"I honestly don't know what to do. But please, don't be angry with me," Jackie said pleadingly.
"I'm not," he said curtly. "Not with you. It's my problem."
"Could we–" Jackie stretched her hand to him again, but halted, not sure if her touch was welcome. "Could we please talk? If it's OK with you. But I just– You're right." She nodded morosely. "I'm not good at conflict. If it's not work. I'm brilliant at work conflict resolution," she couldn't help but to amend.
"You are. It's super sexy."
She whipped her face up and gawked at him.
"Wha-at?"
He gave her his signature blank look. He'd been correct, of course: she was an insecure muppet, desperate for validation and praise. For example, she would properly like him to elaborate on his previous statement.
"What's that?" she pressed on, peering into his face.
"You're hot when you're at work," he admitted grudgingly. Jackie pressed her lips to stop herself from grinning. "Ethan said you aced the football grant meeting," he continued. "Rhys Holyoake eats out of your hand. I saw your official photo on the school Instagram. I got hard."
"What?!"
He side-glanced at her. "That was a joke."
"Oh, I see." Jackie tried to keep disappointment out of her voice - and then she asked herself whether one night with Alexander Fergusson had turned her into a nymphomaniac.
"We can talk," he said and nodded towards the table. "How's your hand?"
"It doesn't even hurt," she lied. "Is the porridge ready? You probably need to eat. You mentioned last time that being hungry makes it harder for you."
He studied her face for a few seconds.
"What?" Jackie asked, blushing now.
"Why don't you want to date me?" he deadpanned.
She had almost started reassuring and squawking that, of course, she wanted it - and then she paused.
"You aren't talking about the emotional part of it, innit?" she carefully clarified.
"I don't understand your question," he grumbled.
"Right, yeah." Jackie came up to the table and sat down heavily. "When you ask me about dating, you mean– Like, dates and– sex, right? I'm sorry, I know it's ridiculous to ask you to define it and to give it a label at this stage!" she exclaimed. "We've only slept together once, and– I'm sorry!"
He leaned his back against the counter, his face aloof, his eyes on the opposite wall.
"I'm doing it again, innit?" Jackie gave out a nervous laugh. "Apologising and not giving you time to respond. Alright, let me try again." She intertwined her fingers and took a grounding breath. "I loved it last night. I've never felt so good before."
That got his full attention. The man truly switched in a blink of an eye, didn't he? Jackie squirmed on her chair under an intense gaze of his darkened eyes.
"And it wasn't because– because you were upset," she mumbled. "I do have trouble saying 'no' to men, but it's just because I don't ever have to. Maybe, I do get swept over, but I did want– you. I wanted you."
That did it.
"Oh dear," Jackie gasped when he picked her up under her arms and plopped her backside on the table.
"Tell me to stop, if you still want to talk," he snarled and bit her other shoulder.
"I don't think–" Jackie whined and pushed her hands into his thick glossy curls. "I don't think I do."
That was all he needed.
***
"That was revelational," she announced, staring into the ceiling.
He rubbed his nose to her bare sternum. He'd jerked her robe open earlier, without untying the belt; and somehow it made her feel lush and seductive, instead of worrying about being trussed across like a Finocchiona salami.
"Where are your cleaning supplies?" he asked in a business-like tone, and Jackie burst into gleeful guffaws.
"Shut up and enjoy the afterglow," she murmured tenderly and stroked his cheek with her thumb.
"Then we need to move," he said.
He straightened up, and she caught a glimpse of him cringing. At some point they'd pushed everything off the table, making space for their 'acrobatics'. More so, some 'evidence' of their debauchery might have gotten on the floor as well. She could definitely feel some on her legs. Never had she ever imagined that she'd be that blasé after performing such a risqué act.
"Alright, this is the plan," she said, stretching her hand to him, and wiggling her fingers. "Help me up, and go to the bedroom. I'll clean up, me and... here." She vaguely waved her hand in the direction of the debris. "I'll bring us a tray, and we can talk while we eat."
"In bed?" he asked, doubt on his face.
He still hadn't taken her hand. She decided that clawing at his stomach playfully was a better option anyroad, so she proceeded to do exactly that.
"Yes, Alexander, I do eat in bed," she drew out teasingly. "I also have tea with biscuits in a bubble bath while reading a book. And sometimes I snack at three o'clock at night, mostly on crisps. That's why I don't have a perfect body like all these fit gingers in Fleckney."
He blinked twice. She could see his internal struggle so clearly that she suddenly wondered why she'd ever thought that men were hard to handle.
"Say that my body makes you randy and compliment one thing," Jackie said and chortled. "That should suffice."
"Your body makes me randy, and I think about biting your backside every time I see it," he announced diligently, and Jackie roared with laughter. "Wait, that wasn't a compliment," he said, frowning now. "You have gorgeous tits, and they fit perfectly into my hands."
Now, he'd done it - Jackie was sliding off the table, shaking and howling; and he'd caught her and picked her up.
"And you aren't heavy," he added, and she wrapped her arms around his neck and firmly kissed him.
***
After a quick shower together and another quarter hour in bed, she'd untangled out of his grip and went to the kitchen to deal with the 'crime scene.' She then quickly whisked up a breakfast for them; and they were now sitting, back on the bed, in pleasant silence, while their mouths were preoccupied with what human mouths were originally made for: biting, chewing, and swallowing sustenance.
"Will I spoil the afterglow if I ask you again?" he said quietly.
Jackie was spreading wild blueberry jelly on a slice of toast, and she halted and peered at him.
"Ask me what? Oh, I see," she immediately answered herself. "Regarding dating."
Alexander nodded. Jackie distractedly cut the slice into narrow pieces and picked one up.
"May I have one?" he asked.
"Sure." Jackie nudged the plate towards him. "You absolutely can, but I did make you two slices of your own."
"I want yours," he said and took a generous bite of a soldier.
"Because it's mine?" she asked and crunched with another toast strip. He nodded, and Jackie leaned in and kissed his cheek. His thick short beard scraped at her lips. "It's cute. You're cute, Alexander."
He didn't answer and took a dignified sip of his brew. Jackie scooped a spoonful of jam and stuck it in her mouth. She sucked and then slowly pulled the spoon out. The fact that he was observing her from the corner of his eye didn't escape her.
"I love spending time with you," she blurted out, and his hand with a tea cup hovered above the tray. "I do. I enjoy it so much," she continued. "Anything we do together is fun. The maze; and eating breakfast together; and sex, of course! And I'm starting to think that you might actually fancy me. I know, I know," she exclaimed before he could interrupt her. "You've been saying it all along. It's just that it had never happened before!"
She stopped, gobsmacked by the truth of what she'd just said. Also, she appreciated that he was allowing her to ponder it for a few seconds, watching her quietly.
"You know how you often say that something is your issue? Well, this is my issue. Accepting that someone could like me. For who I am as a person, as a woman." She sighed. "But at this stage, I can't imagine why you would be lying about it. And there's nothing you could possibly need from me, nothing that you're lacking. You're young, talented, and minted. Unless you've got this very specific kink - a middle-aged woman giving you a thigh job on a kitchen table–" He froze, staring at her, his cheek protruding with toast; and Jackie snickered. "I reckon, you must really fancy me," she finished.
She shook crumbs off her hands and sighed again.
"What I'm trying to tell you is that I've gotten to know you, and I respect you too much to assume that you're confused, or don't know what you want, or simply trying to knob me to mark off a shag bingo card." She saw his eyebrows jump up questioningly. "Don't ask," she muttered. "I've worked in an all-boys school, and you wouldn't believe the things I've seen."
He'd gotten dressed again, in his jeans and his tee, and was sitting over her duvet. She'd tucked her legs under it to stay warm. There was something surreally right about him being in her bedroom, his long legs stretched along the edge of the bed, his ankles crossed.
She shifted closer and tenderly touched his forearm.
"Alexander, I do, very much so, like you too," she said earnestly. "I truly do. So the answer to your question is I do. I do want to date you. But I can't."