A/N Sorry for the crummy chapter last time. This is over 100 words, so it should make up for it. I've written Chapter 29! (and no, Megan, you cannot read it in my notebook tomorrow!). Its a huge shocker. It was also really hard to write. LOL. Anyways, review. If you don't review, you are not getting chapters 28 and 29! There should only be about 7 chapters left.
Chapter 27
"What the hell did you just do?" I shrieked at Paul, feeling my heart come shuddering back to life, and breathing heavily.
"Shifted," replied Paul simply, shrugging his shoulders. He stood up, brushing grass off his jeans.
"Excuse me?" I said, standing up beside him. "You tell me now, what shifting is?"
"Like you gave me a chance!" yelled Paul.
"Yeah, I did!" I yelled back. "But all you were interested in was sticking your tongue in my mouth!"
"You didn't have to sic your stupid little ghost boyfriend on me, you know. Just how many guys have you got in limbo now, anyway?"
I sank to the ground. "Jesse's not my boyfriend," I said. "And neither are you or Brad."
"That's funny," replied Paul. "Because when was the last time you kissed Jake? When was your last date? When was the last time you looked at him and actually felt something?"
"Shut up!" I yelled. "Shut up, because you habe no idea what you're talking about! For your information, I kissed Jake this morning!"
"No you didn't," replied Paul, calmly.
"Yes, I did."
"No, you didn't. This morning was the morning of 28th June, 1850. Jake won't be born for another 135 years, at least."
"You mean, we time-travelled?" I shrieked. Yes, I shrieked. Sue me. I was completely freaked out. "We're back in 1850. We travleed back in time, like I said we would."
"Wow," I replied. "This is California, circa 1850."
"What will become California," corrected Paul. "Remember, its not a state yet."
"Sorry," I said, humbly. "But still...wow."
Paul sat beside me on the soft grass. "Suze," he said, stroking my arm. "Do you love Jake?"
"I don't know," I found myself replying. "I mean, he was my world, back in Brooklyn. But then I ran away to Carmel, and met people who just confused me."
"When Jake kisses you, you don't feel anything, do you?" asked Paul. "No sparks. Nada. Nil."
"Its true," I said. "I guess I don't love Jake."
"But when I do this," continued Paul, leaning over to kiss me deeply. It was a good kiss. No, amazing, is the word. He could be the most amazing kisser I know.
But I didn't feel anything. I've never felt anything when it came to Paul. Fear, maybe. Lust, perhaps. But never love.
"-You feel...?"
Paul looked at me blankly, wanting an answer.
"I'm sorry, Paul," I said, finally. "I'm not in love with you."
Paul stood up.
"Who then, Simon, who? Who is it that you just can't resist? Its not me, its not your boyfriend. Who's left? Brad?"
"I'm not in love with you," I repeated, more confidently. I realised as the words slipped off my tongue, this was, really, a modernised version of the conversation between me and Jesse. Suddenly, I felt Paul's pain. He was in love with me. But me? I had to tell him.
I had to. Though it may mean risking all I got...
"-I'm in love with... Jesse."
For a couple of seconds, I thought Paul had exploded. But then I realised, as it fell to the ground, that he;d just kicked up a pile of loose strands of grass, and was steadily turning scarlet.
"Why him?" he yelled. "He's dead. He's dead dead dead! He has no body heat, or no heartbeat, or no life to risk for yours. Most of Carmel can't even see him!"
"I know," I whimpered. "I know he's dead. I know he's got nothing you have. But he's strong-willed, and passionate. He's polite, and educated. He's a man," I added. "You're just a boy, Paul. You always will be. I don't think you'll ever grow up."
That was it. Paul had reached boiling point.
"Right," he said.
"Right," he kept on saying. "Your pretty boy is not gonna die. He's gonna stay alive, and he's gonna marry Maria De Silva. And he's gonna die at a ripe old age and never going to meet you. And you," - he thrust a finge rin my direction - "are never going to even have a memory."
"No!" I cried, feeling salty tears crawl down my flushed cheeks. "Paul! Its not right!"
"If you were really in love with him," he said. "You'd let him live his life, and die peacefully."
"I can't!" I shrieked. "I can't just watch history change! He's got to die like he did, so that he can meet me!"
"Meet Lizzie, you mean?" corrected Paul. "You're forgetting one crucial fact. He doesn't love you. He loves Lizzie. Not you."
Then I remembered.
Nothing would change things between Jesse and I. If he did marry Maria, he wouldn't love Lizzie, but he wouldn't love me, either. And going back now would still mean he loved Lizzie. Not me. He was never going to love me.
"Get it now?" asked Paul. "He doesn't love-"
"Me. I get it Paul, I really do. So stop rubbing it in my face." I rubbed my eyes to get rid of the remaing tears. "So how does it matter now, what we do?"
"Well," said Paul. "If we let him live, you'll never know the pain he cause you by loving Lizzie."
"But Paul-"
It was too late. Paul hadn't waited for my agreement. He was off down the slope, meeting the path that would lead him to Carmel. Well, the few houses that made it a place.
"Paul!" I screamed, running after him. "Paul!"
My feet rubbed raw on the path, as I left my mules in 2006, and I kicked stones everywhere. My breathing become heavier, my brow thickened with sweat, and I had to stop. Unlike Paul, I didn't lift weights everyday.
In. Out. In. Out.
Calm down Suze. Maybe Jesse isn't in town yet. Maybe he'll arrive later. Or tomorrow.
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
Or maybe Paul hasn't found him yet. I mean, flouncy shirts are very popular here in 1850. Some other person may have been mistaken for Jesse.
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
On second thoughts, its possible Paul has found that Diego guy. Oh God, I better start walking again.
Clip-clop, clip-clop.
"Miss! Move out of the way!"
That voice... that wonderfully deep voice sounded so familiar...
I turned to face whatever was coming, when I was met by something firm and heavy.
I fell to the floor in an instant.