long as your friends do not possess a penis, or any homosexual interest in you, and you keep your clothing appropriate, and you tell me that I'm the only man who you'll ever love, you will get Danielle Moore's boobs, and that you will spank me on command.'

I sniggered. 'Okay, she's not marrying you anymore.'

'Kidding,' Adam said warmly.

You know something?

Danielle Moore has a very special gift.

She can bring laughter and happiness into a room . . .

. . . by simply leaving it.

I mean, that's talent. As soon as she walked into the kitchen with Paul, (having been showered,) she looked a little more sober, as she glared around everywhere. There was something very pale about her face. It was quite stark against her hair, even beneath the fake tan. She looked sick. Very sick, actually.

Yeah. That happens to people who, oh, I dunno, DRINK ALL DAY.

'What's for dinner?' Paul asked loudly. Dani gave him an angry look, one which he returned stubbornly.

'Garlic prawns,' I offered. 'And salad. I made the salad. It's good salad.'

Eat the salad.

YOU WANT THE SALAD, GOD DAMNIT.

'Dani loves garlic prawns,' Paul said, again too loudly for some reason. I saw how hard he was holding her hand. Like she was trying to run away, or something.

Ha. Don't blame her for wanting to.

'Actually,' Dani forced a laugh, 'I had a huge lunch. I'm not hungry.'

'Actually,' Paul said angrily, 'That lunch wasn't really as big as you'd think, Dani. And plus, you love garlic prawns,' he repeated, returning the same WAY-TOO-CASUAL tone. He then led her to the table, where he pulled out her chair for her to sit down. Only, instead of doing it lovingly like most couples, the action had an undertone of anger and tension.

I guess there'd been a rather large discussion that I missed earlier between Paul and Dani. And with the way Dani was glaring at Paul as he unwrapped her silverware and placed the napkin in her lap, it didn't seem like it was all too pleasant.

. . . Um . . . why the hell were her hands shaking?

Adam helped CeeCee bring all of the goodies to the table. The smell was savory and it looked positively delicious. I hadn't eaten this good since, well, I lived in Carmel with Mom and the Ackerman clan. Jack, who usually detested anything in the vegetable family (unless, of course, they were fries), looked like his mouth was watering.

Dani didn't look too jazzed about the food. In fact, she looked past the food and stared off somewhere in the distance. Rude. She wasn't even looking longingly at the SALAD.

God. She can't recognize a good salad when she sees one. Typical.

'Allow me,' Paul said as he took Dani's plate. Dani continued to look far off as Paul spooned generous portions of rice, until there was a heap on her plate. He dressed it with a sizzling serving of creamed prawns. He then stuck the plate in front of her and then chirped fakely, 'There you go, honey.'

'Paul –' Dani started to object, but Paul cut her off with a stern, 'Dani.'

Whoa . . . and I thought my ex-boyfriend was a whippun.

Dani picked up her fork, but didn't tear in straight away. Instead, she pushed her food around her plate as she stared at it. She looked about as helpless against her food as she looked against Paul. And now she felt torn between the two evils.

Well, whichever one she was going to choose didn't matter to me. I was starving.

The prawns were delicious. Not too garlicky . . . just full of flavor. And the salad was excellent, if I do say so myself. Because it was made by the one . . . the only . . . SUSANNAH SIMON, MUAHAHAH.

(Recently was almost killed today. Give her some credit.)

The only thing lacking in this dinner was the attitude. You could cut the tension like a tender steak.

Adam took it upon himself to lighten the mood which Dani and Paul had brought down heavily. 'Good food, good meat, good God, let's eat.'

I grinned. 'Very nice.'

'Simpsons educates all,' he replied happily.

'Oooh, I got a grace,' Jack said enthusiastically. 'We learned it on a school camp. Mr Walden.'

'Uh huh,' I said.

He took a deep breath, and started belting it out, to Star Wars theme music.

'THANK YOU GOOOOOOOOD, FOR GIVING-US-FOOOOOOOOOD. THANK YOU GOOOOOOOOOD, FOR GIVING-US-FRIENDS. FOR THE FOOD WE MEET AND THE FRIENDS WE EAT, THANK YOU – I mean, for the FOOD WE MEET – no, EAT and the – um . . . no, that's not right, it goes like FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD WE MmMmm . . . EAT. And the FRIENDS we MEET, THA – '

'Cool it, Jack,' I said. 'Great grace. Now eat. Try the salad, it's really good.'

'And she's so modest,' CeeCee said sarcastically.

Again, there was another awkward silence.

Which Adam, again, broke.

'SO. This guy walks into a bar. Know what he says?'

'What?' Jack asked after he managed to swallow a fork full of rice.

'Ouch.'

Jack crinkled his nose. 'That was crap.'

'You laughed,' Adam pointed out.

'Yeah, because it was so dumb.'

Like Dani. We laugh, coz we caaaaaan.

. . . CAN, CAN, CAN YOU DO THE CANCAN? CAN YOU DO THE CANCAN –

Um . . . sorry . . .

'Well, let's see you come up with a better one,' Adam challenged.

'It's a blonde joke,' Jack said, giggling to himself, 'but CeeCee's smart, so I doesn't apply to her. This blonde wanted a pair of alligator shoes really badly, but she couldn't afford them. She tried to get the store clerk to bargain with her, but he didn't want to lower the price. The blonde got so mad she yelled, "FINE! I'll just go catch my own alligator so I can get shoes at a reasonable price. The clerk said, "Go ahead. Maybe you'll catch a big one." Well, the blonde went to the swamp that same day, determined to catch an alligator – '

Haha. Alligator? Rhymes with – Slater?

I'm so funny.

'Later as the clerk was driving home from a hard day selling shoes, he saw the blonde waist-deep in water, armed with a shotgun. Swimming towards her was this gigantic alligator that was, like, 9 feet long.' Jack stopped, trying to remember. 'Hang on . . . oh yeah. She aimed the gun and then BANG! She shot it down. The clerk watched in shock as she dragged the alligator to the shore, where there were bodies of other alligators laying there too. The blonde looked down at the body and shrieked in frustration, "Damn it! This one isn't wearing shoes either!" '

. . . Snort.

'I get it,' I smiled. 'Very nice, Jack.'

'Hey, that's a good one,' Adam said with a chuckle. Jack beamed at him, satisfied with the laughs his joke was meriting.

Jesse then materialized with a swirl of sapphire blue, and rested his eyes on me blankly. Then he looked away.

'Jesse,' Paul said in a too-nice voice. 'Glad you could join us. Have a seat. Try the prawns. They're great.'

Jesse's gaze went stony.

Jack frowned. 'He can't eat, Paul. He's dead – '

'Your brother knows that,' I growled. He's just being an ASS as usual.

Paul blinked in see-through naivety.

I raised my eyebrows. 'Paul, try the knuckle sandwich,' I said in bland threat.

Paul gave me a fake yeah-yeah-very-funny-not smile.

I sniffed and looked at Jack. 'Go on, mini-Slater, have some salad. Just steer clear of all lettuce leaves labeled "Paul," and you're good.'

'Killing me won't be very beneficial,' Paul said dryly. 'Who else will save your ass from fires that are your fault, Simon?'

'You saved her?' Dani said in disbelief. Then she looked around, and corrected herself, and was all, 'Oh, I – why, um, did she need this saving?'

'Nothing – '

'She tried to exorcise the ghosts,' Paul blurted. 'Despite expressive requests from Father Dominic. You'd think she'd have more respect for him when he may very well be on his death bed or something, but nooooo.'

'Susannah?' Jesse asked in surprise, 'You didn't, did you?'

I mumbled something under my breath.

'What was that?' Jack asked.

'. . . Nothing,' I said defeatedly.

'Huh?'

'Don't worry,' Paul said in a slightly bitter tone to Jack, 'Take it from your older brother. Most things a girl says and does . . . they're nothing.'

Like kissing Paul Slater so long ago?

Yeah . . . nothing.

I knew that was exactly what he meant. He didn't even have to elaborate.

Getting iffy again, I grabbed the tongs and dumped a bunch of my perfect Greek salad on Jack's plate.

He wrinkled his nose. 'It's got olives.'

'Don't eat the olives then,' I said obviously.

'Do I have to eat it Paul?' he asked.

GOD, HE WAS DOING THIS AGAIN. I'M GOING TO KILL THE LITTLE SLATER. KIIIIIIIIILL!

Paul blinked coldly. 'No.'

'I don't think I'll eat either – ' began Dani, but Paul twisted his head in a mighty glare, and she shut up.

'Oh right,' I replied in a frosty voice to Paul. 'Just because I want your brother to grow up healthy, I completely forgot the lack of regard for him that you present. Like . . . leaving him to die in the Shadowland – '

'Shut up,' Paul shot at me, pausing with his knife and fork bitterly.

Again, there was a dead silence, of clanging cutlery, chewing, swallowing, gentle coughing, sipping of water, and breathing.

Dani was still moving her huge serving of prawns around her plate. And her fork was chattering a little against the plate occasionally. Her hand was still shaking.

'Aren't you going to eat?' I asked her in my politest voice. Because, well, sorry, Dani is a bitch, but when one chick sees another chick who's doing something wrong, chick has to say something. 'I mean, Paul went to all that trouble to prepare you a plate. Does he have to chew it for you, too? Or are you actually going to eat this time?'

She shot a look at me. There was a single flash of vulnerability in her face. And then, the twelve inch thick Collagen set in, and she gave me a dark look. 'Why of course not,' she said. 'Wouldn't want to turn out like you, Sue.'

Wouldn't want to – HEY!

I dropped my fork, and demanded, 'What?'

Paul shot her a nasty look. He looked a little tired of it all.

Dani smirked smugly, resting her cutlery that had not yet entered her mouth. She looked pleased to have a distraction from pretending to eat. 'Oh, you heard me dear. I mean, I honestly think you should start doing Pilates or something. And all that food you eat? Do you know how much flab that causes? You're not exactly a dream-date, Sue.'

I sat there in absolute shock for a moment.

She did NOT just call me fat. OR FLABBY.

Adam then went, 'HAHAHAHAHAHA. WEIRD AL IS A COMIC GENIUS.'

Which did nothing but merit a few strange glares.

'I prefer the natural look,' I said.

'Yes. Your lack of chest could not suggest otherwise,' she smirked. 'At least I have got something.'

Um . . . okay, this was . . .um . . . weird . . .

I don't normally discuss the size of my, um, chest with supermodels. Especially ones rude enough say they weren't big enough. I mean, we all know how she got HERS.

'Yeah. After eighteen operations,' I snapped.

'Two,' said Paul boredly.

Adam and CeeCee didn't look very surprised, but Jack looked completely scandalized. In fact, he wouldn't stop looking at the two mountains on Dani's chest.

'Eww,' Jack realized. Adam smacked Jack upside the head.

'How do you breathe at night?' I sneered at her.

'At least I'm not some unemployed, destitute bint who couldn't hope to ever get someone to love them,' Dani laughed. 'I mean, if this Cole Kennedy fellow is the best you can do – '

I stopped dead. And I mean, dead.

How did she – ?

'. . . What?'

She looked at me triumphantly. Like she knew she had hit a nerve.

I think she hit more than just a nerve.

All of a sudden, I was panicking, and my dinner didn't taste so nice –

'Dani, don't – ' Paul said quickly, but it was too late. Dani had found my weakness and she wasn't giving it up.

'Oh yes, Paul told me everything,' she simpered. 'Really, Sue. It must be horrible to be beaten by a man. I suppose you're the type who would get that a lot? They seem to be the men I'd peg you to attract – '

'Beaten?' CeeCee laughed, 'Ha, Suze wouldn't – '

She grinned as she turned to look at me. One glance at my face made her pale.

I didn't have to tell her myself. She just had to look at my guilty face and see it all for herself. CeeCee shook her head slightly in disbelief. It was just so hard for her to wrap her logical brain around.

I guess the Suze that was bragging about her non-existent sexual conquests disappeared from her mind, replaced by a weakling. A wimpy liar that let a guy beat her regularly because she was afraid to get out of it. And now that I was finally away from Cole, he still somehow managed to affect me. It was like he was here strangling me, not far far away in Boston.

Or, you know, not in Boston. I still didn't know whether or not to believe he was searching after me.

I shot a glare at Paul. He TOLD her? I can't believe he did that? I mean, if it were up to me, PAUL wouldn't even know. If it hadn't been for his stupid curiosity, he would have never picked up my phone and saw any of those text messages that Cole was sending me.

It was his fault. It was all his fault.

But, then again, here was Dani blaming it all on me. It was MY fault for falling for an abusive loser. MY fault he liked to beat me. MY fault for not leaving him sooner.

Paul's eyes were wide, looking at me. He wasn't looking apologetic. He was looking a little afraid, actually. It was like he was pleading with Dani . . .

Please stop –

'And now he's apparently stalking you?' Dani smiled in a sick glee. She really was one twisted sister. My pain was, of course, every bit of her pleasure. She was SICK. 'My my, he has got spare time, hadn't he? Does it hurt, Sue? To know that the only man that you could ever hope to get close to wants to punch you? Poor thing,' she said in poisonously false sympathy. 'Maybe you should leave the country . . . for your own safety, obviously. Because I'd hate to see what would happen should this fellow find you. You must be terrified of him, aren't you dear?'

I didn't know why, but . . . but I couldn't move.

Dani's smirk said everything.

"Got ya."

It was so true. Dani had me nailed. And there was absolutely nothing I could do about it after the words escaped her mouth.

Adam and CeeCee and Jack were staring at me, in awe.

'. . . No way,' Adam said slowly. 'Suze, she's – kidding, right?'

Oh my God . . .

They all knew now. They all knew just how pathetic I was. What was I going to do now?

Dani, with a glorious expression, picked up her fork and took a leisurely mouthful of rice, her eyes on me.

It's funny how revealing my deepest, most embarrassing secret can cause me to lose my appetite, while it causes Dani to gain one.

I made the grave mistake of looking up at Jesse.

. . . He looked like he'd been punched in the stomach, then turned around, and stabbed in the back.

Oh God.

Why couldn't I move?

WHY THE HELL COULDN'T I MOVE? I'm STUUUUUCK.

I was frozen like a block of ice. I tried thinking of something intelligent to say to him that might better explain my situation, but no words would come out. At least, no words that were the RIGHT words.

'Querida – ' Jesse started, but it was THAT that made my chair scrape loudly as I got up from the table gracelessly, and backed from the table.

'Uh – ' I said, pretending that Dani had said NONE of that, 'I think I'm going to have a shower – '

'Suze – ' Paul went to stand up, but Dani's hand was jammed on his elbow ruthlessly. It was the same amount of force Paul had on Dani earlier. The tables were turned now.

I just stared at all of them, sitting and staring at me like I was this FREAK . . . this helpless loser who couldn't defend herself from some GUY.

Then I fumbled with the handle, got out of the dining room, on the other side of the door, where suddenly, it was hard to breathe . . .

I slumped against the wall and put my hand to my chest. My breath became so shallow that it hardly felt like I was breathing at all. In fact, my head was getting a little dizzy from the lack of air . . . and something else. Fear.

Great. This was just wonderful. Now everyone's view of me had to change. For Adam and Cee, I was no longer Suze-Kick-Ass-Simon. And you can say goodbye to being Jack's role model. Now I was just a wimp.

I was nothing now. I was just like Dani said. Nothing but an unemployed, destitute bint.

And I didn't even know what a "bint" was.

I couldn't even make a comeback because what she said was absolutely, positively true.

Jesse slowly shimmered in front of me, the expression on his face unreadable through all of the confusion. He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again, and instead chose to stare.

Which, I must point out, was NOT HELPING.

Finally, Jesse got the nerve to say, 'Susannah . . . you never told me.'

'With good reason,' I said, my voice shakier than I really wanted it to be.

Jesse just shook his head and did the familiar run-the-hand-through-hair move, which was his trademark. 'But you told him?' he asked me blankly.

'No,' I replied. Which is the truth, really. Paul pretty much found out on his own after he stole my cell phone, the bastard.

'How else did he know it, then, Susannah?' Jesse demanded. His hands were clenched at his sides in fists. Not that he was going to hit me or anything, but I'm pretty sure he wanted to. I mean, you should have seen the hurt in his dark brown eyes. No, wait. Jesse would never hurt anyone. So that was completely uncalled for. Jesse is nothing like Cole.

'It's not what you think, Jesse. You see –'

'I do not think I do. You should have told me right away.'

'I couldn't,' I insisted. 'I just couldn't.'

Adam tapped on the door softly and called out, 'Suze?'

'I'm okay,' I called back to him automatically.

'Are you sure?' CeeCee asked, her voice dripping with motherly concern.

'I said I'm FINE,' I yelled.

I hated yelling at my friends, but it was as if my mouth was travelling faster than my brain. But there was this part of me that insisted that if Adam and CeeCee were really my friends, that they'd trust that everything was okay when I said it was, even if I was lying. When they kept questioning me like that . . . it made me feel like a liar. Which I was. Just another thing to add to the long list.

CeeCee came in the room, Adam following her with a solemn expression. They both looked really confused and just a little freaked by something.

'What was that all about?' CeeCee asked. 'What Dani was saying in there, I mean.'

By then, my responses no longer belonged to me. They belonged to someone else . . . I don't know who, but I swear it wasn't me. I felt so detached from everything. From everyone.

'I don't want to talk about it.'

'Suze, we're just trying to help,' Adam offered up bravely.

'I don't need any help.'

Jesse looked at me sharply and said, 'Susannah, I think you do – '

'Shut UP!' I screamed at him. 'Just shut up, already.'

Adam and CeeCee looked confused as usual, as I verbally attacked Jesse with a bunch of unprintable words. It was like the same fire the Misforts tried to burn me with earlier was coming out of my eyes and crisping him.

'And you two,' I said, turning my fiery eyes towards Cee and Adam, 'should just butt out, okay?'

'But – '

'GO AWAY!'

I expected them to fight on, but this time they backed out of the door. CeeCee looked really, really hurt. Like she wanted to cry or something. Seeing her like that made me want to cry, but the monster that was taking over me wouldn't allow it.

Adam gave me a look that almost equaled CeeCee's. He held her shoulders gently, and steered her away, obviously seeing that I was not about to be reasonable.

I watched them go back into the kitchen.

Jesse looked at me and shook his head again in disappointment with a touch of hurt. He said, in a voice that made my conscience squirm, 'Why must you shut out the ones who care about you the most?'

'Look, just STAY out of it,' I warned him, turning away. 'I don't care. It's NOT your problem, okay? Just – leave it.'

'Susannah – '

'DON'T "SUSANNAH" ME!' I rounded back, and shoved him in the chest. 'Okay? DON'T. I don't need YOU, or PAUL, or a LAWYER, or ANYONE'S help, okay!'

'This man hits you, Susannah – '

'Hit. Past tense,' I snapped, flicking my hair out of my eyes. 'As in, not anymore. I mean, like, he's not going to find me, so I'm fine. Now just stop – '

'He could kill you,' Jesse said in a fiery manner. 'He sounds to me like a sick man. Sick in the head,' he said, pointing to his temple. 'He has already hurt you. And he could kill you. Find you and kill you, Susannah.'

Remind me what's the problem with that again?

I laughed uncomfortably. 'He won't.'

'He might,' Jesse shot back. 'Susannah, you can't do this on your own.'

I narrowed my eyes. 'What?'

Jesse repeated stubbornly, 'You cannot do this alone.'

'I can. I've been alone for long enough, I think I can handle some wasted asshole who thinks it's funny to take a swing,' I said bitterly. 'This is EXACTLY why I didn't tell you.'

Jesse took a step forward. One of his shoulders was hiked, and his stance was one of outright indignation. 'What do you mean by that, Susannah?'

I laughed again, and kind of thumped uselessly on the wall behind me. 'Because you'd react like this.'

'Like what?'

'THIS!' I motioned furiously at him. 'Like – like you!'

'I am ACTING this way because I care about you,' he retorted. 'Things are not at peace with you. That is not right. You should not have this man trying to – he should not be allowed to – in my day, he would have gotten punished for his improper actions,' Jesse yelled, stamping his foot.

I stared at his boot.

God, that's an old boot.

'Yeah,' I sneered. 'We're not in your day. And guys like him DO get punished. Just – not by you. Or Paul. By – by me.'

. . . Just let me go get changed into my Wonder Woman getup.

Jesse crossed his arms, and gave me this smart-ass look that TOTALLY said yeah-Susannah-you're-SO-in-the-perfect-condition-to-kick-butt, to which I responded with a SHUT-UP-YOU-NERD glare.

He didn't speak for a moment. His face became softer, though. Then he sighed. 'Susannah . . . how could you have told Slater and not me?'

'He wasn't supposed to know,' I sniffed in contempt. Then I just stopped . . . and sighed. 'Look Jesse, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm not the girl you used to know. I really am sorry. But this is life. MY life. This is what I get. These are my cards that I got dealt. And I'm still saying "bullshit." Really, I am. God, the almighty dealer of all cards, hates me. Yeah, He is a dick. Okay, cool. I'm over it. But I am going to be fine,' I forced a smile. 'Fine.'

My smile was wavering, fast.

And my hands were shaking.

Jesse just stared in sorrow. 'Oh, querida,' he said sadly. 'No, no. You are not going to be fine. Certainly not when it's not just this – this sinvergüenza is not the only one hurting you.'

'What the hell?'

His eyes were dark. Like, really dark. Like he was pitying me. 'You're hurting yourself. Blaming yourself for what someone else has done to you.'

Duh. I could have told me that.

And what was the problem with that? I was right to do so. I mean, I was the one that had gotten myself in this mess. If I hadn't kissed Cole Kennedy back when he kissed me, then he – I dunno, maybe I led him on. I don't remember. But – it was my fault. Sure, he didn't have to HIT me or DRINK a bottle of VODKA or something . . . but those factors were ones that were beyond my control. The ones that I COULD control happened because of my sheer stupidity.

Like Paul said. I was stupid.

And God, maybe if I hadn't kissed PAUL back so long ago, I wouldn't have gotten into the freakin' HABIT. I didn't have to kiss HIM either. But I did. That screwed up me and Jesse. And out at the Point, you know, Big Sur that night, I WENT AND DID IT AGAIN!

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?

I'll tell you what's wrong.

Me.

Everything is wrong with me. I make stupid decisions. I am an idiot. I have done bad things. My – my dad . . .

You want to know? Know what I did?

No. I won't say that . . . just know that my DAD moved on.

And my parting words were, and I frigging QUOTE;

I hate you. I don't need you anymore, I never did. You're an unreliable ASSHOLE and I couldn't care less whether you ever show up again or not. You don't come when I need you, and – Andy's more of a dad than you. I hate you.

Gotta hate PMS, right?

. . . He moved on. Right in front of me. He moved on, because "I didn't need him." That was what was holding him back. He wanted to look after me.

Yeah, well, GREAT job he always did of that, right?

But you know what?

He did look after me.

I had only thought about the times that he hadn't.

And so he moved on, there and then.

The last thing I'd said to him was "I hate you."

. . . This is who I am.

A hurter.

Paul was the ruiner and I was the hurter.

I didn't mean to . . . I didn't.

But it happened. I hurt people. Dad . . . Paul, Jesse . . . just . . . you know.

Yeah. That's life.

These are my cards.

May I say that POKER IS A SHITTY GAME?

WELL. IT IS.

It didn't matter, though. I mean, just because it was an existing fact, I didn't need to dwell on it.

And neither did Jesse.

'Right,' I said, with another uncomfortable laugh. I didn't know WHY I was laughing. I mean, there was nothing funny. Maybe it was hoe blind Jesse was being. I mean, yeah, it must be kind of a shock to find out that there are some people in this world who actually do get what they deserve. I guess it's a relief, too. You know, the whole what-goes-around-comes-around thing and all.

Must make a lot of families of murder victims feel good.

Not that I was a murderer.

No. My status is strictly shifter/hurter.

I should get a badge or something.

A cool one that had my name engraved on it. Not some crummy one with a sticker on it, with my name written with a stupid gay black Sharpie like at Starbucks.

Suze.

Hi, I'm no one. How may I hurt you today? Would you like fries with that? Or a need for psychiatric help, or something?

Whatever.

'No, it's not right,' Jesse said angrily. 'Susannah, you are bring – '

'Save it,' I stuck my hand vertically at him, and turned away. 'I don't care. I need a shower. I mean, hopefully the hot water can distract me from the fact that you . . . Cee . . . Adam . . . Jack . . . know now that I have been smacked across the face by a man that is physically more powerful than me. I hope Jack is now very certain that the girl that taught him how to swim is a LOSER. And yeah, maybe CeeCee will think twice about inviting me to her wedding. Deary me, what if COLE crashes it or something while looking for me? That would SUCK.'

'Susannah, don't cry – '

'I'M NOT CRYING,' I blinked furiously. 'Look, I don't care. I don't – I smell. I need a shower now. I just – Jesse, don't DO this now,' I pleaded, taking quick steps back from him.

'Please, listen to – '

I didn't. I mean, yeah, I needed a shower. I reeked. Of what, I didn't know.

Probably the smell of some freak who had been abused by a drunken artist from Boston.

It's a very unique smell, you know. Ask anyone.

I had to try and wash it off; make the hot water vanquish it down the drain. Hide the fact that they knew now.

When I hadn't ever wanted them to know.

Thanks a BUNCH, Dani. You bitch.

You freaking bitch.

As I was running up the stairs, having finally gotten out of sight of Jesse, there was a flicker of materialization beside me, and a restless looking Bart Ford appeared. 'Susie, I'm so sorry about before when I showed up and made you stop chanting, and I'm sorry I left when they – just, you don't know what they're li – well, okay, you do now, and I – they would have – that's not an excuse for going though, I know, just – why are you crying?'

'Bart,' I said in a low voice that didn't sound strictly human, 'Not now.'

His blond hair looked a shade duller. 'Don't leave the cowboy, Susie. They're still mad at you. Really mad. You tried to get rid of them, and Robin wants to kill you. He really does. You shouldn't be alone – '

'I could have SWORN I just said "not now",' I said fiercely at him. His features went deadpan, and he looked away quickly. 'But he'll kill you.'

'Yeah, well tell him to get in line,' I snapped. 'God.'

Well, he didn't exactly LEAVE. No. He followed me up to my FRIGGING room to get my FRIGGING clothes, and then to the door of my FRIGGING bathroom, where –

. . . Oh my God.

I swallowed hard.

Danielle Moore had her head in a toilet, puking like mad.

In the doorway, I froze. She was almost lying on the floor, with her hands draped across the toilet seat. She was coughing and spluttering into the bowl, and randomly swearing.

Then, she turned her head, and for a moment, I saw a look on her face that made her look dead. Her eyes looked sunken and hollow, and she looked really sick.

No. REALLY.

Then, she went ballistic. 'GET OUT! GET OUT!'

I didn't move. 'What are you DOING?' I asked in shock. I mean . . . I've never actually witnessed Bulimia before. This was . . . scary. There was stuff around her mouth. She couldn't hold her glare; she turned back to the toilet and threw up again.

It was gross.

'I'm getting Paul,' I said uncertainly.

'Don't you DARE! You hear me? Don't you d - '

'You told everyone about ME,' I retorted, 'So he's going to know about YOU.'

She coughed, and wiped her hair from her face. She shakily stood up, looking at me with murder-filled eyes. But she didn't say anything.

Well, besides her next outburst of, 'GET OUT!'

'I'm not the one who just had my head down a toilet,' I replied, backing out again to get Paul -

Dani grabbed my wrist, her long, fake, red nails digging into my flesh. I turned back to her, only to see her giving me a deadly look. Her hair was limp and dull and lifeless, and her skin had gone a ashen colour, and her face was glossy with sweat. Her breath STANK.

Of, you know, the remains of her barely digested dinner.

'You'll NOT tell Paul!' she shrilled at me, weakly trying to threaten me. It was a pretty crappy stunt, considering how enervated she was then. I threw her hand off of mine, and she stumbled. 'Dani, shut up.'

After an intense look at her and her half-pleading, half-enraged eyes, I closed my own, and called Paul with my astral voice.

When I opened my eyes, Dani was regarding me warily, waiting for me to attempt to leave again so she could strike out and, oh, I dunno, slay me with her stupid fingernails or something.

Needless to say, Paul materialized just behind me within moments. 'Is it them again?' he demanded, looking around and only seeing Bart standing there, looking shocked. 'What did - '

His eyes landed on Dani, who was pathetically sprawled on the cold tiles of the bathroom, appearing very . . . I dunno, stoned. I doubt she'd, you know, taken anything. I mean, she MIGHT have. I didn't know. But she looked really, really sick.

'I didn't know what to - ' I began, glancing up, but I stopped when I saw Paul's face as he was looking down at her like that.

And Dani's was one of guilt, fury, resentment, hate, shock, and . . . something else which I didn't know.

Like she WAS calling out for help, but she'd never admit it.

'Suze,' Paul growled in a very low voice, 'Go.'

'What - '

'WHY DID YOU DO THAT?' Dani screeched at me, scurrying up from her knees and attempting to LEAP at me - no, seriously - but Paul grabbed her.

I saw the flashes of the purest vulnerability present in her glower. Blinking fast, I picked up my clothes, towel and shower stuff - which I'd accidentally deposited on the floor - and hightailed it.

Sorry, as much as I love a good eavesdrop . . . that was one fight I did not want to hear.

Because I knew, concrete now, that Danielle Moore was a very sick person. As in . . . she needed to get help.

I can't even IMAGINE not eating, or throwing up after I do eat. Unless I have a virus or something. Just – yeah. It's gross.

I went and had my stupid shower elsewhere. Bart was being a stalker and he followed me to the door of the bathroom, saying he'd stay there, and - I quote, "protect me."

Forgetting of course that it was HIM that almost got me killed earlier.

If he keeps on protecting me I'll end up dead.

After a shower, I felt even worse. I didn't know why. Just - the whole reality of Dani, I guess.

I went back up to my room for a little while, deciding that lying on my bed was a good option. Bart, AGAIN, came with me. His constant following of me was starting to get annoying. I mean - yeah, there is such a thing as OTT.

And plus. Even if his punk friends DID try to have a go at me, what the hell could Bartholomew Ford do? I mean, I liked the guy. Really, I did. But that did not hide the fact that he was, indeed, a wimp. I mean, okay, so fair enough, Robbie, Nathan and Charles were scaaaary.

But still. What has BART got to lose?

Whatever.

Bart was talking to me occasionally, but I guess I wasn't really hearing him. I kept nodding and murmuring in agreement, and I think I screwed up when he was telling me how guys used to call him a square when he was alive, and if I thought he was a square, and I was all with the nodding and murmuring.

He realized pretty quickly that I wasn't listening after that.

All I could think about at the moment was CeeCee and Adam and Jack. And how they now knew about Cole. And how screwed up my life was.

By the time it was eleven o'clock, I was in a bit of a state. See? You CAN'T leave me alone to think. It doesn't do ANYONE any good.

I was kind of freaked out to talk to Adam and CeeCee again. I mean . . . they knew, now. And I saw the looks on their faces when Dani blurted out about Cole.

Those looks were the ones that I'd been so scared of seeing.

And Paul. Ha. He had every REASON to look like he did. He fucking told his model bitch my secret. I hope the guilt killed him.

Even though, you know, it never would. Paul is lucky that he feels any compassion at ALL. I mean, I don't know how he manages. Maybe he injects hormones in or something. Because he sure as hell wasn't born with them.

You either have compassion or you don't. You can't just LEARN it.

(© Copyright Stephanie Merchant. Ugh.)

My mind was not a merciful entity. It did not go easy on me. And you know, if I was left alone with if for much longer, I'd go freaking insane.

. . . Says the future psychologist.

I stood up abruptly, and Bart looked at me. 'What?' he asked quickly, his blond hair falling in his eyes again.

'Nothing,' I said. 'I'm going downstairs.'

He nodded silently and stood up to.

'No - ' I shook my head. 'You stay.'

'Can't,' he muttered. 'Robin's still really - '

'Robin can kiss my ass,' I said. 'I don't care about him. Don't follow me, Bart, or I swear, you'll get the glaring of a lifetime.'

With a crestfallen look, he sat back down, and fidgeted. 'But can't I just - '

'No,' I said. And I left.

As I descended the stairs, in my chubby-cow PJ's, (EVER so sexy,) my eyes were kind of misty. I didn't know why. I just - it wasn't a cool time at the moment. I was apprehensive about how I was about to be treated. CeeCee and Adam are great. But . . . I was still worried. I didn't want their stupid sympathy, or, "Poor Susie . . . press charges . . . let Paul or Jesse take care of him!"s. I just wanted to do it on my own.

So I didn't even know why I was going to talk to them. I knew what they'd say.

But when I got down to the kitchen, only Paul was there, sitting on the bench, drinking Jack Daniels straight from the bottle.

. . . Um . . . yay?

At the doorway, I kind of froze. I didn't want to talk to him. I hated him. He was - wait.

'Why the hell did you tell her?' came my cold voice.

Paul looked up. Then he groaned. I saw that his stupid alcohol had barely been touched. God. If Dani doesn't go ENOUGH, she's turning her BOYFRIEND into an alcoholic.

'Don't drink it,' I said.

That's what he does.

'Why the fuck not?' Paul asked bluntly.

Erm . . . okay. Potty mouth, much?

'What's with you?' I asked.

He laughed. 'What, in your language, translates to "the whole frigging world"?'

I believe that's of the most ancient tongue, qwoicaaqmeffy.

I didn't really feel like asking. I didn't want it to be my problem. But I felt obligated to. 'What's with Dani?'

Paul, still not looking at me, just laughed. 'Wouldn't you like to know.'

'Not really, actually,' I replied with a glare. 'I just want to know why you TOLD her about Cole.'

He went to take another swig of his stupid drink, but a stab of anger made me flush, and the bottle shattered in his hands. He flinched as the shards flew everywhere, and the liquid stained his pants.

Then he glared up at me. 'What the hell did you do that for?' he demanded.

I swallowed. Good question. I hadn't actually meant to - I mean, that WAS accidental - hell, he damn well deserved it.

'What the hell did you tell Dani for?' I rejoined snappily. 'Any reason? What, was she feeling down or something, and you wanted to cheer her up? Bet that made her over the moon. Little Sue gets bashed. Fun for all the family - '

He looked pained at the mention of Dani.

'What?' I stopped.

'Suze,' he said tiredly, 'Just - just get out of here.'

I crossed my arms, and entered the kitchen. I smirked - an action of cruelty. 'She dump you or something?'

That WAS meant to be a parody of, you know, that time in the breezeway years ago when Father Dom told me Jesse didn't want me.

Little did I know the Her Royal Britishness HAD actually done something of that sort.

'Oh,' I said with a nasty grin. 'Right.'

Paul gave me a look of poison. He was breathing faster than one usually breathes. 'Go to bed, Suze.'

'What happened – ?'

'GO!' he yelled at me, standing up, his eyes fierce and furious. 'God, you – ' he spun away sharply. 'It's none of your business.'

'No, come on, Paulie . . . it's all my business. Everything about ME is apparently your business, so what?' I pried rudely.

Paul gave me one glare of ferocity, before suddenly grabbing me by the wrist, and dematerializing the both of us to what appeared to be one of the stupid dorms on third or fourth floor of Fortunaschwein. Obviously because he didn't like being overheard.

Pfft. Anti-eavesdropping Nazi . . .

The room's light globe had been smashed. Three guesses who did that. Probably all of those guesses could have been correct, even.

'Look,' he said furiously, 'You'd better fucking stay out of this Suze, or God help me – '

'What's that supposed to mean?' I laughed with no humour. 'What – you'll hit me or something?'

He looked like he freaking wanted to. 'Shut up.'

Wow. Mature, isn't he.

'NO,' I snapped. 'No, I WON'T shut up. Your life isn't as perfect as you pretend, is it.'

'Life isn't perfect, Suze,' he retorted. 'No one's is. Life is getting to the next frigging day without getting stabbed in the back. And nothing else.'

'Wow, that's optimistic.'

'Yeah,' he agreed with my sarcasm. 'Well – yeah. You're partly to contribute to this lack of optimism, Suze. God, tell me one thing,' his voice got louder. 'Five years ago, why the HELL did you go to Big Sur with me?'

I tried to think of a lie.

'ANSWER ME,' he yelled in my face, grabbing my shoulders. My eyes widened. I couldn't think of anything to say.

'Ha. You know why. You won't tell me, because you know I'm right.'

'What do you – '

'Jesse.'

I jerked away from him. 'God, Paul! You ALWAYS blame all of your shit on HIM.'

'You just don't want me to corrupt your perfect image of him, do you?' Whoa . . . he – he thought I was still in love with him. Jesse, I mean.

'No,' I snapped. 'I don't like hearing anything that comes out of your mouth. Least of all things about him. I know what he's like, I don't need YOUR crummy interpretation of him. He's better than you, Paul – '

'Yeah RIGHT,' he laughed in ire. 'HIM? One, I'm not competing with HIM. I know I'm better than him. And two, if I WAS competing, there's nothing to be won anymore. You? God, I'm over you, Suze,' he glared hatefully at me. 'You weren't worth it because you NEVER did want me. I was the one you would run to when things got bad between you and de Silva. And then when things were right, you would say I lured you into it or some bullshit like that.'

I flushed. 'That is so – ' I swallowed. 'It's too late for this – ' I turned for the door.

'NO,' he butted in, seizing my wrist and yanking me rather unceremoniously back, 'We're NOT DONE – '

'Don't you TOUCH me!' I shrilled, and with my free hand, I slapped his face, hard.

He only laughed at me. With a reckless grin, he was all, 'Getting a little hot and bothered, Suze?' He still had his iron hold in place on my wrist.

A horrible feeling rushed through me. Paul was angry. No – he really was. I've seen guys in this state before. They're capable of anything.

'Fuck you,' I swore through gritted teeth.

Again, he only laughed condescendingly. 'Truth hurts, doesn't it, Simon?'

My heart was going so fast, so loud, so – I wouldn't have been surprised if he could feel, or at least sense the wild pace of my pounding heart. He was scaring me.

'That is SO not the truth,' I shouted in his face. 'Paul – let GO of my hand already – '

'You're always running away from the truth,' he snapped. 'Well, you can't run now. You have to look it in the eyes, Suze,' he glared at me, making my breathing ability falter.

'Why do you TALK like that?' I asked, my voice hiiiiiiiigh. 'NO ONE talks like that, Paul.'

'I WANT YOU TO SEE!' he yelled. 'OPEN YOUR DAMNED EYES FOR ONCE.'

I winced at his volume. This wasn't a logical argument . . . 'They're OPEN God damn it!'

'NOT ENOUGH!'

'God, Paul, fuck off!'

'YOU SEE NOTHING, SUZE! AND WHEN YOU DO, YOU HIDE FROM IT.' His grip on my wrist restricted further. I flinched.

'What the HELL am I hiding from now?' I demanded hotly. My forehead was scorching. My skin was all hot. My heart wasn't slowing down. I felt dizzy. My knees wanted to give way.

He ignored me. 'Running, and HIDING and PRETENDING that it doesn't EXIST – '

He's cracked.

'AND IT DOES!'

'WHAT IS "IT", PAUL?' my voice crackled.

'THIS,' he roared.

. . . And he pulled me into the most desperate, full-blown kiss that affected my every inch like a volcanic eruption.

The passion and abandon was intoxicating. And shit, I responded in a way that I could not have ever predicted.

The world started spinning, and shattering, and breaking as I knew it. Logic, reason, sanity, bitterness and pride crumbled away. My mind was roaring with unidentifiable words. The pain and hate was still there . . . that was the core of my fire.

My world of grey dipped into one of black and red, and torrid passion. Paul Slater was kissing me, and – I didn't know why, but I was kissing him back. So much.

He gripped me into him angrily. Like he was blaming me. I didn't know what for.

God, I didn't know how, when, or why. All I knew was, if he didn't keep touching me and kissing me like that, life would be cut off.

A chain reaction of white-hot sensations followed from his kiss. My body felt like it had burst into flame. And my mind just stopped functioning, as the primal urges of my flesh took control. It was wrong. It was illicit. Sinful. Iniquitous. Immoral. Wicked. Insane. Fallacious. Illogical in every single way –

But God knows I loved it like I've never loved anything so wrong before. After so long . . . this was something I wanted.

Addiction was trickling over me like a dark, unseen influence that made the ice wall surrounding my heart show signs of fracture.

It took a fault in time for me to twist my lips away from his demanding ones, and go, 'What are we – !'

But he didn't care. Almost as much as I didn't.

He shoved me back on the dormitory bed, his hands never leaving my body. I moaned from the painful pleasure of it.

God . . . it'd been so long . . .

He pressed me deeper into the mattress, and I couldn't breath. I was scared. I hated him. I was FURIOUS that HE could make me FEEL like that, and make me want – no, need more . . .

But WHY? I just didn't understand how I could – or, you know, how far he'd –

Hey. Suze?

Just . . . stop thinking.

And the thinking part of my mind then completely disconnected from my body, as mind-shattering pleasure took its deadly toll.

- 8 -

Crime of Passion:

Courts of law sometimes view the illegal event more sympathetically as a crime of passion —

A physical outbreak of intense emotion.

- 8 -

Warmth is not a sensation that Susannah Simon is accustomed with. Usually, her world is one that is dark, cold, and grey. Occasionally there's a flare of light, though only to be extinguished quickly by forces that set out to destroy every glimmer of hope present in this realm of ice and shadow.

On the rare occasion that this world is laced with a gentle glow and a pleasant heat, a wonderful feeling washes over said Miss Simon.

So yeah. There I was, feeling warm.

As aforementioned, I don't often feel this way. In fact, I can't remember the last time that I truly felt like this. Warm not just physically, but also in the depths of my soul.

It was weird. I mean, I wasn't used to it. My eyes were heavy and my body was tired, but I did not, for once, feel like nothing would improve when I woke up. The warmth was a lingering one, that draped my every inch, and held me safe temporarily.

I didn't know for how long. But long enough.

There exists, a place between asleep and awake. That was where I was. Having escaped empty dreams of colours that were not blue or grey, I had not yet opened my eyes or established where, in fact, I was. All I knew was that it was a place I didn't want to leave.

It was when I finally determined the immediate source of warmth on my body that the uncertainty and the fear started to trickle in.

. . . I had just slept with Paul Slater.

He was there, beside me. I could feel him breathing.

Fingers were running down my spine. It was a sensation that would have thrilled anyone. Consciousness was setting in even more and I was able to locate all the entangled parts of my body. My arm, (now officially numb) was beneath him. My head was rested on his chest. I felt it rise and fall with each breath. My other warm was thrown haphazardously across him. His lazy fingers were wreaking a sinful havoc across the skin of my back.

Mental images flashed across my mind. Noises, voices, moans of pleasure echoed in my ears, a ghost from the night before.

You think I felt ashamed?

Hell NO.

I remembered everything. Which, you know, is kinda gross. But I did. Every detail, every movement, every feeling, every plea for him to stop as well as for him to not, every touch . . . it was all clear in my mind.

And now I was feeling terrified.

I mean . . . I'd just GIVEN myself to him. He was - you know. I mean, yeah, we've made it pretty clear that I'm not exactly experienced in -

God. You wouldn't believe that I am a twenty three year old woman, would you? I act like an eighth grader or something.

Okay. For the record; Paul was my, um, first . . . you know. That thing. Yeah. THAT thing.

AND IT WAS FREAKIN' SCARY.

I mean, I hadn't DONE anything like this before. Make out, yes. Removal of top, yes. Removal of bra? NO. Removal of PANTS?

NO.

I was just that prudish.

But, erm, Paul had just got the WHOLE cow and the four stomachs.

So I wasn't, you know, exactly sure about what to do next. God knew that he wasn't to impressed with my crappy performance. Anticipation was drowning me, now. I was so worried that he'd wake up, and . . . you know, tell me I had to go . . .

But you want to hear something really shameful?

I didn't regret it.

I mean . . . that - with Paul - that had been . . . whoa . . . and, you know, just - whoa.

Not to say I enjoyed it. I mean, sometimes I did. But more often than not, it . . . um . . . hurt. And, you know, I didn't know what to do or anything and it was just scary and he was obviously, er, pretty good at his thang.

Though I don't know why . . . the whole thing was like, scary in this way that - you know, it was new and such a huge thing - the act, not - erm, well him too I think - and yeah. I can't really explain it. Logic seemed to be something that was failing me. Logic, morality, and confidence.

Seriously. I mean, I couldn't even let him know I was AWAKE. Yeah, wow, we have a great running relationship, don't we?

Well, sorry. But Paul's the kind of guy you'd just think of to be not-so-nice after something like that. I don't know why. Just, it'd be like, if he DIDN'T think you were good enough or something, he'd be all, '. . . Er, I'll uh . . . call you. Don't call me,' and then he'd never speak to you again.

And that was what had me gripped in terror. I mean . . . the prospect of him doing something like that after how much I'd just given to him.

Yes, I'm pretty well aware that I'm making no kind of sense. But you get that.

The feeling of his fingers across my skin was becoming harder and harder to resist. All I wanted to do was shudder from his touch but I didn't actually want him to know that I wasn't sleeping still. I mean . . . that would probably lead to talking. Or dissing due to lack of sexual skills, whatever came first. When his grazing hand dipped to my lower back though, my hand on his arm tensed hard in an effort to make no noise, alerting him that I was indeed awake.

He stopped completely. The breath that had been tickling my neck even stopped.

Then he was all, ' . . . Hi.'

Wow. That was lame. He screws a girl and then is all "Hi."

Well, I can do that too.

'Uh . . . hi.'

See? Look at me go.

. . . Okay, this was going to suck.

I swallowed, and debated whether to look at him or not. I mean . . . did I really not to? Was I ready to be rejected so badly?

. . . Erm, not really.

But I did anyway.

I shifted my head so it was no longer resting just on his shoulder and a little against his neck, and then I twisted a little, and looked up at him warily.

Whoa . . . now there's a smug lookin' guy.

Erm . . . yay?

I blinked a little, trying to think of something to say. The feeling of him against me was having quite an effect on my ability of speech. As in, it just wasn't happening.

Seriously, though . . . he looked . . . ugh.

No wonder bloody Dani didn't dump him. If anyone got to see someone looking like that every morning, they'd hang onto them and outright refuse to let go.

As a distraction, (for me, NOT him) I just checked that the covers were, erm, FIRMLY pulled over my chest and that nothing worthy of censorship was in sight. Nope. All good. I mean, well, it didn't exactly matter if he couldn't see them.

They were kind of leaning on him.

. . . Which is so gross, I'm sorry . . . I should shut up -

Oh, God, this was awkward.

Seriously, the pair of us were just LYING there. I don't think that either one of us could think of anything to say. I mean, the only things that were coming to my head were kind of gross.

I'm sure you'll agree that "nice dick" sounds kind of crude.

Well, be rest assured. Paul Slater was NOT an assassin.

We all know that assassins do it from behind.

Cough.

'Um,' I said, ' . . . Good morning.'

GOOD MORNING! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?

YOU DON'T SAY THAT TO SOMEONE YOU JUST – YOU KNOW.

But I guess it was that that made him grin.

'Morning, Suze,' he smirked.

His gaze was one that was oozing of confidence. It had a hold on me, one so dominant that I couldn't look away. It was like I was awaiting instructions, or something.

God, this was so scary . . .

You watch. As soon as the conversation gets wooden enough, he'll be all, "Look Suze, you're great. Really. Just . . . you know, you're not my type . . . sorry toots. Now get out."

'Sleep well?' he asked with a humoured curiosity.

I forced a smile. 'Yeah, by the time we actually got to sl - '

I broke off very suddenly with a hideous blush.

I WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO MENTION THE PREVIOUS NIGHT'S EVENTS THIS EARLY IN THE TALK! AAAH!

He started laughing.

Paul had a nice smile. I mean, I probably would have appreciated it more if I wasn't emotionally preparing myself for the dissing of a lifetime.

I mean, I knew it was coming. I knew it. You can't just . . .

Look, never mind.

Paul took a deep breath, and one of his hands came to my hair, and he started playing with it. Sorry, but that made my heart start thudding.

I mean, it didn't take all that much for Paul Slater to have that effect on me. But it was kind of in OVER-DRIVE at the moment. Can't imagine why.

I guess seeing someone naked can do that to you.

. . . Eww, Suze.

I closed my eyes, and said, 'Stop it.'

Of course, I meant the opposite. And by now, he knew that well.

In something of a dazed stupor, I was still staring into his eyes, but . . . kind of past them, you know? I dunno. Not actually AT them. I mean, I saw their icy blueness. It was like the sky just before sunrise, now. That grey-blue colour. Frozen.

Then I remembered the night before with a kind of . . . like, you know, it was a memory from a long time ago. Like so much time had passed since that moment when I had been so insanely mad at him. How I'd hated him with my every inch. How I didn't think death was bad enough for him.

And then how hard I'd been kissing him . . .

It seemed so illogical, the events that had followed from a fury that had been present in the pair of us then. I mean . . . while so mad at him, I couldn't have EVER anticipated doing . . . what I did.

Which I still didn't feel guilty about.

I know. I KNOW. I should have been cringing in my GRAVE from the shame.

But somehow . . . the prospect of giving something so precious to Paul didn't seem so repulsive.

Then again, I was kind of high on the fact that my skin was undergoing the most severe pleasure then, so ignore me.

After forever, I looked away. His gaze had started to be burnt into my memory. Which could have been a good or a bad thing. I was still unable to predict his next move; how he'd treat me; what he'd say . . .

Again, I rested the side of my face on his chest, and sighed. The rippling contours of his abdomen were truly a sight to see. Everything looked so perfectly sculpted.

Like Michelangelo's David or something.

Except . . . well, no offense to Michelangelo, but that guy was TINY.

I think Paul deserves a bit more credit than him.

My hand looked pale against Paul's tan. Seriously. I still didn't get how HE had found a way to be out in the sun all day long enough to acquire a decent one. My skin never seemed to tan anymore. Not much, anyway.

But that wasn't the point.

You know the funny thing?

. . . I wasn't scared of Paul Slater anymore.

I mean, I was. In a different way, now. First I had feared my life. Then I had feared my virtue. Now he'd conquered that, I feared my heart, and wondered how much it could actually take.

So, with Paul still grazing his fingers across my skin, I just lay with him, the warmth once again settling over me like warm feathers.

The occasional ice-cube would spoil my perfect eiderdown, as I'd remember something wrong, but it wouldn't last long. I'd block it from my mind.

I swear, thinking is never a good thing to do after you've just been done by Paul Slater.

Not only is it depressing, but it's downright dangerous.

Paul cleared his throat lightly, still touching me. 'Suze?' he asked softly, in a voice that had more tenderness than I could have hoped for.

Oh well . . . the rejection would come . . . just you wait, Suze, he won't disappoint.

'Hmm?' I said nervously.

'What are you thinking?'

. . . What a weird question.

'Uhhhh . . . ' I stalled. Wow. How to answer THAT? 'Just that . . . I guess I should be feeling guilty about . . . what we did . . . ' I trialed off, curling my fingers against his chest. Pangs of coldness were pressing against my skin.

His fingers paused momentarily on my back. Then, he dragged them to my arm and resumed thoughtfully. 'We should. But I'm not.'

'It's like,' I went on, 'I feel guilty that I'm not feeling guilty. I don't know . . . it's stupid - '

'I know what you mean,' he interrupted me. 'But I don't care anymore, Suze. I really don't. Guilt can go screw itself. I'm past it now.'

I smiled weakly. 'I know what you mean . . . not caring . . . '

And yet I did care. Just . . . for something different that I expected.

I shuffled around so I was no longer facing him. I frowned. My forehead hurt. Then, I felt his arm drape heavily over me.

The fact that he still wanted to touch me was something that cheered me up a little. I mean . . . at least he wasn't disgusted. Yet.

With a sigh, I rolled back my shoulder into him. I could feel his warm breath now on my earlobe. It tickled inside my ear.

Now, the licks of coldness were more frequent. I was so scared that I would lose the warmth that was haunting me. I wanted it to stay so badly. I slid my arm out so I was no longer lying on it, and I wrapped it around myself, resting it on the arm that he'd cast over me. I was getting colder . . .

'Suze?' he said again uncertainly, 'Are you okay?'

I didn't answer for a moment.

Then I responded with a pretty unconvincing, 'Uh . . . fine.'

Oh yeah. That word means nothing to Paul when it comes from me. Whenever I say that . . . he KNOWS it's something else.

So I guess that was what possessed him to, oh, I dunno, rip me back around so suddenly, I WAS ON MY BACK, and he was lying over me, giving me an intense look of analysis. My eyes were his ABC books. He could read me with astounding ease.

I found myself, once again, breathing harder than I should have. Clenching images from the night before made me shudder from the familiarity of him over me like that. In a good and bad way.

As in . . . well . . . it wasn't something that I hated, as such.

You can't hate something that feels that good.

'What's wrong?' he pried, pinning me down.

I blinked up at him. God . . . he looked hot . . . he - SUZE, EYE-RAPING THE BAD MAN, OKAY?

'Nothing's wrong,' I said quickly.

I didn't move. Which, you know, I didn't exactly have a big PROBLEM with.

He gently ran his knuckle down the side of my face, with something like affection. 'Did I . . . did I hurt you? Last night, I mean.'

I went a dark shade of red. Ooooooh, crap . . .

'Uh - ' I started. He knew. Shit, he knew.

NUH, SUZE. I THINK IT WAS KIND OF OBVIOUS WHEN YOU ALMOST STARTED CRYING WHEN HE - DID THAT . . . er . . . sexy thing.

Cough.

'Um,' I elaborated.

He exhaled, and with his hand, caressed the side of my face. For some reason, I just couldn't imagine him doing that to any other girl. Cupping their face, I mean. It just seemed . . . unlike him.

It made me feel special that it was MY face he was touching like that.

Uncomfortably, he said, 'Was that your first . . . time?'

Before nodding, I looked away.

Okay, now I felt like a sucky loser.

GOD, PAUL. I MEAN, WHO EVEN ASKS THAT? THAT'S JUST WEIRD.

I guess it was understandable, though. I mean . . . I had kind of made a scene when . . . um . . . certain sheets of paper were going in the printer.

If you don't understand that . . . don't ask. Really, don't.

I guess that I was kind of wigging out from the sheer SPEED of everything. I mean, it was making my head spin. Almost get killed . . . have an argument . . . sleep with a guy I've hated for so many years . . .

Hey. At least my life isn't boring . . . right?

Ugh. I darn well wish it was sometimes.

Paul's look changed again, into one that was very soft. Again, he tickled the back of his hand down my cheek, and I sighed. There was a light smile on his face. I didn't know why, exactly. I mean . . . I don't think it had anything to do with "I JUST NAILED SUZE SIMON. SCORE!" or anything.

His smile was meant to be read on a connotative level.

But I suck at deeper meanings to stuff.

'You think I suck now, don't you?' I said crummily. 'Oh well, I'm pretty aware that I am, in every way, a loser – '

'I don't think that,' he corrected me. He leant down, and kissed just above my left eyebrow. Still smiling that little smile.

And soon, I guess I was smiling like that.

. . . Oh, shut up.

Still feeling scared about what was, and what indeed HAD happened, I just closed my eyes. He came back to my side, and pulled me into him, my hair crumpled in his hand.

'You're beautiful,' he whispered in my ear.

. . . Um . . . okay . . . That was random. I mean, you can't exactly be all, "LIAR! DIE, FOOL!" when someone compliments you. You just can't. And you can't go "thanks," when you technically don't believe what the other person is saying.

But you can stay silent.

Silence is good.

Ha. We weren't exactly employing it the night before . . . eww . . .

I couldn't understand why, but it was like EVERYTHING else in the world had stopped, due to the semi-terrifying one I'd just created with Paul. Rare thoughts were being filtered into my mind, and I was not capable of thinking about ANYTHING but what we'd done together, and how it had felt . . .

We were breathing at the same time, now. Breathe in . . . breathe out . . . in . . . out . . .

A motion I knew damn well now.

How I shudder.

I didn't understand so many things. I mean . . . what had changed between the two of us? Since when had we stopped hating each other? I didn't get it. I mean . . . there were things that I still hated about him. A lot of things.

How on earth can you be intimate with someone you hate so much?

It didn't make any sense. None. I mean, also about the whole no-shame thing. I SHOULD have felt ashamed of myself. I'd turned into exactly what he'd said.

Well, not exactly. I wasn't exactly JESSE'S whore, was I?

Ugh.

But, I just felt like I couldn't feel bad. Which was horrible. I mean, I knew perfectly well that I should have felt bad about what I had done. I mean . . . eww . . .

It was hard to feel wrong, though, when things felt right.

Just – they SHOULDN'T have.

You know?

'So,' Paul said, 'you're . . . okay?'

I murmured a, 'Yeah. Just . . . I just w – nothing.'

'What?'

'Never mind.'

'No, tell me.'

I sighed, as his hand stopped delighting the skin on my arms so he could listen. 'What have we done?'

Paul must have been under the impression that that question was a rhetorical one, because he only responded with a solemn, 'Hmm.'

The niggling enquiry soon was put on the back burner again as he trailed his fingers up my hip, beneath the blanket. I shut up pretty quickly with that, and closed my eyes.

. . . Erm . . . again, not all that interested in talking.

A gentle, muted light was bathing the room in colours that were not warm, but not cold. More of in a cool, neutral way. I dunno. It was restful.

I smiled a little, trying to think of something to break the silence which, in itself, had become a sound. 'You totally hog the covers,' I giggled.

GIGGLED.

OH GOD ALMIGHTY, SMITE ME WHERE I LAY.

I felt Paul's grin. 'Ha, Dani says that too.'

. . . And there you go. I'd successfully pinpointed something to feel bad about.

Oh my God.

Dani.

My whole body suddenly tensed, and I moved away from his warm form. 'Paul.'

His lazy grin faded a little. 'Uh huh?'

'Dani,' I said. 'Oh my God – I'm . . . I'm so sorry – ' And with that, I started moving, with the intention of leaving, in an effort to avoid the inevitable, impending, "Oh yeah, her. In that case, Suze, have a nice life," scenario.

His eyes went a little empty for a moment. He was frowning, looking pained. 'Don't be sorry,' he said after a few seconds, as his hand came gently to my wrist, pulling me back to him, 'She doesn't have anything to do with this. Suze, it's over. You heard us fighting. That was it. She doesn't want anything to do with me. I was trying to help her, and – ' he forced a look of nonchalance, 'Don't be sorry.'

'You're not ending it because of – this,' I asked anxiously.

He laughed. His hair didn't look so perfectly curly. It was tousled and messy. Probably due to the amount of times I'd dragged my hands through it. Obviously, he hadn't shaved this morning. I could see the emergence of a shadow of facial hair across the lower part of his face. His skin seemed so deeply tanned. You know, like there was hot blood pumping beneath it. Which there was.

. . . Paul wasn't as cold blooded as I had always assumed he was.

Which doesn't really make sense. I mean, I'M not a callous person, and I'm always cold and un-tanned-looking. And . . .erm, stuff. Why couldn't I be warm like him?

What is it about a person that gives them body heat? I mean, is it just something genetic? Like, some chromosome that gave the instruction for YES, BODY HEAT in the body? If so, why didn't I get it? Why is it that I always had to be cold? Even when I had warm blood?

I didn't get it.

I didn't get ANYTHING.

'No,' he reassured me. 'Not because of this. Suze, this wasn't some mistake, okay? At least . . . not for me,' he added. 'Can't speak for you though, I guess. Can I?'

. . . I dunno. Could he?

WAS it a mistake? I mean, in the grand scheme of things, was I going to look back and regret what I'd done? Was I going to live in fear of ever feeling passion like that again?

And what if he was just bullshitting again? I mean, all the guys did it. And lets face it; Paul was an all the guys type of guy, most of the time. So I didn't know whether I could trust him. Cole Kennedy had made it so my body was a fragile thing.

But my heart was even more so.

And I was not ready for it to be shattered again. Not after what Jesse had done to it so long ago.

I wasn't sure if I was ready for ANYTHING. I mean . . . everything was moving so fast that it seemed to be blurred. Things kept on happening. Big things. Things that had impact on me. It scared me.

But, you know, this by far took the cake.

I mean, a girl only gets one chance at virginity. After that, you know, there's no more.

And yeah, I just LOST MINE, OKAY?

SO IT WAS PRETTY HIGH ON MY THINGS-THAT-HAPPENED-TO-ME-TODAY LIST.

'What did we do, Paul?' I asked him again in a quiet voice.

He gave me a duh-what-do-YOU-think? look, and was all, EVER so bluntly, 'We had sex, Suze.'

Thank the frigging LORD he didn't call it making love. I would have snapped if he had. Because that actually requires love. And I'm not quite sure that exists between me and Paul Slater.

I mean . . . I'm not an idiot. There was something. Something so strong that it made us . . . um . . . do that sexy thing. But God, LOVE didn't HAVE to be responsible for THAT. I wasn't even sure if LUST was. I mean, yes. I found Paul attractive. Very much so. But just his LOOKS couldn't cause me to do the things I'd done.

. . . It was like something bigger was at work. Greater than me.

Something out of control, wild, and angry.

Like my shifter thingie. You know . . . when it just took over me . . . like a possession, or something . . .

Except, you know, when that happened, it never felt like ME.

With Paul, I had never felt more like Susannah Simon in my whole life.

Whether that was a good or a bad thing, I can't sure.

I cracked an anxious grin, and looked away. 'Right,' I said.

Because, you know, that was a pretty scary thought. Just remembering all the things he'd made me feel made me shiver. 'I don't think it was a mistake,' I said quietly, my eyes reaching his again. He was facing me, his gaze riveted and intense. Then, he smiled a little, brought his thumb to my face and grazed it across my skin. I didn't say anything. The sound of silence was one that I was growing fond of, when I was with Paul.

'Suze,' he closed his eyes. 'I'm sorry.'

Uh oh. This is it. I'm sorry, but due to your poor sexual abilities, you have turned me off women completely. I shall now go frolic with Miles. He can meet my new manly needs.

I turned someone gay because I suck in bed! OH GOD.

I swallowed. 'Er . . . why?'

Because I prefer sausage to taco. Isn't it obvious?

I have GOT to stop watching 50 First Dates.

He opened his eyes again, stared at me for a second, and pulled me that little bit closer to him again. Like he needed to keep touching me or something. Like it wasn't real enough for him. Like he was scared that it wasn't actually happening.

I know I was.

I was flush up against him now. The body heat came swarming back over me, and again, I stopped feeling so cold.

'Because I'm an idiot,' he said.

'I could have told you that.'

'Hmm,' he agreed. 'I'm sorry . . . about everything.'

I didn't follow. My expression must have revealed this, because he sighed, and then looked back at me again, like I was dragging him across a pit of hot coals, or something.

'Everything,' he detailed. 'How long it really took me to realize that I had never gotten over you five years ago.'

All the muscles in my body suddenly went deadly rigid, as if they too were listening to his words.

He went on, 'I've been kidding myself since then, Suze. I thought I'd be over you. I mean . . . God, what kind of guy doesn't forget a girl after five years? That's just – whatever. The point was, I wanted to hate you. And a part of me did. But that was only because the other part of me wanted you so badly.'

. . . Wanted you so badly . . . No poof talks like THAT. Unless he was delusional, and thought I had a man-bit when I obviously did not.

GOD, I'm so WEIRD! Not now Suze, okay? Important Slater-speech here, now LISTEN, YOU RETARD.

'Oh,' I said lightly. 'So . . . that's why you went and fell in love with Britain's hottest supermodel?'

Wow. The bitch DOES have teeth.

He groaned. 'Love? You think I love Dani?'

I rolled onto my back and rolled my eyes. 'I don't know. Do you?'

If he still did, and he just slept with ME, I seriously would recommend that they see a counselor about their cheating issues.

Paul, again, laughed. 'Oh God . . . Suze, listen. I – me and Dani, we're – we met at – I don't love her, okay? She doesn't love me.'

'So she's your bed buddy,' I concluded crudely.

Paul snorted. 'It sounds bad when you put it that way.'

'It is bad,' I snapped, 'To have a relationship based on – that. It's a lie. Another one to add to your long list. And another reason not to trust you – '

He yanked me so I was facing him. 'Suze, look. I've been a jerk. I know that – '

'Jerk is a mild word for it,' I replied aloofly.

'Please,' he said angrily. 'Dani, she – I don't know what she is to me. Or what I am to her. I don't think it's supposed to make sense. All I know is, she needs serious help. She's really sick. And she's not listening to me. But that's not what I'm trying to say – '

'Is that why you broke up?' I asked quietly.

He sighed, and grinned with no humour. 'She said I made her like that . . . '

I rolled my eyes. 'God. She's blaming you. Well, don't think that you caused her stupid eating disorder or whatever she has. I get her, now. I mean . . . I thought she was just a b – really mean person,' I censored quickly, 'But, well, now I get that she's just . . . you know.'

'Yeah,' Paul said. 'I know.'

Good.

After Psychology-Suze disappeared, (gawd, I'm NEVER going to get a degree with a crappy diagnosis like that. Ha, ". . . you know." Wow. That's specific,) I lost my confidence again. 'So,' I said, 'Uh, what – I mean, you were saying before th – '

'Yeah,' he muttered. He pushed my hair behind my ear, looking like he was taking so much care to do so. He parted his lips, as he went to say something, with eyes that looked, for a split second, almost as vulnerable as Danielle Moore had yesterday.

Then he closed his mouth again, blinked, and the look was gone.

What the HELL had he been about to say?

'So whatever,' he said. 'I guess Dani was just another attempt to get you out of my head.'

'That's why you always find it necessary to kiss her in front of me,' I murmured wryly.

He grinned, sheepish. 'I told you, I'm an idiot. I wanted to get you jealous. How mature is that, though? Wanting you to feel the same pain I felt?' He too, rolled on his back, and glared up at the ceiling. The bit of chest that wasn't covered by the blanket was tanned, compared to the white sheets.

I still have no idea how lawyers find time to work out that much.

Meh. It seemed to be a pretty easy job, seeing as he had gotten this time off of work to come to a school . . . kick ghosts out . . . save stupid brunettes from drowning . . . sleep with said stupid brunettes . . .

Ya know. Same ol' same ol.

'Why have you been such a dick, though? I mean – ' I went kind of red, 'While we're on the topic of your idiocy, why the hell did you say that to me?'

'Say wh – ' he began, but his face changed. 'Oh. That.'

'Yeah,' my eyes went cold. 'That.'

He lifted his hand to his hair. Eww. Armpit hair. Sorry, that always freaks me out. I mean . . . even on guys, I get scared by it. It's just like . . . demonic or something. I mean, God must have serious issues if He decided to randomly throw wads of hair under someone's arms, when it would only ever be shaved off. There is no point to armpit hair. I mean, eyebrows and eyelashes are there to protect ones' eyes. But armpits, what the hell do THEY do?

Besides look gross.

Unless, of course, you're a twenty-three-year-old man with so much sex appeal that armpit hair suddenly isn't a turn off.

But whatever, where was I? Oh yeah. He lifted his hand to his hair, and looked really pained. Like he too had a bruise, and I was repeatedly poking it.

Big deal.

'Simple as this,' he explained. 'I wanted to hate you.'

. . . Uh, yay?

'That's what every girl loves to hear,' I said sarcastically.

'No – ' he groaned. 'I – ' Now he REALLY looked stuck. Like he wanted to say something, but really didn't want to. 'I hated the stupid hold that you had over me. One you've had over me since the day I met you. And it wasn't going away, which pissed me off. I mean, the fact that I still wanted you was really hard to live with. And when we had to be on this job together, I was like, " . . . shit," because – well, old feelings die hard.'

So . . . ?

'And yeah, by wanting to hate you, I guess I tried painting a picture for myself, one that would disgust me and make me hate you. Anything to make those feelings stop. But I screwed up bad that night at the club.'

'What do you – '

'I asked you to dance,' he turned back to face me, with eyes that looked kind of apprehensive. They looked greyer than their usual cold-steel blue. 'And after dancing with you,' he said, 'Fuck, I wanted to kiss you . . . '

Another violent shiver ravished me then. But in a very, very, very good way.

'Oh, God,' I said in realization.

'And because of that, I was mad at myself . . . and I retaliated for my benefit, trying to again paint you in my head as someone I could hate,' he went on quickly. 'But damn, Suze. I can't hate you. I wish I could, but I can't. I hate what you do, and what you make me feel. But I'll never hate you.'

There was so much unsaid. Questions I wanted to ask.

But he'd told me enough, for now. It was so hard to digest.

. . . This guy cared. I mean . . . I had just done something with him that was so special to me . . . and, you know what?

I was pretty certain that it was not something I'd regret.

At least . . . not yet.

I didn't know what happened to me then, but I felt this surge of something compelling, that rendered me very upset. I guess it was the delayed reaction to the whole sleeping-with-a-man-for-the-first-time-in-like-ever thing, or something. I didn't know.

It could have been something else, but I do not wish to go there.

And yeah, that made me suddenly need for him to be holding me. I moved into him, my eyes closed. As if an automatic movement, his arm wrapped around me affectionately. Being so close to him inspired a feeling that I couldn't hope to describe.

Nothing made sense anymore . . .

His face lowered to the side of my neck, where his lips lingered briefly. I could feel his breath, and I was pretty sure he could feel the dull thudding of my pulse. Then, he began leisurely kissing the skin there. It thrilled my nervous system beyond all reason. I gasped, muttering my highly ineffective, 'aaah . . . stop . . . '

Something that he, as usual, interpreted correctly.

I glanced down at his digital watch – something that was kind of hard, considering how he kept moving as I went to identify the numbers – and saw that it was eight.

'Paul, I should – haha - go – ' I started, which made him pause. He gave me a smirk, and said, 'No. No, you shouldn't,' and returned to my neck. I tried not to encourage him too much more, although, God he knew what he was doing . . .

'It's – eight – ' I said breathily.

'Eight. Nice number. Even. Single digit. So what . . . ?'

I wheezed. His kisses made it hard to breathe. In a good way. 'Cee and Adam are probably making breakfast by now, and so we should – '

Although, the sudden collision of his lips on mine made me completely forget what I was going to say.

And again, I was severely intoxicated by him.

He rolled me onto my back, lying on top of me. His chest was warm on mine through the sheet. His hands smoothed down my face, my neck, my shoulders, resting on my arms. It's kind of mind-blowing, that so much can be just . . . forgotten when he kissed me. It was like . . . immediate amnesia or something.

I was still scared by the fact that we'd done so much more than this last night. Kidding, I mean. And yeah, I was still freaked by the blurringly fast pace in which my world was spinning. I mean, I still couldn't see the connection in hating someone, then Doing Certain Things with them.

Unless I didn't hate him as much as I thought.

After all, there's a very fine line between hate and lo -

'Paul - ' I breathed, turning my head away. I shut my eyes from the pure sin that was coursing through me. It felt so good it almost hurt. His kisses wandered to my earlobe, and I half-laughed, half-cried. I mean, it was kind of funny, the amount of pleasure that a single pair of lips could induce.

A feeling of something strong was blossoming in my stomach, and was washing my mind clean like detergent to a grimy plate. This REALLY embarrassing moan-y noise erupted from my mouth. A major agitation was occurring in me, and I felt weird, and - and special and stuff and like I should have been doing something else.

His kiss was illicit and poisonous and ever so nice. I could feel his hand dip beneath the sheets, as he slid it down my stomach to the HIGHLY sensitive skin there. I kind of winced - again, in a good way, and he gave me a wicked smirk.

He knew what he was doing to me. And he loved it.

. . . Hmph. Asshole.

Kind of makes you see the difference between a guy like Jesse and a guy like Paul. I mean . . . Jesse would stop when I asked him to. He would be very guilty about his forward actions. He would avoid me after kissing me, even if the both of us had loved it.

Paul, though, was tuned into everything I felt. He picked up all the tiny signals - the movements, the expressions, the sounds I made - he pieced them together to discover my true reaction. When he found it, he wouldn't leave it alone because he knew exactly what I wanted, which was consequently what he wanted.

And as much as I loved Jesse, that thing with him was frustrating. I can't blame him, though. It was his time of upbringing, and stuff. And he had morals.

Paul . . . I didn't know. His psyche was one that even I, budding psychologist, was too scared to explore.

With Paul, the thrill was there. It always had been. Being in his very presence had its danger.

And because I'm, of course, Susanna Simon, I only like, just figured this out.

Gawd.

I shuddered from his touch. He knew exactly where to effect me like that. He knew me. On a level that was so much higher than physical. Or emotional.

He knew me on an astral level, as well.

Which is something that no one but a shifter can understand.

It had something to do with purpose, motive, intent and respect for all aspects of life, whether they be dead, undead, alive, or at peace.

I - I can't explain it. But it's something that was apart of me, and of him. And he knew me in that way.

He gently pulled his mouth away from me, and just kind of lay over me, supporting himself with his elbows on either side of my shoulders. He stared down at me, his eyes heavy with something that weighed more than ice.

'God,' he said softly.

'What?' I panicked. Oh my God - PIMPLE!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!

He smiled, and again, just stared.

WAS THE PIMPLE GROWING?

'No, what?' I was freaking by then.

IT WAS A BLACKHEAD, WASN'T IT.

SHIT.

OR WHAT IF IT WAS A COLD SORE?

OR HERPES?

Or - Meningococcal?

WHAT THE HELL IS MENINGOCOCCAL ANYWAY?

. . . Don't scream, don't scream, DON'T SCREAM –

'Suze?' he checked, 'Uh - '

'DO I HAVE SOMETHING ON MY FACE?' I demanded, terrified.

AND DO YOU HAVE AN STD? OR AIDS? BECAUSE I SWEAR TO GOD, I'LL KILL YOU IF YOU DO.

Again, he laughed. 'Yeah.'

F-YUCK!

'What?' I freaked.

He smirked. 'This.'

And he freaking kissed my cheek.

Okay. Now, some of you romantics may be sighing or whatever, or some corn-haters may be scoffing at the pure cheesiness of that.

BUT THAT FRIGGING SCARED THE CRAP OUT OF ME.

'That wasn't funny,' I said heatedly to him.

He grinned. 'It was for me.'

I narrowed me eyes. 'Right. Whatever. Well guess what?'

YOUR ARMPIT HAIR IS REALLY GROSS. TAKE THAT, SLATER FIEND.

'Hmm?'

'I have to go.'

His face fell. 'Don't.'

'That's what you get,' I sniffed at him, shoving him off of me. 'For scaring me.

'But I just love to scare you,' he drawled in a low voice.

Okay - um . . . creepy much?

I shivered again. In that good way. 'Well, okay, turn around,' I said.

'Why?' he asked, giving me a weird look.

'I'm going to get dressed,' I said snobbily.

'Nothing I haven't seen before,' he said dryly, his eyes dancing. Playing with the fire that he, as a shifter, could control so well.

I fell a very deep shade of crimson. 'Shut up,' I snapped at him.

Anyway. It was DARK last night. I bet there's a lot of stuff he hasn't scene.

Pfft. Like - like my FEET.

He didn't go NEAR my feet. So there.

He groaned, supporting his head on his hand. The sheet was halfway down his torso.

Stop drooling, Simon.

My hands felt like shriveling up, or something. As if I couldn't go for that long without touching him. God, I swear, that chest was freakin' awesome. It was like - GOD.

There sound be a religion to worship that chest.

With a mantra.

And vanilla scented candles.

'Suze?' Paul prompted. 'I'm up here.'

SHITTINESS.

With a face now hotter than I thought possible, (and not in the good way) I blinked hurriedly, and huffily snapped, 'Turn around already!'

And I shoved a pillow in his face.

'If I must,' he muttered, turning around. The twisting of his muscular back was seriously a sight to see. Again, I stared at it for a moment, then came to my senses, and quickly slid from the bed, finding various articles of clothing littered on the floor and donning them. When I stood up, I was clad in my chubby-cow pajamas from last night.

'Uh,' I said, and he turned back to face me. A kind of happy smile came to his face.

That smile meant something to me.

The white sheets were lazily draped over his lower body, making him look like he was ready for a photoshoot or something. Ha. Seriously, someone could make a MAGAZINE on him for the middle-aged women with terrible sex-lives to ogle when their husbands couldn't get it up and didn't want to resort to viagra.

For a second we just stared at each other. Then I kind of motioned nervously to the door and was all, 'Uh - I'm gonna . . . have a shower.'

'Good call,' he said with a smirk. 'What might you be washing off, Ms. Simon?'

. . . Okay, ewww . . .

I wrinkled my nose. 'Gross, Paul.'

Which it WAS.

The silken fabric of my daisy boxers hung loosely from my hips. I felt weird in just that and a stupid tank top.

And underwear, of course.

Paul, however, didn't really seem to mind.

I felt like echoing that "I'm up here" crack, but I didn't.

'Okay,' he said, rolling on his back, still looking at me. He tossed his hands behind his head.

I swear to God, I was going to get a razor MYSELF and shave his armpits - okay . . . ewwwwwwwwww -

Sorry. I'm not cool when it comes to pubic hair.

Although, armpit hair may as well be called PUBLIC hair. Guys make no attempt to cover/get rid of it.

Honestly. Shame on them.

But seriously. It was like, Paul, confident much?

God. He KNEW he was pretty much a sex-god.

Hmph. LEAVING now.

'Suze?' he called malevolently. 'Forgetting something?'

I turned back, and put my hands on my hips. 'What?'

With his index finger, he dangled -

My bra.

I glared ferociously, stalked back over to him, snatched it away, and stalked back to the door. 'Screw you,' I said.

'You just did,' he pointed out.

'Touché,' I replied.

He laughed at me. And I kind of laughed too.

Gmefsghijmm . . . pfft . . .

'I'll - erm, see you at breakfast,' I said. I still didn't know what the hell he was going to say to Dani. I mean, what? Was he just going to send her away, now? She only STAYED because he was here. God knows she wasn't an actual contribution to the SIA.

But what if he just went down and pretended like nothing happened? I mean, what if, at breakfast, he was like to Dani, 'Hey baby . . . nice sleep?' and kissed her, followed by a cutting glare at me saying DON'T-SAY-ANYTHING.

I'd die . . .

Crawl into a dark hole and die.

I already felt riddled with giddy fear about what was going to happen now. And God knows my whole body ached.

Because, erm . . . we were pretty pissed off at each other, if you catch my drift.

Snort.

'Yeah,' he nodded, smoothing his hair back a bit. In a okay-getting-a-little-nervous-here kind of way. The thing that Jesse did.

I've come to the conclusion that it's a guy thing.

With that now confirmed, I gave him a kind of guilty smile, and left the room. God. Random room, much?

It frigging better have been soundproof or my frigging life was frigging over.

God. Who knew those noises EXISTED.

I felt, um, kind of sore still. Not to go into detail (or location,) but yeah. Holding onto the wall a little, I made it successfully up to my room. There, I grabbed my required clothing for the day - purple halter neck, brown pocket-y jeans and my notorious Adidas sneakers, (and ALL of my underwear this time, hmph) and set off to take a VERY MUCH SO NEEDED SHOWER.

I certainly won't go into detail with that, either.

Suffice it to say - erm . . . no, I had better keep that to myself, too.

God. Sex was freakin' complicated.

When I reached the bathroom door, as soon as I touched it, I got a chill of something cold. My hand suddenly went rigid or something. A shiver ran through me.

In a bad way.

Like an instinct or something.

I shoved the door open determinedly -

'Eww,' I snapped, 'God, Dani, lock the door much?'

The shower was running gently. And there was no mistaking the flaming red hair through the glass.

God. My instincts are spot on. Walking in on Danielle Moore in the shower is pretty horrible.

I backed out of the bathroom in deep disgust. Then I proceeded to the next bathroom on that floor.

Upon arrival, I dumped my stuff on the bench, and looked at the mirror momentarily. It wasn't a very big mirror. Obviously Fortunaschwein didn't want their macho guys to get too vain. But it was a mirror all the same. I inspected my face.

. . . No cold sore. It's okay, Suze, calm down. Get your blood pressure back to normal.

Thank God . . .

With a sigh of relief, I kind of smiled at nothing. Then, I turned the water of the shower on till it steamed, and stepped in.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah . . . That's the stuff . . .

I think halfway through washing my hair did I suddenly start laughing uncontrollably. No, seriously. It was like a bubble in my stomach that wouldn't stop.

The fact that I had just slept with a man I had claimed to hate for like, seven years now or something, seemed suddenly HILARIOUS. I was sick with the giddy feeling in my stomach.

Whoa . . . I felt so strange . . . it was like my body was a different one.

In a good way.

Not, you know, Dani's stupid plastic-surgery-first-there-was-nothing-now-there-are-TITS way.

I dragged my hands through my wet hair. It felt smooth and clean. With all excess conditioner out, I stepped out of the shower, dried myself, dressed, towel-dried my hair, and then blow dried it quickly.

Rush job. But whatever.

. . . Eww.

That could be another name for a quickie, or something.

. . . IGNORE ME, KINDLY.

After I was squeaky clean - save the whole loss-of-innocence crap - I grabbed my stuff and made my way down the long corridors back to my room. The halls didn't look so grey. There was sunshine seeping through. It made it look golden.

Kind of.

. . . Well, sor-RY for trying to be the optimist of a gloomy place then?

As I past the shower, I frowned when I still heard the water running. I stopped, and curiosity got the better with me.

Um . . . was she okay?

I carefully pressed the doorknob open again. 'Dani, don't tell me you're throwing up in the shower. We don't have a plunger.'

. . . Erm. No reply.

I rolled my eyes. Okay, I know it's perfectly gross to, you know, open the shower to someone, but she might have passed out or something.

'Dani? Are you - '

Then I dropped my stuff, and screamed like hell.

No wonder she hadn't answered me.

The first thing about corpses is that they're generally silent.