Disclaimer – No, I do not own any of these characters. But if any one could let me own Jesse for a day…. Yeah, I wouldn't mind trading places with Suze for a day!!!!!!!!!!!!! ;-)

A/N – Yes, yes. I know that they found out they love each other from in Darkest Hour and Haunted. So just pretend that those two didn't take place, if you will. Like, this takes places after Reunion, I think I made it to be… well whatever. Just read it.

I was sitting on the window seat in Susannah's bedroom. As always, I was reading, while she was at school. The nice, cool breeze off the beach poured into the room though the partly-open window. The house was quiet, and I was left alone with my thoughts – my thoughts about Susannah in particular.

Damn! Why must I always torture myself like this? Why did the one person who could see me – well, besides the priest of course – have to be so beautiful? Not that I'm complaining, but it tends to make things more difficult… for me, any way. My querida has not let on to how she feels about me. She's so beautiful, I know she can have any boy – any boy who's alive, unlike me – that she wanted to.

Her flaming lips that talk so rough and tough, even though she's not. Her hair, and the way it curls around her shoulders when she's too tired to straighten it out again. Her eyes, which sparkle when she's happy, that flame up when she's angry that some one dares to mess with the members of her family – that has happened on more occasions than I can count. Her emerald green, those deep green eyes of hers… Dios! It's no use!

I slam the book shut. It was pretty boring, actually. In the book, a man was attempting to court some woman he was in love with. He was giving her a poem he wrote about her. I paused in mid-thought.

Poem. To Susannah.

I know just what I would have done if I where alive. Short of telling my feelings and then kissing her, I would ask her parents if I could court Susannah. Still… I could write a poem, couldn't I?

Stop kidding yourself, de Silva! I yell at myself, mentally. Still, I was already going to her desk and picking up a pen. I took one blank sheet of paper from the stack he had in the corner of the top of her desk. Querida… I thought. How can I compare you to anything half as beautiful as yourself?

But still, I had to try. I already sat down and held the pen above the paper.

I was alone.

Uugh! That sounded too dramatic. I scratched it out. Think, I told myself. Suddenly, I got it. I was as though a muse inspired me – perhaps that muse was my own querida, Susannah?

Your flaming eyes, and fiery lips,

They melt me.

And even if I am long dead, I see you, and something dies inside of me.

Querida, I know we could never be today.

So my heart breaks with every smile you shine.

You shine like the sun, in my world of shadow.

Querida, I love you –

I heard the door swing open. I had approximately half-a nanosecond (which is half of a hundredth of a second) to get out of that chair and get rid of the incriminating evidence.

Of course it was none other than Susannah walking into the room! I folded the sheet of paper I had written on, and held it behind my back, hoping she wouldn't notice anything funny going on.

"Hello, Susannah," I smiled.

Susannah gave a grumpy, "Hello," back.

"What's the matter? Something happen at school?"

Susannah looked up at me. She had been sitting on the bed, taking one of her shoes off. From where she was, she got a glimpse of the paper behind my back.

Damn! "What have you got there, Jesse?" she asked, really curious.

"Nothing, querida."

I guess I said, "nothing" a little too fast, because my answer made Susannah all the more curious.

"What is, Jesse?" Susannah stood up, and was walking toward me, as I started backing into the wall – or actually, toward the window seat.

I have learned, back when I was alive, that the best defense is offense, so I said back to her, "What, you don't trust me, Susannah?"

"No," was her reply – half kidding, half-serious – as Susannah tried to snatch the paper from behind.

"Oh, and all the times I saved your life have not counted for anything, I suppose?" I asked, as I held the paper up, out of Susannah's reach.

"I say 'Thank you,' don't I, Jesse?" She continued leaping up in the air, trying to get it.

Susannah then tickled my stomach – something that surprised me as much as it made me laugh, and made me drop my hand down. She knows a lot of strategies about getting papers back, I realized.

Left with no other alternative, I kept my paper behind my back. Unfortunately, that forced Susannah to place both of her arms around my waist – and "attack from both sides of me," if you will.

Uh-oh. That put me and mi querida in an… interesting position, because she had her arms around my waist. I don't know if it was me or Susannah who had the hardest trouble breathing.

We both paused. I could kiss her very easily if I wanted to, I realized. Before I could force myself out of the trace, mi querida suddenly snatched the paper from my hands, and opened it. I was about to "poof" out of there, as Susannah sometimes calls it, but she caught my hand. "Hold on, there," she said.

I was forced to stand – to my utter embarrassment – in the same room as Susannah as she read the poem. I uttered swear-words under my breath in my Mother-tongue, Spanish.

I saw Susannah's eyebrows rise higher with each passing line she read to herself. What a stupid idea it was to do this! This wasn't the first time I thought this to myself.

"J-Jesse," I heard Susannah say in a very shaky voice.

"Yes, querida?" I asked, honestly wanting to get out of there as fast as I could.

"Is-is any of this true, or are you pulling my leg?"

"Pulling your-?"

"I mean, is this a joke, or is it serious."

I drop my head in embarrassment as well as shame for what I had done. "It's serious," I mumble quietly, not looking up.

"T-then I… I have to tell you something, too, Jesse."

"What is it, querida?" I ask. I wanted to die, right there and then. Or, well, I would have, but I'm already dead.

"I love you, too."

I looked up in surprise. Susannah walked over, and put her arms around my waist. This time it wasn't because I was hiding a piece of paper behind me.

"Susannah," I stroked her hair. Then I leaned down and kissed her, and kissed her some more, wanting it to last for all of time.

A/N – Please review it. Pretty please?