I am sooo sorry that this update took an obnoxiously long time. School has been absolute hll on wheels this years. The idiots on the administration decided the high school should be run by 'small schools' and ever since they implented this idea my education has gone to the dogs.

But moving on, this chapter is dedicated to The Cee Factor and mean-girl123 for sending some very encouraging words and motivating me to write this chapter. It's in Jesse's POV first, then Paul's. We finally get to see what the guys think of this predicament.

Disclaimer: Not Meg Cabot, I live where the snow is :) We just got eight inches and a snow day!

(Jesse POV)

Where does one go when their heart has been broken?

For a ghost, the answers are infinite. I could go anywhere, anywhere at all on this plane or the spiritual one. I could go to Egypt, Mexico, Spain, or this tropical Hawaii Susannah has often spoke off. But I cannot seem to pull myself from this seat.

This simple window seat built for a young girl with a perfect view of the majestic ocean is the only place I can find solace. One hundred and fifty years ago I thought I had felt the worst shame imaginable. At this time a woman had sought to scorn my name and family. She was to be my wife, and she was having relations with another man.

Maria might have been beautiful, strong willed, and proper. But I did not love her. I felt no shard of attraction to her. Her characteristics did nothing to enchant me. The few times I saw her we were allowed only minimal conversation. I knew nothing of the type of person she was, or her feelings for me.

I thought, in my much mistaken heart, that Susannah had true feelings for me. The kiss in her room had meant so much. The feel of her lips on mine, the taste of her breath, had been exhilarating. But it wasn't real. I couldn't feel her warmth, nor could I give off any for her to feel. It wasn't her breath down my throat, but my mind's imagination of what that would feel like.

I can never give her what she truly wants. What she deserves.

Which is why seeing her with Paul Slater at his house – on his bed – hurt me so badly. Slater is one the most manipulative and obnoxious people I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. I hate him with every bone in my body. His self-absorbed attitude is not the way a man should conduct himself.

That is why it kills me to know that he can give Susannah everything I cannot. That such an undeserving boy can receive what I can only dream of. Seeing his lips on her perfect face, his hand on her body – in places no hands should be – and knowing that Susannah wanted it, that she liked it, tore me in two.

I saw you there last night
Standing in the dark
You were acting so in love
With your hand upon his heart

I had watched her get ready – leaving her to dress in the bathroom of course - the morning before her elections speech. She was so nervous, her hand shaking as she brushed her hair. I stayed out of her way, not wanting distract her. She left the house looking just as beautiful as always.

I was in the auditorium when she gave her speech. It started out a little rocky, but she quickly found her stride and gave the most persuasive campaign oration I'd ever heard. She had the greatest amount of will power I'd ever seen in anyone. Her ability to drive herself toward a goal – whether it be mediating a particularly violent ghost, or winning student body president for her junior class - Susannah always tried her hardest to succeed.

She didn't notice me standing in the back of the auditorium. Father Dominic did once, sending me a questioning, if nervous glance. He knew how I felt for Susannah, and like me, he knew I could never make her aware of these feelings. Although, kissing her had probably given some of my secrets away.

When the school day was finished I had waited for her to come home. But when she was late I assumed she had gone out with her friends CeeCee and Adam – Adam, now there's a respectable man…a little strange but he would never find himself ranked next to Slater.

However, when Susannah was still not home an hour later I couldn't wait any longer to congratulate her. I focused hard on her face, her voice, her aura, and materialized to her. I had always been able to do this. I do not need Susannah to call me for me to go to her. But I like to allow her privacy and never before wanted to intrude.

When I found myself at Slater's house I was confused. I had followed him home several times in the past after I learned he was back in Carmel. But I never expected to find Susannah here. I never expected to find him on top of Susannah, with Susannah's hands under his shirt and her lips on his and his…hands on her.

But you were just friends
At least that's what you said
Now I know better from his fingers in your hair
I'll forgive you for what you've done
If you say that I'm the one

Shock is the first thing that came to mind. I was sure for a few split seconds that I was at the wrong house. That this was not Susannah, my querida. She would never do something like this. She would never allow a man to touch her this way, to take advantage of her in such a vulgar way.

But my eyes cold not erase the sight they saw. And I could not deny the happiness on Susannah's face – the limited amount of it that I could see with Slater was effectively blocking my view. She was happy with him; she was receiving the attention she wanted. Whatever his motives were – and I'm sure they were less than respectable – Slater was giving Susannah what I could not.

The fact that neither of them noticed me either also added to insult to injury. Susannah had always noticed me. She had always been looking for me. But like so many others, she had forgotten about me.

I left the house shortly after that. I wandered around aimlessly for hours. Susannah was no longer mine. She had never been mine. I had never owned her. It is impossible for any man to own a woman.

But her heart could not have been farther from mine. Any wishes, foolish dreams I may have had about her and me were gone. She didn't want me, didn't need me. And instead of telling me this, instead of explaining her feelings for Slater, she simply left me on the curb.

Susannah is the only girl I have ever felt for. I've been lucky, very lucky, to have her light in the darkness of my damned world. She gave me a reason to…be. I am not alive, but with her, my existence was not so horrid. I did not hate the powers and wicked irony of my God for keeping here for so long.

With Susannah, there was meaning. And now she is gone.

I've had other options too
But all I want is you
Girl, your body fits me like a glove
And you showered me with words of love

What do I do now? My heart is broken. The woman I love has feelings for a man who is not I. Irony again, Maria would find this hilarious. I was not meant to be in this world. My existence over the past one hundred and fifty years has been a mistake. I do not belong here.

And I do not belong with Susannah.

While you were just friends
At least that's what you said
Now I know better from his fingers in your hair
I'll forgive you for what you've done
If you say that I'm the one

Slowly I felt anger erupt inside of me. Everything we have done together, all the times I saved her life, all the times she saved mine – or what was left of it – and all the conversations we'd had, the jokes we had shared. How could she just forsake all that and run to him – to Slater! – without even once thinking of me?

Did not think I would find out? Would she have told me if I didn't? Did she plan on lying to me? I thought she cared – at least enough to realize what would hurt me. Why didn't she just tell me? If she told me first, or if she told me at all, maybe I would be able to… No, I wouldn't be able to forget it.

In my rage the mirror on her wall shook so violently that it broke. After all this time, I finally did it. I broke the mirror. The glass shards flew out all over her floor, sending streaks of reflected light to her ceiling. Jagged edges and pointed fragments slowed to halt after sliding across her floor.

It's not my style to lay it on the line
But you don't leave me with a choice this time
Why weren't you true
You know I, I trusted you

The disaster of my life, the living and the hereafter, displayed in full glory for everyone to see. But no one was watching. No one saw me, no one cared. This mirror never reflected me. Because I wasn't there. I don't exist. I'm not real.

And she is.

Was there ever a chance for us?

When you were just friends
At least that's what you said
Now I know better from his fingers in your hair
I'll forgive you for what you've done
If you say that I'm the one
You were just friends
Now I know better from his fingers in your hair
I'll forgive you for what you've done
If you say that I'm the one
I'll forgive you for what you've done
If you say that I'm the one
I'll forgive you for what you've done
If you say that I'm the one
I'll forgive you

(Paul POV)

Holy shit.

I slumped up the stairs of my house, heading for the bathroom. All the while my vision was swimming in front of me. The walls were fuzzy, the stairs elevating at flocculating levels. Twice I had to grab the railing as I started to tip backwards. When I finally reached the top landing I paused to take a breather. Jesus my head was pounding!

I brought a hand to the side of my jaw, tenderly touching the wound there, which was now covered in heavy bandages. Three hours in the emergency room – half of which I spent sitting next to Sister Ernestine in the waiting room, she actually volunteered to escort me to the hospital! – and I come home feeling worse than I did when I arrived.

Bras knuckles!

Who the fk uses brass knuckles? I didn't know they even made those anymore! Of course I didn't tell Father Dominic or the school nurse that brass knuckles were involved – I just told them I fell and hit my face on the asphalt.

I also left out the part where the brass knuckles were attached to Suze's fist. But the heavy blood flow and my impaired speech had been enough for a trip down to the ER. Three x-rays and five stitches later I was stumbling home, drooling out the sides of my mouth because half my face was numb from anesthetics.

I staggered to the bathroom, throwing a hand up to hit the light switch. Supporting myself with each hand on either side of the counter I took a moment to collect my thoughts. A girl I spent an hour making out with two days ago had just assaulted me. She had mauled my – flawless – face and caused my doctor to subscribe pain medication because he claimed 'eating will be difficult for sometime'.

With reluctance I raised my head to the mirror.

Oh my fking God!

I looked horrible. I am aware that most people assume I am a very conceited person who values looks before almost anything. Now ladies, this is not true. I don't obsess over my looks because I don't have to. I know I look good. But in times of great stress when there has been an unjust act of violence that has caused my face to be disfigured temporarily – it sure as hell better be temporary – I am allowed to become slightly arrogant and dramatic.

Begin very un-Paul like behavior.

My beautiful face! My lovely sculpted jaw! It's black! Black and blue and gooey and gross and covered in a very unattractive white bandage that is now spotting blots of red. I'll never be able to pose for a picture while looking to my left again! And that was my BEST side!

End very un-Paul like behavior.

Deep breaths, Paul, deep breaths. It didn't help that my reflection was fuzzy on the edges, swaying back and forth as my footing was unbalanced. The doctor had injected something near the cut, then given me a pill, saying that was today's first dose of whatever pain relief I was on and that I should take another pill later tonight.

Whatever this medication was, it was making me pretty damn woozy. Everything was spinning. I felt sick, I wanted to drink some water but I could barely open my mouth. There was a throbbing that extended to all parts of my head. I'd been in fights before, I'd been hit before – before Suze it was Jesse's assault on my nose – but this was the worse by far.

I grabbed a face cloth, soaking it in cool water from the faucet then ringing it out so it was damp. With both hands splayed across the wall for support, I made my way to my room. It was slow going and I barely navigated through the door without whacking myself into the frame.

Once inside I fell on to the bed. The horizontal position calmed my vertigo slightly, but I closed my eyes to rid the sight of my ceiling orbiting around the center light. I blindly placed the damp rag on forehead, hoping it might calm my nerves.

After a short pause where I spaced out, slowly feeling the pain diminishing to something bearable I reached down and pulled off my shoes. These sheets were three-hundred thread count cotton percale!

Finally, with nothing to hold me back, I let my mind drift to the thing that was causing me the most pain. The reason for the slight throb of my heart, which had nothing to do with jaw my wound - seeing as they aren't exactly near each other.

Suze.

Why? Why did she do this to me? She's gotten mad before, but I can handle a finger in my eye, and slap on the cheek. This was much worse. This was serious bodily harm. What drove her to do it? Did I say something? Nothing I hadn't said before. How did she go from willingly – and quite happily – sticking her tongue down my throat to shoving her fist through my face?

Well, okay she didn't shove her fist through my face – if she did then I'd be going through traumatic shock right about now.

I just don't understand. Two days ago, not even, we were sitting on this bed, happy, and finally giving into what we'd both always wanted. I know she wanted it too. She can't hide from me, not when she looks at me the way she does when she doesn't think I'm looking. Not when she responds to my kisses the way she does.

The way she did.

God that day was so…great. Feeling her give in to me, finally – FINALLY – being with her – without forcing her – and seeing her smile because of me. It was ecstasy. It was the best feeling I have ever felt. I'll gladly admit it. I am completely infatuated by this girl. My energy, mind, and will all goes into her.

To say that what I feel for Suze isn't real is just bullshit.

But then of course, there is…that other guy. The name I can't even bring myself to think inside my own head. In most cases, I'm against cheating. I know that might be hard to believe, that Paul Slater would abide by any male conduct code, but it's true. I would never play around with a girl if I knew she was going out with another guy – unless she came on to me. But Suze would never come on to me. It just doesn't count with Jesse. He's dead. He's not alive. He shouldn't be here. He doesn't technically exist.

Therefore, I have no problem making out with his 'querida'.

Why does Suze insist on being with him? It's not like she's with him-with him. I mean, there's no way in hell that Mr. Nineteenth Century is gonna get down and dirty with Suze sans clothing anytime soon. If he ever does I'll fking kill him. He can't give her what she wants. Heck, he can't even give her a cup of coffee.

I can. And I can her give her what she needs.

She needs someone corporeal, and someone who isn't too chicken to give her the physical pleasure she's too shy to ask for but more than willing to receive. I know what makes her sweat. I know how much she loves to have her bare skin slowly caressed. And I know how insecure she is. Under the 'bad ass' image she likes to portray Suze is a very vulnerable person who just has a hard time trusting people.

The only reason she can't seem to trust me is because…because she met Jesse first. My mind wanders to a place it has gone many times before. The 'what if' scenario where Suze met me first. Somehow, someway, if I could have met her before Jesse I know she would be with me now. And I'd be able to hold her, and kiss her, and talk to her whenever I want. I could tell her everything I'd ever felt about her, and I could protect her.

Protect her from throwing her life away for him.

She doesn't deserve to waste her life with someone who will never love her. Never love her the way I do. Why doesn't she get that? Why doesn't she understand that I would give her everything – everything I could – if she just let me? I'm the guy for her. I'm real and I'm here and I'm offering everything her body wants.

She just can't seem to accept that it's what her heart wants too.

Trying to pull myself back to the present I moved the cloth from my forehead to my cover my eyes. The light that was still blaring in from the sunset acted on my headache, I needed complete darkness if I were to sleep. And sleep was what I needed. Right now, I just need to stop thinking.

When I woke up it was nearly dark. There were a few golden rays left in the sky, giving off a light tint that was still enough to see by. I could hear the TV down the hall, where Pops was watching prime-time game show marathon. I slowly pulled myself up off the bed. My head was straight now, no dizziness, but my jaw hurt like a btch. Apparently it was time to take those friendly little pills again.

I walked over to my desk without having to grab anything for support. At least this was an improvement. Picking up a bottle of water from its abandoned spot on the counter, I swallowed the prescribed amount of pills and ran a hand through my hair. I needed a shower, if the limp locks of sandy gold were any indication.

But, as disgusting as it was, I couldn't shower tonight – the bandages had to stay dry for twenty-four hours before I could redress the cut and bathe. Yes, I voiced my concerns of hygiene with the resident who stitched me up. But he didn't seem too interested in changing his instructions.

I looked at the clock reading 8:35. I couldn't go back to sleep now, just after a nap. I wasn't hungry – plus I don't think chewing is something I should attempt to accomplish until at least tomorrow. I turned to my window, looking at the ocean, as it turned from sea-blue to gold in the last rays of daytime. The endless, naked beach – naked as in the there were no people, not people that were naked, unfortunately – stretched clean and barren until the jetty blocked my sight.

Standing there I became slightly entranced by the hypnotizing movement of the waves. Until I saw someone running on the beach. A figure I knew too well not to identify instantly. From this distance I couldn't be sure, but it looked like she was crying. Her steps were uneven, guiding her in crooked paths as she stumbled forward. When she finally fell I stood there staring.

I remembered the way she looked earlier today – tired, dirty, and broken. Her lip was sporting a deep cut that I tried to avoid tenderly when I kissed her. Her whole face was streaked with tears. Then when she cut her hand…she was a mess. How could she let Jesse do that to her? She was stronger than that.

But still my heart had swelled when I saw her. I just meant to go for a walk during third period – pre-cal, who needs it? – but finding Suze was like finding a present left over from Christmas. I didn't care if she was covered in dirt and bawling her eyes out, I was just happy to see her. Not so happy after she punched me, though.

Looking back down at the beach, I contemplated quietly.

She couldn't see me, but I could see her. What do I do now? Go to her? And comfort her while risking another physical – and emotional – injury. Or should I ignore her, the way she's constantly ignored me until just a few days ago? Do I really mean nothing to her? Was I wrong, did she feel nothing when I kissed her, when she kissed me back?

Is there any chance for us?

Ooo, what will Paul do? Will he go to her, help her? Or just let her feel the pain he's been feeling for so long...?

Please review! I'll try my very hardest to update soon! Happy Holidays!