Full credit goes to Jane for a line that Suze says in the chapter . . .

OH MY GOD, HAYLEY GOT INTO HER UNIVERSITY THAT SHE WANTED, YAY! CLAPS ALL AROUND!

(Hayley: Yeah, that'd be TCU! GO HORN FROGS!)

Okay. I'm aware that this chapter is criminally short. I know. And I know how long it's been since we've updated. What...four? Five months?

- FL -

Okay, when Paul had suggested that think about going to a motel to get some 'privacy,' I really hadn't thought that he actually MEANT it.

I mean, Paul's a funny guy. He tells jokes – usually dry, sarcastic ones about me that only he gets. He likes getting me all hot and bothered with his teasing . . . loves getting reactions from me.

But one thing I shouldn't have doubted about that man for a second, was his freakin' libido.

He badly wanted us to have some 'alone time,' and he would not rest until we had some 'alone time.'

And when we finally got some alone time, uh, he still wouldn't rest until AFTER we'd finished what he so badly needed alone time to do.

Get the picture? Yeah.

So there I was at two in the morning, breathing VERY heavily with Paul's arm across my chest. A giggle escaped my jittery lips, and I buried my face against Paul's shoulder.

'Enjoy the break, Simon,' Paul growled into my hair, 'I'm not done with you yet.'

'You most certainly are,' I snapped good-naturedly, 'I don't remember when I've ever been more tired. Mentally, not physically.'

'Don't insult me, woman,' he said.

I laughed. 'It's . . . late. Go to bed.'

'We are in bed,' he pointed out, running his fingers down my back. 'Ergo my very subtle hints to continue our recent beastly ways.'

'Insatiable bastard,' I commented. 'Shut up; I'm sleepy.' I twisted in the king bed to face him. I could hardly see his face, it was so dark. But I saw the smirk.

Oooh, boy. You couldn't miss it. It was twenty miles across his face. Paul's manner was so playful, and yet the way his striking blue eyes bore into me, I could tell he meant business.

I rolled my eyes – an action that he obviously couldn't see in the darkness – and kissed just below his chin. He made a pleased sound, and dragged my form closer to his with a voracious arm. Then, he crawled over me, kissing my neck and shoulders relentlessly. I started giggling uncontrollably.

'You're killing the mood,' he joked, making me laugh harder. 'Shut up, Simon. It's distracting me from my attempts to seduce you some more.'

'It – it tickles,' I was shaking with giggles, 'You know it tickles there – '

'Exactly,' he grinned against my skin. 'Let's see if I can find anywhere else that tickles . . . '

Okay, laughter thing? He REALLY wasn't helping to stop that and all . . .

After about half an hour's worth of affectionate kisses and kinky talk, he'd finally forgotten what his other brain was fiercely wanting, and had settled down into a light sleep. I smiled as I watched him sleep, twisting curls of his hair around my fingers very gently. I just felt . . . happy. Frivolous, too – but mostly exhausted. Because, Paul? Yeah, not the lenient type when it comes to all things sexy.

And me? Not exactly mature about all things sexy.

So I guess we were even. Sort of.

I really wasn't that tired, all of a sudden. Physically, I was spent – no matter how badly I'd lied to Paul before. My head was tumbling like clothes in a dryer; all warm and pleasant-like. After deeming that watching Paul sleep may have been a tad bit too fan-girl for my style, I slid stealthily from between the sheets, and grabbed a throw-rug that was on one of the couches beside the daggy motel bed.

What?

Paul had been horny.

He hadn't been thinking about how many stars his motel had to have when we pulled over. Neither had I.

I mean, there was nothing wrong with the Carmel River Inn. Sure, the rooms were a bit on the scruffy side, and stuff in general looked a little drab – but I honestly didn't care that much. I felt a lot more relaxed than I had in a long time, not to mention cheery. My face ached from smiling.

You know what? None of it matter as long as I was with Paul.

Parking my hiney down on the couch, clad in the throw-rug that I'd oh-so-expertly wrapped around my body, I just smiled, eyeing Paul's rising and falling chest. My breathing fell into sync with his, giving me another silly bubble of happiness.

Things were kind of scaring me a little. It was as if in the past week, so many pressures had been put on me to grow the hell up, and act like an adult. I'd been so used to acting like the little teen girl, so burdened with lusty, downy-faced boys. It wasn't until I started seeing the potential danger of these boys – these men, that I'd felt the real heat of what men could actually do to me. That it wasn't some hide-and-seek game; I really did have a problem. I needed to start dealing with the mess like an adult and not a child that kept running away from the scary monsters.

Maturity. Never one of my strong points.

Then there was the death. Dani's. You'd think that being a mediator, I'd be able to deal. Just another dead person, right?

Yeah, ghosts? A WHOLE different ballgame from corpses. Ghosts still have light in their eyes. You can still see that reflection . . . like when you're sketching a face, you have to be certain that you've got that little shape of white against the pupil, that reflection, to allow your portrait to have life.

Corpses don't have that light. Their eyes are hollow. Dead.

Seeing, let alone finding Dani's body like that had been one of the most terrifying moments of my life. I hadn't had the emotional maturity to deal with it like an adult, because in the last five years, I hadn't really ever grown up properly. I was still a kid in so many ways . . .

But the biggest slap in the face to my maturity had been, of course, losing it to Paul.

Sex.

They say that a lot of teenagers don't have the capacity to handle sex, and its emotional repercussions. Teenagers very rarely have a love that is unaffected by their rampant hormones, and first-time sex can be devastating to anyone, let alone a kid, when with the wrong person.

I hadn't been mature about sex at all. I'd reacted the way any kid would have.

I had a while to go before I matured properly. But I was catching up now. I was finally behaving like an actual adult. I was growing up, and I was willing to this time . . .

- 8 -

How I'd ended up back in the bed beside Paul, I had no idea. I mean, I'd definitely fallen asleep on that couch. I'm . . . almost sure I had.

I had, right?

At seven the next morning, I grumpily turned onto my stomach, burying the side of my face into my pillow. My back was kind of aching, and I still felt very tired. None of this rise-and-shine, bright-eyed-and-bushy-tailed crap. I was feeling funky.

. . . Then I remembered why.

Aww, shit-sticks. The speech, today.

With another groan, I rolled onto my back again, and stared up at the ceiling again, blinking the sleep out of my bleary eyes. My gaze flickered sideways, and I saw that Paul was staring at me intently.

'Whoa!' I jumped slightly. 'You - I didn't know you were awake, and you were just - ogling, and your eyes were all blue and squinty - '

He grinned at me. 'I was watching you sleep. It would have been a bit more romantic if you hadn't kicked me when I went to touch your face.'

'Oh,' I winced. 'Sorry. Where did I kick you?'

He gave me a take-three-guesses look, and I bit my lip. 'Oh,' I said again, smiling guiltily. 'Didn't know I had such good aim in my sleep.'

'Hah hah,' he was all sarcastic. 'So, what got your panties in a twist just now? Well, lack thereof. Nightmare?'

I sighed, and wriggled closer to him. 'Equivalent of. I just remembered, I gotta say a big almighty speech today at the reunion. Why couldn't they have given me a topic to write it on? Like, Hitler's rise to power, or . . . my opinions on abortion or something.'

'Or the stellar bedroom sex tricks your boyfriend can do,' Paul said.

'There's the shortest speech ever,' I smirked.

'Hey, be nice.'

'Aww, come on. You set yourself up for THAT one,' I defended, giving him a sweet smile. He looked affronted that I'd insulted his sexual capabilities, but rolled his eyes at me. 'Sticks and stones, Suze Simon.'

'Way to alliterate,' I muttered. 'Anyhow, got any advice for my future speech-making? What the hell am I going to talk about? Can I like . . . scream, 'LOOK! A HIGH VOLTAGE SIGN!' and then run from the reunion in terror?'

Paul snorted. 'High voltage sign, Suze?'

'Shut up.'

'Hmm,' he pondered, rolling on his back and pulling me against him. I stared down at him, waiting patiently for a heaven-sent solution to my public-speaking issue. 'Of course, my advice is to wing it . . . but that's just me.'

'But what am I winging? What basic subject am I going to babble about?' I asked desperately. 'I hate talking in public as it is. Ass kicking, I can do. Inspirational speeches? Not me.'

'Just – '

'If 'speak from your heart' are your next couple of words,' I said savagely, 'stop talking right now.'

Paul stopped talking. His gaze fell to the pillow, but the corners of his lips twitched upward.

I whimpered, and flopped on top of him in defeat. 'This sucks,' I said. 'Can't they just get Kelly Prescott to do it? She was the president!'

'I think she is doing one as well,' Paul mused, stroking my hair comfortingly. 'So as long as yours is better than hers, I'll be ecstatic. If not, it's the streets for you, missy. Because her speech is probably going to revolve around how much hotter she's gotten, and her sympathy for those who have put on weight.'

I smiled, my eyes closed against his shoulder. 'She's had her baby by now . . . '

'Oh yeah,' Paul said. 'Good for her.'

'You don't like her much, do you?' I lifted my head, and stared directly down at him.

He gave me a bored look, and shrugged. 'If twenty Kelly Prescotts stood in a row and I blew air through the ear of the end one, you'd feel the air come out the opposite side.'

I gave him a disapproving look. 'She's actually smart. She just acted dumb because thought guys liked that.'

'They don't,' Paul said darkly.

'Yeah,' I pointed out, 'You're more of the stalking, sexually harassing type, aren't you?'

His gaze snapped up to mine, and he smirked wryly. 'Cute.'

. . . OH! THAT'S why he was bitter about her!

I laughed at him scornfully. 'Oh, now I get it. You slept with her, didn't you.'

He screwed up his face. 'I knew you were going to ask that.'

'Hmm?'

'No.'

'Hmmmmmmm?'

'Fine. Once.'

'Liar. You were going out for like, three months.'

'Okay, more than once,' he muttered sheepishly. He looked as if he didn't want to talk about it anymore. But did that stop me from asking?

Heck no.

I batted my eyelids teasingly. 'Regrets, Paul Michael?'

'What?' he demanded guiltily, 'The person I actually wanted wasn't exactly slaking my desperate need for – '

I interrupted him with a haughty, 'Yeah. 'Desperate' is the word.'

He just laughed. 'Thanks for that, Simon. The Paul-bashing session is now over. Trust me, usually I'd be boasting about chicks I've nailed, but Kelly was definitely a blemish on my Wall of Pride.'

'You have a Wall of Pride,' I repeated dully. 'Who's up there? Mr Walden and Bradley Ackerman? What, do you have a Wall of Hope, too? I used to be up there with Natalie Portman, the Virgin Mary, and Jesse de Silva, right?'

'That's really off,' Paul wrinkled his nose. 'Don't joke about such blasphemous things.'

'The Virgin Mary?'

'No . . . de Silva,' he replied.

'Oh come on,' I teased. 'I saw you looking at his tight, tight pants . . . '

He snorted, sounding grossly affronted. 'Oh, please. At least I wasn't the one wanting to get in his tight, tight pants.'

'You're a dick,' I scowled at him. 'But then . . . you are what you eat.'

'Hey!'

Paul rolled over on top of me and pinned me down on the bed. I tried to push him away playfully, but he was far too strong. Finally he rolled back over, holding his hands in an 'I surrender' manner.

Of course, I didn't really win because I was the loser who still had a speech to come up with. Boo.

I grinned, but then sighed in defeat. 'So basically what you're saying is . . . you have no way of helping me with my problem,' I drawled.

'Sorry,' Paul said sarcastically, unforgiving of that crack I'd made before..

Rolling onto my side, I groaned. 'What time is it, anyway?'

'Eight,' Paul replied.

'Somehow this conversation is getting all déjà vu-y,' I mumbled. 'Okay, Mr. Slater. Are you done with me yet? Can we go and get ready for the reunion now?'

'Want to have a quick . . . re-union of our own before we go?' Paul asked me roguishly, leaning over to kiss my neck with unbearable skill. I cringed from the ticklish thrills, smiling with embarrassment on his behalf.

'No,' I said pointedly, through a mouthful of smiles, 'And might I remind you, corn is my least favourite vegetable.'

'That wasn't corny,' he argued defensively. 'It was a witty pun on my part.'

'Kelly Prescott's blond highlights have more wit,' I informed him triumphantly.

However, he wasn't letting me escape without the session of kissing that soared from gentle to somewhat hardcore. By the time I crawled from the bed, I ached pleasantly.

'You are no help,' I teased as I searched the ground for my shirt. 'I haven't practiced my speech yet. I haven't even DONE my speech yet. Kelly has probably had hers since the night of graduation.'

'Not the night of graduation. She was out getting drunk at some after party,' Paul pointed out.

'Hell, it would still be a better speech than mine no matter what state she was in when she wrote it.'

Paul, who was stretched out on the bed in a lazy-yet seductive way, smirked.

'You can always practice on me, Simon.'

I found my shirt and threw it at him, where it landed gracefully on his face. He peeled it from his face and moved to sit at the edge of the bed.

'No, I'm serious,' he said. 'I'll let you practice your speech on me. If having a good speech is important to you, then it is important to me.'

Five years ago, I would have never described Paul as sincere. Self absorbed, maybe, but never so genuine. I couldn't help but smile to myself. However cheesy what he just said sounded, I knew that he really meant it.

One, two, three…AWWW!

I began pacing around the motel room a bit, thinking of where to begin. I mean, I'm not the most articulate person in the entire world. In fact, I usually avoided public speaking altogether. Had it not been required, I probably wouldn't have taken speech class in school either. It just wasn't my thing.

'Wow, guys,' I began sheepishly, 'has it really been five years? I mean, I remember high school like it was just yesterday…'

'Simon, you might want to put your shirt on. It's a little distracting,' Paul cut in, holding out my shirt. Embarrassed, I took the shirt from him and slipped it over my head and then resumed my pacing.

I began again. 'This school brings back such fond memories. Old relationships, old friends, good times, favorite teachers, our triumphs-'

'I liked it better when you had your shirt off,' Paul interjected again with a yawn.

'Not helping, Paul,' I groaned. I shot him a dirty scowl and flopped next to him on the bed.

'I'm sorry,' Paul apologized, 'but that sounds really dull. You know, like you bull-shitted the whole thing mere hours before the reunion.'

'I did bull-shit this only hours before the reunion,' I pointed out to him.

'What your speech lacks is substance. Put some emotion into it, Suze. Don't be afraid to be honest. Don't fake it because this is your chance to say to these people things you kept inside for five years. Five freaking years, Simon! We all know what happens when you hide your feelings for long periods of time.'

I smiled but kept my mouth shut. You know, having wild-hot sex with Paul Slater wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but he is right. That would have never happened if he and I never confessed how we felt.

'I think I can do this,' I resolved after pondering it for a moment to myself. 'How about…'

'Um, Suze,' Paul interrupted once more, 'maybe we can continue this later? It's eight thirty and we have to check out, go home, and get ready to make it to the school by ten thirty. Father Dominic wanted us to help him set up, remember?'

With a time frame like that, I'd never get the speech done by eleven thirty, which was the approximate time I'd be giving my speech, according to the itinerary. In short, I was screwed.

Paul, seeing my worried expression, took my hand and consoled me by saying, 'Don't worry about it, Suze. It's just a speech. If you don't get it right this time, there's always the ten year reunion.'

'Way to be optimistic, Paul,' I replied sarcastically.

'I'll still love you no matter how crappy your speech turns out-'

I shot him a killer warning glare, and his hands shot up in surrender before I could kick him.

What a supportive boyfriend I've got, right?

'I'm kidding,' Paul said apologetically. 'Well, for all of it except the loving you part. And that I'm dead serious about.'

I smiled, moving closer to him, and said, 'Fine, you are forgiven.'

I started kissing him rather passionately, in a way I would hope was distracting.

'Let's just…stay here. Skip the reunion. Like you said earlier, there's always the ten year…'

'Nice try, Simon,' Paul drawled, 'but we're going to be late. Come on.'

Damn it. What happened to all the horniness earlier? Why must my boyfriend have to be timely?

We both put on our clothes- the same ones from last night- and checked out of the motel in record time. We rushed over to Paul's mansion of glass, and after being questioned a bit by little Jack ('Aren't those the same clothes you wore last night?'), we began to get ready.

- 8 -

YES. YES, THIS CHAPTER WAS DISGUSTINGLY SHORT, WE KNOW. Hate us, kill us, slay us… we are sorry, but Hayley's busy and Lolly has issues, but the next part of this chapter will be out –

…We can't even promise that, actually. But we will try, I swear. We are SO sorry for the wait. We've had a LOT of trouble writing.

Lolly (and Hayley.)