Hey guys. Since, you know, I have finals coming up and a big research paper due on Tuesday, I decided, "Hey! This is a perfect time to start a new fan fiction!"

Or, rather, not start, but CONTINUE. Yes. I was suddenly struck with some inspiration for a sequel to "LEARNING TO LOVE."



Summary: It's been 3 months since Suze and Jesse got together, when Paul decides he made a mistake, and Suze realizes she may not have been as over him as she thought.

DISCLAIMER: I own the plot. The characters and locale belong to Meg Cabot.

Rating: T—a high T, though. In future chapters, it may be raised to M.


Chapter One

The minute hand on the clock hit the big twelve, and my teacher nodded and let us go. Finally.

I gathered up my books, shoved them into my messenger bag, slipped into my corduroy jacket, and hurried with Cee Cee out the door.

As we did every day, I met my boyfriend, Jesse, at the fountain (turned off for the winter). He saw me coming, gave me a big smile, and pulled me into an embrace, kissing me gently on the lips. "Hello, Querida, how was your day?" He asked, wrapping his arm around my waist. I waved good bye to Cee Cee and Adam. We started walking together toward his car.

"Okay. I think I failed a bio test," I said, "But other than that it was alright."

"I'm sure you did perfectly fine," he said, giving me a smile that melted my heart. "You're very smart. You underestimate yourself."

"You're biased," I teased back, and he winked.

He opened the car door for me, and I slid in. He shut it, came around the back and got in the driver's seat.

"Tomorrow is your birthday," he told me. I grinned.

"Really?" He rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

"I want to take you out. Where do you want to go?" I considered.

"I don't know. But I know somewhere I want to go right now," I said, smiling slyly.

"Oh? And where's that?" He asked lightly. I leaned over the gear shift, held his neck with one hand, and placed a few kisses on his neck and jaw

"How about your house?" I whispered. Jesse took a deep breath, then nodded. I sat back down, buckled up, and we were off.


What I liked about going to Jesse's place is that he lives with his aunt and uncle, both of which are way younger than his mom (Elena, his mom's sister, is 28; Jose, her husband, is 30 next month) and are much more lax with Jesse. Plus, they both work weird hours (1 p.m. to 10 at night) and are never home after school.

Jesse and I take advantage of this often.

Not that we had slept together. (Yet. I was dying to, though.) But it's sort of awkward, making out when his aunt is singing to herself in the other room.

In the kitchen, I went to get myself a glass from the cupboard. I reached up, and all of a sudden felt hands at my waist, tickling me. I shrieked, and pulled my arms down and wrapped them around my stomach. Jesse's mouth was suddenly at my jaw, kissing and nuzzling. His arms went around my waist, pulling my back against his front.

I tilted my head expertly to give him better access. After a moment I turned around to face him. He smiled at me, before I pulled his face down towards mine and kissed him. I ran my tongue over his lips, and he shivered and opened them to me.

Jesse's room was across the hallway from the kitchen, and, after a few minutes of making out leaning against the counter, I pulled him across the hall and onto his neatly made bed. He certainly didn't seem to mind the sudden change of venue. One of his hands flitted with the hem of my (sort of short) skirt, while the other held my hip firmly.

We continued kissing, with a passion and hunger for each other. I loved the way he felt against me, the way he kissed, the way he held me. It was like I couldn't get close enough to him.

So I slid my hands underneath his soft dark green sweater, feeling the strong muscles that were beneath. I gripped the hem, and started pulling it off of him.

He allowed me to, letting go of me just long enough to shove his arms out of the sleeves.

It may have been December, but it was certainly warm in his room right now.

Once the barrier of his shirt was removed, I traced my fingers in feathery shapes along his chest and stomach. He continued kissing me, down my neck and collar bone. His fingers went to the button-snaps that went down the front of my pink striped shirt. The little pop! of each one coming undone seemed to excite both Jesse and I even more. He moaned into my neck, and, when the last button came popped open, he shoved the shirt open. I arched my back, pressing my chest against his, so that he could take it off properly.

I wanted desperately to continue where this was going. I cared for Jesse immensely. I was so attracted to him. I wanted everything about him.

However, I know that he had never done this before. Did he want to?

When I felt a pressure against my hip, I figured it was a safe bet, so I decided to go for it.

I held his shoulders, and rolled over, so I was on top. I kissed him once more, before sitting up. I was straddling his legs, my skirt having ridden up a bit in the commotion. I traced my hands down his chest, down his "goody trail," as some call it. I stopped my hands at the button and zipper of his corduroy pants. We were both breathing heavily. He was flat on his back, looking up at me with a lusty—but loving—gaze. Oh yea. I wasn't wearing a shirt.

Well, I mean, I had a bra on. Only gross people don't wear bras over the age of 12, and Jesse hadn't removed mine yet. But it was lace. And slightly push-up.

But then his face contorted into a look of dilemma. He looked way more stressed than a guy with a half naked girl on his lap should.

Make him relax. Make him crazier. Guys love girls doing manual labor. Voices, echoes from my past came into my head. I remembered many conversations like this at lunch, back when I went to RLS. I was still afraid to go all the way with Paul, but all of my friends were actively sleeping with their boyfriends, and giving each other tips and suggestions.

I hadn't needed them with Paul. He was the aggressive one, the confident one. He never needed any help relaxing. But Jesse was different.

I reached for the button of his pants when suddenly his hands grip my wrists. Hard.

He gently pushed me off of him, and sat up. He reached for my shirt, which was hanging from one of his bedposts, and handed it to me.

I grudgingly put it on, sort of upset about being stopped so suddenly. I stood up, and straightened my skirt. He simply got off the bed, picked up his sweater from where I had tossed it, and put it back on.

"Are you hungry? Aunt Elena baked some cookies for her friend's birthday, I think she left some on the counter." And with that, he just left the room and went back into the kitchen. I stared at his back.

Cookies? We come that close, and then he suddenly stops and offers me cookies?

How did he cool down so quickly? I mean, he seemed totally into it until he actually saw me without a shirt on. Most guys get even more excited at that point.

Unless… maybe he thought I was a slut. I mean, I know he wasn't too excited when he found out that I wasn't a virgin. And now, after only 3 months, I'm trying to sleep with him.

I really am a slut, aren't I?

Or maybe he didn't like what he saw. He realized I'm unattractive, or fat, or—

"Susannah? Are you coming?"

"You know what, I think I should be getting home," I said lamely.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, concerned.

Of course. My boyfriend just suddenly is acting completely repulsive towards me.

"Yea. I just… should go study or something. I want to be able to bring my bio grade up." He looked at me dubiously (he, of all people, knew best that I never, ever study for anything).

"Okay," he said, letting it drop. He grabbed his car keys from a hook in the kitchen. I picked up my coat and book bag from the hall, and followed him out to his car.

We were both silent on the way home, each of us contemplating each other's actions. Something in me knew I was over reacting, but I couldn't help it.

It wasn't so much that he stopped me, but that he didn't give me a reason why. It was like he didn't want to tell me why. If he had said, "Susannah, not today, Elena is coming home early," or, "Querida, the time isn't right. We should wait until it at least isn't daylight still" or something.

But all he said was that his aunt had baked some cookies.

He pulled up in my driveway, and parked the car. As I was reaching for the door handle, he took my other hand. I turned to look at him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay? And I'm taking you out tomorrow night."

"Okay," I said. He pulled my face towards him gently, and kissed me gently on the lips. "See you later," I said, and then I opened the door and went into my house.


Okay, kind of short. But not entirely pointless.

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