Date: Mon, 19 Jul 2010 09:10:41 -0400 (EDT)
From: hardreader2000@aol.com
Subject: Jess Story, Chapter 13, Part 2

Jess' Story
Chapter 13, Part II
From Jess' viewpoint

I felt like I had been hit in the gut twice. First Paul tells me he knows
all about "I Thought I Knew" and then he has the nerve to tell me he's in
love with me. After only one night together!

My mind was so fucked up by it that I really couldn't process all the
emotions and anger and fear that were tearing me apart. I literally had to
sit down and catch my breath. But I couldn't catch my breath. My chest
hurt. I felt too weak to stand up. I was a mess.

Even in all that confusion, I knew I should call H.R. and tell him that I
was right. Paul knew. As mad as I was at H.R., I didn't need to rub his
face in it, but he needed to know that his security plan had failed. It
sure as hell had failed me anyway.

It took me about an hour to settle down enough that I could make the
call. When H.R. answered I didn't say anything except, "He knows. He told
me so."

"What does he know?" H.R. all but demanded to know. His tone made me even
angrier, but I didn't say anything to him about it. I told him the little
bit Paul said before I had hung up on him.

"Well, you have to call him back and ask him how he figured it out. Meet
with him if you have to," H.R. said as if he was talking to one of his
lackeys.

"You call him and ask. I'm not calling him. He lied to me."

"What did he lie about?" H.R. asked, his tone still demanding.

"Well, not exactly lied, but he didn't tell me the truth."

"The guy just told you he loved you. How much truth do you need?"

"He doesn't even know me," I said. "We've known each other for like a day
or two. We spent one night together and already he says he's in love with
me."

"Well, if he is a big fan of 'I Thought I Knew' he probably thinks he does
know you. Either way, you have to call him. And the sooner the better."

We both fell silent.

"Jess, just do it. Please. For all of us. It's not just for you, you know."

H.R. finally wore me down and I promised to call Paul that afternoon. I'd
missed one class already. I might as well blow the entire day. I couldn't
concentrate in class anyway and I sure didn't want to see anyone. Or for
anyone to see me.

Finally I got myself together and called Paul back. I was pretty calm, but
mostly hoping he was in class or something and wouldn't answer. I had
thought through what I would say if I had to leave a message. I sort of
knew what I was gonna say if he actually answered.

Fuck me! He answered saying, "I didn't think you'd call. I am so sorry."

He sounded so sincere. So sad. I could picture his face. His soft lips
turned down in a frown. His eyelids drooping. His hair disheveled.

I suddenly couldn't remember what I had planned to say. The sound of his
voice had thrown me off. It just sucked me in and all my thoughts crumbled
to dust, leaving me . . . speechless.

"Jess . . . Are you there?"

I still hadn't spoken.

"Mhmm" I managed. "I . . ." I needed to think. What did I want to say? Then
as quickly as my thoughts had vanished, they were back. It all clicked into
place again.

"I have two things I need to tell you. One, don't tell me you love me
again. Don't even try to tell me you know me. Trust me, you don't. You
can't. And two, how did you figure out it was me? That I was Jess? The Jess
in the story? If we're gonna have any chance at ever being friends again, I
have to know exactly how you figured it out."

"Can I come over? I can explain it all to you. Just let me come over and
tell you."

I'd thought he might try that and I'd decided there was no way I could see
him. Not right now. Not the way I felt.

"I can be there in like 15 minutes and explain everything," he said and
paused waiting for my answer. I struggled to form the words. "Please," he
added in a tone that shattered my reserve.

"OK," I said, my stomach tightening. I took a deep breath. "But just to
talk and then you have to go."

"See you in 15," Paul said and I heard him hang up. I left my cell up
against my ear. Listening to silence. Wondering why I had said "Yes" when I
wanted to say "No". Somewhere deep inside I guess I knew I had to see
him. Even wanted to see him. I guess I even hoped that I'd find a way to
forgive him for deceiving me. Tricking me.

Suddenly I had to pee bad. As I shook off the last drops, I looked up and
saw myself in the mirror. It wasn't good. I washed my face. Brushed my
teeth. Tried to make my hair look . . . better anyway. I was putting on my
deodorant and planning to put on a fresh T-shirt when I heard a knock at
the door.

I wanted to make him wait while I got a clean T. He'd have to learn to tell
the truth. If he said 15 minutes it should be 15. Not 10. Even as I thought
those words, I realized how petty and stupid that was. Paul was here early
not to . . . Fuck it! Fuck me!

I opened the door and let him in.

"I'm so sorry" were the first words to gush out of his mouth. His eyes held
mine for a long moment before we each sort of looked each other
over. Suspiciously? I'm not sure, but we both did it.

He looked pretty much as I had imagined him when I talked to him on the
phone. I was glad I had cleaned up until I suddenly realized I was standing
there in nothing but a pair of cargo shorts drooping so low he could no
doubt practically see my dick.

I pulled them up on my hips . . . at least a little . . . and then raised
my hands to indicate I didn't want him to say another word.

"Sit down," I said, gesturing to a chair at the kitchen table. The same
chair he'd sat in as we talked away most of the afternoon we had spent
together almost two weeks before.

"One more thing," I said as he sat down, "I don't need for you to keep
saying you're sorry all the time. I need for you to tell me how you knew."

"OK," Paul said, looking sheepish, but obedient.

As he told me what had happened, I became the one who was looking sheepish.

"So Anne showed it to you and told you that I had written it? That's it. So
you didn't figure it out? She just told you? I was going crazy trying to
think how you figured it out. I thought maybe the picture of me that Justin
did, or . . ."

"Yeah, well that pretty much cemented any doubts I may have had. I was
confused because if the story is true then . . ." Paul went on to explain
how at first he thought I couldn't be the Jess from my story, even with
what Anne had told him.

H.R.'s security had pretty much worked just as H.R. had planned and
promised. But with the copy of the story I'd given to Anne, " . . . it just
had to be you. Plus the picture and a couple of things you told me about
yourself. The guys and girls stuff. You used almost the same words that
were in 'I Thought I Knew.'"

"But I didn't give Anne anything but that one chapter," I challenged.

"Jess, as soon as I started to read what Anne had given me, I recognized
it. 'I Thought I Knew' is . . . Let's just say I've read it more than
once. It changed my life. You changed my life."

I shook my head no. "That's not me. Well, it is about me and stuff that I
did, but guys think once they've read it they know me. And they don't. And
you don't. It's flattering when guys tell me stuff like you just did that I
changed your life or whatever . . ." I didn't know how to continue. I shook
my head doubtfully. "But you don't really know me at all."

Beyond that I was at a loss for what to say. He'd found out because I had
broken one of H.R.'s rules. I had told someone that I was the guy in the
story. He always said that if anyone found out, it would be because we told
them. Basically H.R. was right about that.

Paul and I sat across from each other at the kitchen table just looking at
each other. I wasn't mad at him anymore. If anyone was to blame in all of
this, I guess it was me. Paul had promised Anne that he wouldn't say
anything to anyone before he even knew what she was giving him. I could
understand that. He was trapped. He couldn't tell me. He probably shouldn't
have told me. But I was glad he had.

He'd certainly tossed Anne over for me. At least he didn't seem to have any
problem with the fact that I'd been part of the project. As best I could
tell, he actually thought it was pretty cool. I guess he wasn't playing me.

He explained how he had been trying to find a way through the box he was in
with Anne. Trying to find a way to get me to tell him about "I Thought I
Knew" instead of him having to . . . Well, having to do what he'd just
done. Tell me how he knew. Break his promise to Anne.

"I've been a real shit about all this," I finally said, looking up into
Paul's eyes. I hoped I would see something that would give me hope. Hope
that I could salvage something from the wreck I'd made of things.

"It's OK. I understand," Paul said. "You were scared and confused. I can
see how you thought I was scamming you or something like that. I just want
to be your friend. I want us to be back where we were when we woke up on
our first morning together. I like you, Jess. I like you a lot. I know how
forgiving you can be. After all, you . . ."

"Wait!" I cut him off mid-sentence. "Stop right there. Don't do this to
me. Don't be telling me you know this stuff about me. How could you know
that I'm . . . What was that word you said?"

"Forgiving?"

"Yeah, how can you say you know I'm 'forgiving'?" I asked.

"For one because of the way you forgave Billy when he tricked you so that
you'd catch him fucking Justin with that dildo. I don't know how you could
forgive somebody for doing something like that to you, but you did
it. You're an amazing . . ."

"No. No! NO! That's exactly what I'm talking about." I all but shouted at
Paul. "You think you know me because you read something H.R. wrote. It
didn't happen that way,"

He looked so surprised when I said those last words. "Well, it did, but it
didn't," I tried to explain. I wasn't mad at Paul. I really wanted to
explain this to him. I wanted him to understand what I meant.

"I don't remember exactly what H.R. wrote," I said as calmly as I
could. But memories of that day I walked in on Justin and Billy had added
to my . . .

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly and tried to begin again. "I do
remember that H.R. made it seem like I forgave Billy like a week after. He
made it seem like I said, 'Sure, Billy, it's OK that you invited me, your
best friend, a guy who thought he was in love with . . . invited me over to
your house so I'd catch you fucking another guy with a dildo. Just so you
could save yourself the inconvenience of telling me you loved someone
else.'

"Well, the truth is I hated Billy for months. At least two. I wished that
terrible things would happen. Like he'd get cancer, or catch AIDS, or go
blind, or get kicked out school for being such a perv and never get to
college. I was like that till I just couldn't hate Billy anymore.

"Believe me, Paul, you have no idea how unforgiving I can be."

"But you did forgive him, right?" Paul asked.

"Yeah, I did. When I'd exhausted all my anger and hatred and
frustration. But don't ever think you know me because of my story. I'm more
than just my story."

"I think I understand," Paul said, making it sound sort of like an apology.

"I want you to understand. I want you to get to know me to. But not because
of something you've read about me. I want you to get to know me like the
afternoon we talked so long sitting right here. Just saying what we
thought. Who we are. What we want and hope for."

With that I stood up and walked around to stand beside Paul and he stood to
join me. He turned toward me and gave me the greatest hug. It was exactly
what I needed. No words. No promises. No explanations. I needed him there
supporting me. Holding me. Caring for me. This me. Not some story version
of me. I was the Jess I wanted him to come to know.

I pulled back so I could look him in the face. What I saw was his almost
perfect face and expression. I could see in his eyes how he felt.

"Thanks," I said and kissed him. First with closed lips, but soon they
softened and opened and we let each other in.

Our kiss and embrace seemed almost dreamlike. After two weeks of such
turmoil and pain, this kiss was amazing. When finally we broke the kiss
. . . I feel so stupid saying this now . . . I felt like I wanted to tell
Paul I loved him.

Instead I smiled my special smile. The one I had reserved for Billy for so
many years. My best smile. And I said, "Paul, I . . ."

I stopped myself and thought for a moment.

"Paul, you're the best." That was enough.

To Be Continued . . .

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this project are real. The names and some
other identifying information in this story have been changed to conceal
the identities of the characters described. The Copyright for this story is
held by HardReader. The story may not be reprinted or distributed elsewhere
in print, electronically or digitally without the permission of the author.

I would love to receive comments on this story from readers. Email me at
hardreader2000@aol.com

While you're waiting for the next episode, I hope you'll stay happy. And
stay hard! -- H.R.