A/N: Err, this is a chapter. And it's a fourth one. There's really not much to say about it other than that...it's short and pointless.

But please, read it, and critique or whatever.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Absolutely nothing. Meg Cabot owns this. So please, don't sue, as I obviously am not her.

Chapter 4

I felt him give in.

It hadn't taken much, just one light kiss…which was kind of ego boosting, you know? That a guy like Jesse (okay, granted he was dead so his options were a bit limited) would like being kissed by me that much.

And it certainly wasn't like I didn't like being kissed by him…

I ran my hands through his thick hair, and realized that had someone walked in, they would have found me in a compromising position.

To the non-mediator point of view, I was kissing air with one leg wrapped around something invisible.

If Brad found me like this, I'd never live it down.

I thanked God that my door was locked.

I ran a hand over the hard wall of his chest, liking the way I could feel the ridges of his abs through the thin material of his shirt.

I felt his hand start to run itself along the waistline of my Levi's and knew that he'd end it soon.

Because, you know, he's Jesse.

And what we were doing wouldn't exactly be considered proper.

I was right. My love life is a tragedy.

Only, unlike Juliet, I didn't have to marry a guy named Paris.

It would sound like I was marrying a country.

Did they have those back then? Countries, I mean. Probably not.

Why was I thinking this when Jesse's kissing me? Why was I thinking anything at all?

I could feel those fireworks exploding in my stomach, right on schedule, and was really, really beginning to like Shakespeare even more than the last time we…ahem, 'studied'.

Much to my chagrin, Jesse tore his lips away from mine and sat up, breathing really hard considering the fact that he didn't have too.

"Su—Su—Susann—Susannah, we shouldn't, I mean, it isn't proper—to be, doing that—not right…"

I have to state, for the record, that I was a little woozy from all the kissing, and shouldn't have been held responsible for my actions. Furthermore, if you were being kissed like that (quite thoroughly and amazingly) you wouldn't want to stop either.

Especially if the guy doing the kissing happens to be the man of your dreams.

So, the fact that I said, "What's not proper?" and dragged his head back down to mine really wasn't my fault, in the scheme of things.

It was hormones.

When in doubt blame those.

Hee hee.

Only, he didn't let me kiss him for long.

He pulled back, much more sober this time, and said, "I think, that we have done quite enough of that for one day."

For one day?

Does that mean we get to do that again tomorrow?

I was still a little bit fuzzy around the edges—if you get what I mean—and just was like, "Sure, okay.

I saw him start to shimmer and immediately snapped out of my hazy state.

"You," I said, grabbing onto his shirt, "are not going anywhere Mr."

He looked shocked, but didn't say anything.

"Why do you keep pulling this disappearing crap on me? It's not helpful, or healthy for this relationship, don't you think?"

He just kind of blinked at me, looking like a poster someone would hang on their wall.

I looked like a before shot on Nip/Tuck.

"Susannah, don't use such vulgar language, it's not proper."

"Jesse," I said, trying not to laugh, "what we did a few minutes ago isn't necessarily considered 'proper'" yes, I made the finger moves, "either."

He turned bright red, and I really had to hold back laughter.

It was so funny, like a six foot four inch red thing.

With black hair.

But that was a technicality.

I tugged at the hem of my t-shirt which read, "A day without SUNSHINE is like, you know, NIGHT."

"Yes, but it was a mis—," he stopped, and his eyes went really, really wide.

He did not.

He soooo did not.

He soooo did.

"A what? A mistake?" I am very sorry to say, that my voice took on high sqeeky sounds.

"That's what that was to you! A mistake?"

He immeadiately tried to cover up, "I didn't mean you were a mistake, but kissing you was a mistake."

He stopped, seeming to realize he'd only dug himself deeper.

"Oh," I sneered, trying not to cry, "well, at least I'm not a mistake."

"I'm a crappy kisser aren't I?"

He looked at me, kind of startled. I wasn't mad for the moment, upset and annoyed, but not mad necessarily.

"It's really that bad to kiss me?" I started to blabber, really trying not to cry, "but I can't be that bad, because you know, Paul doesn't seem to mind doing that. Kissing me, I mean. And he's done it a hell of a lot more than you have," so this wasn't really true, but no one had to know that, "maybe he just has lower standar—," he didn't let me finish.

"HE DID WHAT?"

I kid you not, his voice echoed off my walls, he was screaming so loud.

"HE'S KISSED YOU MULTIPLE TIMES?"

Dude, jealous much?

"Get over yourself Jesse, it's not like you seem to care."

"I CARE VERY MUCH THANK YOU. IT'S NOT PROPER FOR YOUNG LADIES…ESPECIALLY THAT BASTARDO…."

"Could you please stop yelling?"

He was all worked up, and I must say, he looks sexy when he's mad.

Very sexy.

I should annoy him more often.

Although he could ixnay on the yelling.

"I CAN NOT BELIEVE THAT YOU DID THAT, WITH, WITH, WITH SOMEONE WHO WASN'T M…SOMEONE LIKE HIM!"

Was he going to say what I think he was going to say?

Oh. Woah.

No…that would be too good.

Wouldn't it?

He started to dematerialize again.

I grabbed him and he stopped.

Lovely. Back to square one.

A/N: I know, it's short, but I have major writers block, and I really wanted to get SOMETHING up. Even something short and crappy.

Please review. Even if it's just, "you're right. That chapter did suck."

Although, obviously, I would like a nice review.

I'm not that picky, though….