Disclaimer: Do you see me saying I'm Meg Cabot?
A/N: OK, my minions of doom, i am going to Italy with my friend for 5 days, so i may be unable to update soon, as i am also going to Cornwall with my family - shudders - BUT, i will actually be writing down my next chapters in my new best friend - my huge gigantic A4 kick ass notebook. so do not fear.
Can i just tell you the FUNNIEST thing that happened to me? I was out shopping in Gap, and ages ago i bought some boxers there that were green with little sheepies on them. So i was in Gap with a loada frends and this mum was making her son take off his top and try on something in the middle of the store - cause enough for me to laugh. So the guy pulls his top up and flashes us a bit of flesh. His boxers are pulled up way above the waistband of his low-riding jeans and what do i see? MY BOXERS. he was wearing my green with sheepies boxers.
Needless to say i pointed at him, screamed "MY BOXERS! YOU'RE WEARING MY BOXERS!", then laughed hysterically.
SweetestReject: Aw, i'm glad you liked my last chappie. I hope you enjoy this one, too.
Nice Hayley: You don't need to go to an institution for laughing at your computer screen, my dear. You're just naturally certifiable. Through no fault of your own, I'm sure. You're just plain, plum crazy! But then, aren't we all? No. It's just you nice Hayley.
Brittany: A strong Suze-Paul fan, eh? Shocking. But totally acceptable. Who said anything about Suze ending up in his strong arms? And I'm not saying she's gonna end up in Jesse's either. Wouldn't it be funny if a NEW guy came along? Or, perhaps, Suze discovers she's a lesbian? Ew. No. There is no way i could write that. At least, not while keeping a straight face. (No offence any lesbos out there, I am totally for gay relationships. It's just not for me. You know. But hey, whatever floats your boat!)
UnangelicHalo: You won't stop reviewing. Empty threats. You talk the talk, but you don;t walk the walk... Wait a minute! Keep that mouse away from the X in the corner! DON'T YO DARE CLOSE THIS SCREEN!!! DON'T YOU--
Allimba: Wow, another weird name. Seriously, do i give out this message that says, "Come, odd named little people, come and review my story..."? I am, however, glad you are enjoying all the lusting and the loving that is going on.
Naomi: Hello! Bout time you reviewed!!!! (and i'm glad you are enjoying, thank you for your support!! although, yo should totally write your own stuff on here, you know you would rock at it)
Enelya Tinuviel: Now THAT is a complicated name. Do you guys all go to a complicated name convention? If so, can i join?
I sat in my daze for the rest of the lesson and wandered round in the same condition for the rest of the day. All I could think was that Paul could control my dreams.
How?
As far as I knew, ghosts couldn't enter my dreams of their own accord, they had to be, well...dreamed up. Did it have something to with, then, the fact that Paul was a shifter? In which case, does that mean he can appear in my dreams when fully...capacitated? I mean, if he could, then maybe I could too...?
All these thoughts contributed to my zombie-like state and, when I got home and had grabbed a snack of an apple and diet coke, I sat on my bed and tried shaking the thoughts and questions out of my head.
Literally.
I sat cross-legged and shook my head violently. No such luck. I opened my coke and took a long, deep draw. You can't beat a coke to cool your nerves. Or give you a sugar buzz.
Can you believe they used to actually put real coke – as in cocaine – in coca-cola? Back in the old days, I mean. Seriously. Obviously it was banned. All these doped up people wandering round with bloodshot eyes and paranoia... must've been quite cool, come to think of it.
Not that I was into drugs. Oh no, no, no. I've had enough just-say-no lectures to last me a lifetime and to get the message firmly in my head that DRUGS ARE BAD. Yeah, like I hadn't already figured that out by living in New York and watching late-night bust-'em-up cop shows. No way would I want my face on one of those shows, with my skin pale and my eyes all gross and red. I think I'll stick to toothpaste adverts, thank you very much. So no snorting Charlie for me, no nose candy to lighten my senses.
Although, with a profession like mine, you'd think I'd deserve some kind of relief like that.
There was a dip on the space of bed beside me. Turning my head, I saw it was Jesse.
"Buenos días, querida," he greeted cheerfully. I smiled weakly and, turning my head back to staring at the wall, took another gulp out of my can.
"Is something wrong, Susannah?" Jesse's concern brought me reluctantly back to reality.
"Just thinking," I said. I could sense a frown appearing on Jesse's forehead.
"About what?"
I shrugged. I couldn't exactly tell him about my dreams. "This new ghost appeared today..." I trailed off when my snack – the apple – drifted across my line of vision. "Jesse, is that you doing that?" Immediately images of Paul snapped into my head.
"No, it is not I doing that," Jesse said. Then he added, "I do not perform parlour tricks."
"Sure you do. Paul, if that's you then quit it. You've been a big enough pain in the ass, I would like a little relief at home, if it's not too much to ask." I waited in anticipation for Paul to appear.
Instead I heard a tiny giggle and the little girl I had encountered earlier that day appeared.
"Hello," she said chirpily. She handed me the apple. Her gaze fell on Jesse and she turned to me with an adorable pucker on her brow. "I thought that other man was your husband. My daddy."
She was standing at the foot of the bed looking from Jesse to me as we sat on it, staring back at her.
"I don't have a husband. And-" I had no idea how to put this gently "-I'm afraid you're not my daughter."
She frowned at me harder then looked at the floor. "Oh," she whispered. She gave a sniffle. "I'm scared..." Her voice was so soft and tiny it was more of an exhalation of breath. But I heard.
I leapt off the bed and crouched next to her, taking her delicate hands in mine. She looked through her fringe at me, her enchanting eyes were brimmed with tears.
"Don't be scared," I said in what I hoped was a reassuring voice – one I don't use often. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm here to help you."
I could feel Jesse's eyes trained intently on me. I nodded towards him. "He's going to help you too. He may look tough, but he's a softy inside. Like a kitten."
Jesse was anything but a kitten. When I first met him, I had instantly classed him as dangerous. Even with his scar being the result of a less than heroic (and slightly disappointing, I might add) dog bite, he still had the look of someone you didn't want to upset. With his dark, opaque eyes that, when he wanted, could reveal no emotion and act like mirrors. And his size and well-toned body didn't do anything to deter the image of danger, either.
All this aside, though. Jesse was a softy. He was kind, considerate, and thoughtful. He showed the utmost etiquette and politeness towards everyone who deserved it, and he always showed heartfelt emotion, whether it was concern or love.
Especially love.
That didn't make him a kitten. Jesse never purred, for one thing. And believe me, I had tried my best to get him purring. He was actually more of a fox. When he was happy, he got kinda sly and playful. You could tell he was happy, but boy. He always put my happiness before his, if you get what I mean.
The little girl leaned towards me, hands still captured in mine. "He looks like a pirate," she whispered fearfully, with wide eyes.
I laughed and Jesse bristled.
"Think of him as a cowboy," Jesse bristled even more and I hid a smirk. "Cowboys are nice. They rescue people. Especially pretty little ladies like you." I tapped her nose and she wrinkled it and smiled.
Most of the time, my spectral buddies are mad, bad, and generally not someone I want to scoop up in my arms and squeeze possessively. They were never cute and small and innocent. They were usually big and mean and oh-so un-innocent.
And don't get me wrong, I like kids. Most of the time. Well, okay. Rarely. Like when I had to babysit at Pebble Beach Resort. That was kinda like hell for me. But I do occasionally stumble across a kid that I think is cute and wouldn't mind taking home in my pocket. And I want a family of my own, one day.
But this little girl was the most delightful, delectable thing I had ever come across.
"Will he help you take care of me?" She said with a shy glance towards Jesse, her voice was so small and hopeful it was like a delicate butterfly escaping from a dark place. I couldn't get over how adorable this little ghost was.
"You better believe it." She turned her head to look at him and – I almost died of shock – Jesse winked at her! The girl giggled and buried her head in my shoulder.
I stared at Jesse in bemusement. He just grinned back at me.
Ever the ladies man. No woman would ever be able to resist him and his charm. And I should know.
The girl retrieved her face from me Ralph Lauren sweater set and said, "My name's Bethany. What's your name?"
"I'm Suze. And he's Jesse." Bethany nodded then reached out her hand to touch my hair.
Then she disappeared.
I sighed. I mean, how do you tell a six year old she's croaked? And why does she think I'm her mom? I stood up and took a preoccupied bite of my apple.
"She seemed nice," said a voice from my bed.
"Yeah. I wonder what she wants. And how she died." I plonked my butt next to Jesse and looked at him. He seemed like he was in a good mood.
His eyes had the colour, texture, and warmth of melted chocolate and they were sparkling with delight. It seemed as if a smile was stuck on his gorgeous lips and no matter how hard he might try, it would never fade.
Not that he seemed to mind. Or me, for that matter.
Well, I could think of a few things that would wipe that smile off, though. Like telling him about my dreams, for instance.
But I wasn't going to be doing that anytime soon. Preferably, never.
It was just so nice – him smiling. Whenever I saw that smile, or those eyes filled with a certain je ne sais quoi, my heart skipped a beat and then sped up uncontrollably. And then, suddenly, I find a smile spreading irresistibly like warm butter across my face. And he seemed to glow more. Brighter and warmer, when he was happy.
Or maybe that was just the light dimming outside.
Proof of my superhuman powers: the fact that I wasn't leaping at him and clinging to him like a baby koala clings to its mother, and never letting go. Having to go to Mass and a Catholic school contributed somewhat, too.
Instead, I just sat there and grinned at him, taking in his broad shoulders, noticeable biceps, deeply ridged abs, and long muscular thighs... And his face wasn't bad either.
Understatement.
Jesse shuffled closer to me on the bed. "What are you so happy about, querida?"
"I could ask you the same thing, señor de Silva," I grinned back at him.
His smile grew. "Sí, señorita?" The way he said that señorita – in a deep, low rumble that resonated masculinity – sent shivers of pleasure across my skin like one of those water-ski insects that skim across lakes in summer. And then, if his ploy in capturing my heart and soul wasn't complete enough and rendering me into nothing but I pile of feminine Jell-O, he bent closer to me – so close his mouth brushed against my ear and his breath whispered against my skin –, his concentration solely on me, and he murmured some Spanish vernacular in my ear.
My brain may not have understood – though in its state at that moment, even if Jesse had been speaking slow, plain English I still wouldn't have comprehended it seeing as my brain seemed to have taken a paid leave to go to the Bahamas – but my body sure did. At least, judging by the way it was reacting.
My breath was short and my eyes were slowly closing...
"I hope you're not saying anything I wouldn't like," I managed to mutter through a haze of bliss.
Jesse pulled away and my eyes drifted reluctantly open to look into his. They flashed at me and he grinned wickedly.
"Oh no," he beamed, "I am sure you'd like it." My breath caught and he leaned in, his lips floating closer to mine.
Sometimes, I think my life is great. This would be one of those times. No big bad ghoulies to ruin this. Just me and Jesse. My life could be a movie. I bet I could actually make a lot of money from it. I mean, it's not like anyone would suspect it was real. They'd just read the script and think, Wow, this gal's got some imagination. Then they'll bring down their puffing cigars and lean back in their chairs. A whole table of large suits, assessing me. And they'd say, You're gonna be big, baby. Larger than life!
And then I'd be rolling in money.
Yeah. Right. Like that's ever gonna happen.
I think I'll stick to enjoying the moment as it is in the present. And right now, I've got a lot to enjoy. Especially with Jesse's lips, locked on mine.
It was amazing to think, only a few months ago, Jesse was conservative, gentlemanly (not that he still wasn't) and usually refrained from any physical contact with me. And he was never this playful or frisky or teasing...
Not that I'm complaining.
I liked to think it was because I had come into his life. That I had influenced him and modernised him with my dazzling Metro-girl personality. You can't deny that I am on top of my era, almost ahead of it. I know everything there is to know about the latest Kate Spade designs, and Mr Choo's latest revelations in what looks hot in the world of footwear.
What I really think is that Jesse's been waiting for one hundred and fifty years to relinquish this passion and care in his personality, and I was the key to that locked door.
I settled myself onto my bed, lowering myself to a lying position under the force of Jesse's lips. Not that it was forceful hard. But I was practically swooning under the power of the kiss – no change there, then – and I didn't think I would b able to stay upright for much longer.
Not that Jesse seemed to mind. My swooning, I mean. He lowered himself with me, never breaking our kiss. We've had quite a few of these kinds of kisses and fumbles ever since we realised we were both in love with each other and managed to – in a less than dignified and organised manner – become conscious of the fact that our love was reciprocated by each other...
Complicated, I know.
I tell you what, though. For a guy who came from an age where you weren't even allowed to snog your husband or wife unless it was strictly business – ie. making babies –, he sure knew a thing or two about the sinful act. Snogging, not making babies. Sheesh, I'm not that kinda girl, alright?
Another reason I reckon Jesse's so...enthusiastic all of a sudden. In a good way, of course. No protests coming from this corner of the boat! But Jesse's like this because I'm fresh. I'm new.
We've always known I was unique, and I'm not talking about my mediating thing, here. I am, of course, referring to my personality. I'm modern, and that's different for Jesse. I have liberated him from the bureaucracy of nineteenth century etiquette.
God. I hope that's not the only reason Jesse's in love with me. If he even is. What if he only kissed me because I'm the only chance he'll get at getting-
No. That is not it. That is so not it. If it was, would Jesse be kissing me with all the vigour and love he was now?
I think not.
Contented by these thoughts, I melted back into my pillows.
Jesse pulled back suddenly, frowning down at me. Crap, I thought with alarm. He's realised he does prefer the less forward, less easy ways of the hoopskirt-clad girls from his time and he's gonna move on. I knew I shouldn't be so slutty, I knew I shouldn't-
Jesse propped himself up on his hands and looked around sharply.
"What? What is it?"
Jesse's body had tensed like a cat's. "I thought I felt a presence." He stared intently at the window seat. "I still do."
OK, I was a little freaked out by this. Someone was perving on us making out? Gross. I propped myself up on my elbows while Jesse leant over me like a tent and peered around the room. It was the safest I'd ever felt, trapped between his arms with his lower body on top of mine.
"Bethany?" I called out tentatively. Jesse looked down at me after a silent pause.
"It doesn't feel like Bethany." I stared up him.
"You mean ghosts have different flavours?" Wow. And I thought I knew ghosts down to a pat.
"Do you feel anything, querida?" I concentrated.
"All I can feel is you lying on top of me. No objections, I'm just stating at fact. The only thing I feel is you. On top of me." Jesse smiled and rolled off me and off the bed. I heaved a sigh and slumped back into the pillows. Little buzzes of satisfaction flickered through me, and weights of disappointed that Jesse had got off me and stopped our make-out session pushed down on me.
"Is it my turn now?" A voice tickled in my ear.
