A.N - Hey guys, just a little fluff to kinda tie you over until whenever I can start updating again. Hope you like it! I do. A lot. :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, they all belong to Meg Cabot.

Kiss and Tell

High School parties suck. Like, a lot. Trust me. Being a junior at the Junipero Serra Mission Academy, I've been to a few.

This one was only slightly better than the others I'd been too, seeing as Hector de Silva had shown up. Hector never made an appearance at these shindigs. I don't think it's because he thinks he's too cool or anything (though, he most probably is. Hector de Silva is a Grade A heart throb, a senior and the most popular guy at Junipero), I think it's more of an 'I've-got-better-things-to-do' kind of thing.

Not that I can blame him. I have better things to do.

Unfortunately, my boyfriend Paul doesn't.

"Suze!" The voice belonged to one Kelly Prescott. My popularity boosted the second I said yes to Paul Slater to stop him hounding me for a date and ever since I've been forced to endure such scintillating conversation from her general direction.

Cue the "like, Oh Em Gee!"'s.

"Suze!" She waved coolly, gesturing me over. "Truth or Dare?"

I ignored the urge to roll my eyes. Before attending my first High School party at the age of fifteen, I hadn't played this game since my 9th birthday slumber party. But, knowing these people, if I say truth then I'll be forced to admit that despite going out for almost a whole school year, mine and Paul's relationship hasn't progressed much further than second base.

"Dare." I spoke calmly, swigging a mouthful of my coke. Everyone else thought it was alcohol, of course – it's all in the image, after all. And it's also why I was the only sober person in this huge, crowded house.

Kelly's grin turned wicked as she whispered to Debbie, her sidekick, and her eyes glinted.

"I dare you," she spoke in a loud whisper, gathering the attention of everyone in the immediate area, "to spend five minutes, locked in that closet, with whatever guy we send in. Blindfolded."

"Paul will be pissed." I told her. "What will I say to him?"

"Oh," she brushed away the protest with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Leave him to me."

"But –"

"Suze." Kelly's eyes narrowed. "Just get in the damn closet."


I stood still as the scarf was tied over my eyes, idly wondering why it was Kelly wanted me to do this so badly, then, the next thing I knew, I was being led into a closet and the door was shut behind me.

"We'll send someone in," Debbie informed me. "Your time starts when the door shuts behind him."

When the door opened again, I looked up instinctively even though I couldn't see. A deep chuckle was the only reply I was given.

"Alright," I rounded towards where the laugh had come from, glad that it was male at least. It would be just like Kelly to try and get me to re-enact a Katy Perry song. "First, who are you? And second, don't expect to get fresh with me. There was nothing in the dare that said I had to actually do anything with you, so –"

I was cut off when strong, masculine lips descended on mine as I felt equally as strong arms wrap around my waist. My hands, in response, trailed up the stranger's shirt – and can I just say that this guy is cut? Six pack for sure under there – before entwining around his neck as I was pushed into the wall.

This was a kiss. It far surpassed anything Paul was capable of and I was most certainly not complaining.

My fingers twirled around a curl of hair at the nape of this guy's neck. So my mystery kisser had curly hair. Good to know.

We broke apart for air and I repeated my earlier, as-of-yet-unanswered, question. "Who are you?"

I heard his lips separating with a soft, wet smack as he took in air to answer, presumably. His reply was cut off by a knock at the door.

"Um, Suze?" A nervous, male voice came from the other side. "I'm your, um, dare."

He was my dare? I recognised the voice as someone from my Algebra class. Definitely not 'cool' by Kelly's standards. Which explains why she wanted me in the closet so much – it was the perfect opportunity to embarrass me. But, if it was him I was meant to kiss … then who was I actually kissing?

"We're busy!" This voice came from closer – next to my ear to be precise – and so could only belong to my mystery kisser. And, by the way, his annoyed tone? Totally hot. He paused and waited for the sounds of the other guy scrambling away to disappear before he turned back to me. "Now, where we?"

And I was kissing him again. This time, though, every touch was a little bit more, well, possessive. His hands rested on my hips, fingers clenching enough to anchor me to him and not hurt me, his mouth was hard against mine, our tongues practically duelling.

Whoever he was, could he pretty please give Paul tips?

Or tell me who he was, at least, so I could finally dump Paul and move on to bigger and better things?

His voice was familiar though. It had a twang of something not quite like everybody else. I'd heard it before, at least. So he wasn't someone random attending the party in search of free booze, saw me getting pushed into a closet and thought 'wahey, I'll have me a piece of that'.

Kissing him was like a drug, however, and I didn't want to stop and wonder who he was when I could be getting my fix. After, when the five minutes was up, I'd find out.

But considering this guy wasn't actually my dare, it wasn't surprising that we spent more than five minutes in that closet.


That's who my kisser had been. As he pulled away from me for a final time, his fingers brushed mine and he leant in for a final, sweet kiss. I tangled his fingers in mine to prevent him going.

"Who are you?" I asked again for the third time.

"Jesse." He chuckled. "You can call me Jesse."

"But I don't know anyone called Jesse …"

My voice trailed as I heard the door open, the sound of someone moving, then the door closing again. He was gone.


When I stumbled out of the closet sometime later, all eyes were on me. I could only imagine what I looked like. Mussed hair, kiss-swollen lips, and black panda eyes from where the blindfold had been.

Basically, like I'd been ravaged.

The only problem was there wasn't a guy around who looked the same way as me. Every single person my eyes rested on looked immaculate. No one guy had his hair messed with my pink lipstick smudged over his lips.

Shrugging off all the stares, I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to fix it as best as I could without a mirror. Just my luck that it was as I was doing this that I caught the eye of no other than Hector de Silva and he winked at me. My cheeks flushed red at his knowing look and I saw, rather then heard, his laughter as he shook his head and joined in the conversation with his friends again.

Call me crazy, but I think that there was something distinctly pink resting on his upper lip ...

The though didn't last long before Paul Slater went charging up to him, angry, determined and drunk as hell.

"De Silva!" His voice was slurred, but strong. "What's this I hear about you and my girlfriend?"

If he felt even the slightest amount of confusion that I felt at my boyfriend's statement, he didn't show it. His face remained impassive as he raised one eyebrow in response. An eyebrow, I noticed, that had a faint scar running through it.

"Don't even try to deny it!" Paul continued. "I just effing saw you!"

Except, it was Paul, and he was drunk. So let's just say his language was a bit more colourful.

"Maybe," Hector spoke, his voice neutral but with a Spanish undertone that hinted at his hispanic background, "if you spent more time with your girlfriend, she wouldn't find herself in closets with seniors."

My breath caught in my throat. Had it been Hector in the closet with me? Even as I dismissed the notion, my heartbeat grew seriously irregular. It wasn't a dare for him. He would have wanted to be there. He would have wanted to kiss me.

"It was a dare!" Paul shouted, narrowing blue eyes at his classmate.

"Ah, so even if I was in the closet with her," Hector continued, a twinkle in his dark eyes, "then you don't really have a right to be so annoyed. Her dare, her decision."

Come to think about it, there was something very familiar about his voice, now that I was close enough to hear it.

"She didn't choose you," Paul protested. "It wasn't supposed to be you. Kelly said –"

"So you can spend all night making-out with Kelly and I can't spend ten minutes kissing Susannah?"

I gasped, more out of shock of his almost-admission – he could be speaking hypothetically here – rather than finding out that Paul had been cheating on me. Which was actually kind of a relief. Now I don't have to feel guilty about dumping him.

Only then it seemed did both guys notice me in the crowd and Paul apparently lost it.

"Fuck you, De Silva." He spat. "You don't know what you're talking about. You shouldn't have gone into that stupid closet with her and try to break up my damn relationship!"

"Oh, now you're just giving me ideas."

It was Paul that threw the first punch. Not one person in the crowd that had gathered could deny this. His aim was so messed from the alcohol, however, that it missed its target and so it was Jesse that got the first – and last – hit.

Paul was out like a light, hitting the floor with a heavy thud and a nose was most probably broken. Not that I found it in me to care. Especially considering that Kelly had immediately rushed towards him, pressing kisses over his unconscious form in a way that suggested she'd kissed him before.

So Paul had been cheating on me then. We were so over.

Fingers brushed along my waist, heavy hands settling there familiarly. Both served to distract me from my thoughts immensely. Turning, I glanced up at Hector, his dark curly hair falling into his face as he smiled down at me.

"I hope you don't mind that," he gestured towards Paul's prone body with a smile. "I've never really liked him much."

"Jesse, huh?" A hint of a smile graced my lips. "Who gave you that name?"

"My mom," his smile was mischievous. "Only she gets to call me it. And now you."

I turned in his arms and his hands accommodated by locking around my waist as my hands went around his neck. Like in the closet, only now I could see.

Which was good, you know, because Jesse de Silva really is good looking. And from where I was, I could see each individual eyelash that curved upwards from his dark brown eyes just as well as I could see the white teeth glinting behind a wide smile against his olive-toned skin.

"Why did you follow me in there?" I gestured with my head towards the now infamous closet.

He shrugged. "I heard Kelly announce the dare and I didn't want anyone else in there with you." His smile slipped off his face and his eyes narrowed as they focused on something over her shoulder. "It's hard enough seeing you with him and he's your boyfriend. Let alone someone else. I'd rather it was me."

My grin was wide. "Ex."


"Ex-boyfriend." I told him. "You won't have to see me with him anymore."


Then he kissed me again and any doubts I might have had that it was Jesse who was my mystery kisser disappeared right there.

I'd know these lips anywhere.