A.N - So, yeah. I apologise for the delay and all. When the Christmas holidays come, I'm pretty sure I'll be able to get a good chunk out of everything finished. But until then, there's various exams, homeworks, rehearsals. Etc.

Huge thanks to anyone who is still with me. Hope you like.

Chapter Eight

"You kind of brought this upon yourself."

He'd regressed back to stalker-mode. Seriously, since we first met we'd been on two dates, kissed – like, a lot – and even had our first fight. Which was kind of kicking us in the rear about now. But his eyes stayed locked on my every movement.

It's creepy. In a 'damn-that-sexy-guy-watching-me' way.

Well, it's not like I could abandon my job altogether. I'd already given them a free show earlier and, besides, I was this close to being fired and I need the money for educational purposes.

So, by the time my shift had finished, the diner had emptied, the sky was turning a deep purple and Jesse had ordered at least five black coffees (no sugar).

"Ok," I shrugged into the seat opposite. "Talk."

He sighed. "What do you want me to say?"

Many things that are too inappropriate for the conversation at hand, to be perfectly honest. Things like: I love you, will you marry me? Sure, I'm kind of jumping the gun a bit but, yeah. A girl can dream.

"How long have you known?"

Uncomfortable, Jesse raised his long slender fingers and scratched at the back of his neck.

"You mean, you've known," I leaned in closer to him. "All this time?"

His eyes darted from mine to my lips and back again. I smiled maliciously. Uh, yeah right, amigo.

"Well, yeah," he swallowed and I followed the tilt of his throat as he did so before glancing back up at him through my eyelashes. Yeah, I was playing dirty and using my feminine wiles. I'm not going to just let him win this one. He needs to suffer. "I actually come from Carmel. There's someone back there who thought he could help you, but you never turned up. He sent me to look after you. To help teach you how to use your …" he trailed off, glancing over each shoulder before leaning in and brushing his lips against mine as he spoke his next word. "… Gift."

No, Suze, I told myself. Ignore those shivers he just sent up your spine!

"So…" I paused, wrapping my mind around what he'd told me. "What you're saying is … that … you were … sent after me?"

I felt my heart clench at the thought. He was just using me? For this 'someone' who thought I needed help? My fist clenched even whilst I sent a smile fluttering in Jesse's direction.

"Exactly!" He smiled, not realising what I had.

Oh Jesse. Poor, stupid, oblivious Jesse.

You are so going to pay.

"All of this?" I gestured around us at the empty diner, where the workers were all studiously trying to not eavesdrop. "All of it was planned?"

A look of horror slowly spread over his face.

"All of it?" I repeated, my voice going embarrassingly high. "You and me? Us? We were planned?!"

I stood up, tears blurring my vision. Ugh. This sucked. I went against every rule I'd ever had for behaving around boys. Most importantly, do not cry. Do not show them you're weak.

Jesse's hand clasped over my arm. "Suze, no, wait," he pleaded. "You've got it wrong!"

Yanking my arm back into my own possession, I glared at him. "Oh really?" I questioned. "So you weren't sent here to get close to me by some random stranger I've never met?"

"He's not a stranger!" Jesse denied, stepping backwards and closing his eyes. "You were supposed to move with Helen and we were going to help you then, but –"

"How do you know my mom's name?"

Jesse's eyes snapped open. "I, uh," he stuttered. "Um, you, er… told me?"

I shook my head. "No I didn't." I scoffed. "God, you're even more of a stalker than I first thought." Gesturing between the two of us, I continued. "This – whatever it was – is over."

Turning my back, I walked out of the café. At least, I tried to. Jesse was like a dog with a bone. His hand clamped on my shoulder and he twisted me to face him, his lips falling over mine before I had chance to say anything.

And, can I just say? What a hell of a kiss it was. Seriously. Whatever I had to say about Jesse, that he was a bad kisser was not one of them. The only thing was, there was a hint of desperation to this particular kiss. His fingers dug into my shoulders, as if trying to worm in so far they'd be stuck, and his mouth on mine was unrelenting.

It was most definitely a goodbye.

My hands rose to wind around his neck before I realised what I was doing and pushed him away. He stumbled back with a curse.

"Díos." The Spanish sounded so darn hot in that accent of his. "Querida, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Whilst there were a number of retorts sitting on my tongue, ready to fire off at him, I remained silent, taking him in for one last time. His hair had gained volume – hours of running his fingers worriedly through it, I suppose – and his deep brown eyes were wide and inviting. I was going to miss him, I really was.

"I'm sorry Jesse." I turned and walked away again, but this time for the last time. "But you kind of brought this upon yourself."

Walking through the streets of New York, whilst simultaneously trying not to cry, is seriously a difficult feat. There's something about being vulnerable in this city that screams, "Hey, come hassle me."

Not that I couldn't look after myself if someone like, say, a mugger was to sneak up from behind. Years of ghost-butt kicking had trained me well. But I couldn't really attack the people on the streets giving out random flyers for clubs and hot dog joints opening across town. I'm pretty sure I could get arrested.

When I finally rounded on the corner to my apartment, it was as close to bliss as I was going to get any time soon and I practically ran up the stairs in my effort to curl up in bed with a movie and ice cream.

We all have our weaknesses. Mine was the deliciously glorious taste of Ben & Jerry's.

But when I let myself in, I wasn't alone. Both Paul and Mr. Ghostman were there. Well, James, I suppose.

Paul took one look at me – my red-rimmed eyes and my work uniform, which was so unlike me, considering I usually can't wait to get the damn thing off – and opened his arms silently.

It wasn't long before I was sobbing out the whole story to him as he wrapped his arms around me and whispered comforting phrases into my ear.

Seriously, who needs a fake-boyfriend from California who stalks you, knows your mom's name and hid the fact he knew you were a freak, when you have a Paul?