It got really bad - or really, really good, depending on how one looked at it - really, really, really quickly. She was just glad that they were half-hidden by a partition, and hopefully, there were no children in the pub - and then she stopped caring. Alexander Fergusson kissed like he did everything else: with focus, determination, and irresistible attention to detail. She felt his tongue tease her lips open; and she arched into him, sinking her nails into his thigh, into which she'd pressed her hand to rise to reach his mouth.
Suddenly, he squeezed her shoulder - so painfully that she yelped into their kiss - and pushed her away.
"There's a bedroom–" he growled. "Bedrooms. It's a hostel. So either we go, or I need– to leave."
Jackie blinked, trying to gather some semblance of wits.
"What– "
"I can't stay near you," he rasped out. "I thought I could just kiss you. But I can't."
"But we've got all this food, and–" She heard what she was saying a second later. "Oh god, I don't even–"
Uncertain incoherent mumbling seemed to be all she was capable of; and he pulled her in again. Apparently, having spent a night with him had changed nothing: once again, like on her windowsill, she was being swept away by his 'ardour.' The experiences of said night weren't helping her composure either, since now she knew what could happen once she stopped worrying and let herself enjoy it fully - enjoy him fully.
She slightly pulled back, her hand on the back of his head, holding him in place; and she whispered into his ear, "Let's go."
He jerked away from her.
"Go wait for me," he barked at her and nodded towards the door further in the back of the lounge. "Through there."
He picked up his bag, and she realised that he was covering his tenting trousers with it. Her cheeks flushed. She could stop, think about the madness that she was allowing to overtake her, and the food, and how everyone would know what they were up to, and that he was fifteen years her younger, and the logistics of it. She'd always been the one to book tickets and rooms, first, when married to Gabe, and obviously for herself, before and after.
Instead, she climbed out of the booth, dashed towards the door he'd pointed at, and pushed it open. She was now in a small hall, with two toilets; a fire exit; and stairs, with a sigh that said 'Hostel' and an arrow at about 130 degrees.
Her knees were shaking; and then the door behind her flew open.
"Second floor."
Alexander grasped her hand and ran up the stairs, skipping every other step, towing her after him. All Jackie had left was to keep up. A corridor flashed in front of her eyes; the magnetic lock beeped and clicked; and he pushed her in. His bag hit the floor - and Jackie jumped at him.
***
"God, this is so embarrassing," she announced in an utterly pleased voice.
"What's embarrassing?" he asked.
She lay across the bed; he was using her backside as a pillow, his feet near the headboard. The actual pillows were scattered on the floor, mixed with their clothes. They'd taken them off after the first time, which they'd had on the floor, pretty much fully dressed, on the cover that he'd dragged off the bed for them. Her anxiety hadn't kicked in up until now, since he hadn't given her a break, and started kissing and touching everywhere, while unzipping and unbuttoning, and opening the second condom. He rubbed his cheek to her buttock; and she tensed.
"Asking for the key, and leaving so suddenly," she answered. "And our food is still there."
"Kadir will pack it," he answered.
"That's not what I mean. They'll know that we went here to have sex."
"They do," he agreed. "Kadir was the one who gave me condoms."
"Oh god." Jackie pressed her face into the sheet and groaned.
"I didn't have any on me," Alexander said. "I didn't know that I'd run into you."
Jackie stilled, digesting the information, and ordered herself not to read too much into his statement.
He lifted his head and started slowly kissing her lower back.
"Are you gearing up to another round?" she asked teasingly.
"No." He cupped her bottom and squished it a couple of times. "I fancy another go if you're up for it. But not right away. I just love your arse."
She could feel the little bites he was trailing on her posterior.
"I've gained a lot of weight," she blurted out.
He nuzzled her other buttock. "Are you upset about it?" he asked, probably looking for guidance on how to react to this piece of information.
"Yeah," she said, feeling utterly daft for having brought it up.
He rolled onto his side, supporting himself on his elbow, his cheek on his palm.
"You said it last time too." His tone was flat. "That you've got a hang up. I don't know how to react to it. You'll have to tell me if there's something you need." His gaze slowly moved down her shoulder, then her back, her backside and legs; and then he met her eyes again. "I like your body. I like touching it. And how you move."
"How do I move?" Jackie asked.
He reached for her - she was momentarily distracted by the thought of the core strength that was needed for this smooth move - and picked her up under her arms. He plopped her on top of him, and she laughed throatily.
"Ah, this kind of moving," she sing-songed and purposefully squirmed on him.
One of his rare smirks curled his lips.
"This is my favourite kind," he murmured and handed her the third square pack.
***
"I haven't been to a hostel in donkey's years," she said, pulling a duvet up over her chest.
He was relaxed on the bed next to her, on his stomach. "We stayed in one together in Year 11, in Edinburgh, during a school trip."
"Oh right, I remember! It was significantly more naff than this one," she added and glanced around the room. "This is almost a hotel, except no bathroom of course."
"Yeah. Pity. I'd like a shower."
Jackie wondered if he meant a shared one, but she knew by now how easily any sort of even a marginally shag-related discussion turned his mind to considering said activity, and how that instantaneously led to corresponding actions; so instead, she hummed noncommittally.
Jackie stretched her hand and stroked his right shoulder blade, tracing the large tattoo of a lighthouse.
"Does it have a meaning?" she asked softly.
"Yeah."
He shifted closer and pressed his forehead to her thigh. Jackie felt a wave of shame and inadequacy churn in her stomach. Firstly, all tattoos did; that was an idiotic question. Secondly, she'd clearly overstepped, which was additionally intrusive of her, considering the ambiguity of their relationship.
"This is Lange Nelle Lighthouse in Flanders," he said quietly. Jackie stared at his fluffy lashes, lying under his closed eye - she could only see one. "We lost one of our teammates in Syria. He was from Ostend," he continued evenly. "We all got it when we came back."
He rummaged under the duvet, and his scorching hand wrapped around her calf. Jackie swallowed a knot in her throat.
"If I get down and get our food, will you eat with me here?" he asked. "Or do you want yours packed separately?"
Jackie's eyes stung; and she pulled her leg out of his grasp, slid down on the bed, and pressed into him. He immediately hugged her tightly.
"I really like you," she mumbled and sniffled. "And I feel terrible."
He tenderly rubbed her nape with his thumb. "What do you mean? Physically?"
She gave out a shaky laugh. "Are you bloody mental? Physically I've never felt better. I have this surreal reaction to sex with you. Like my crisis doesn't stop. I get the first one, and it just sort of slows down, and then starts picking up again." She stopped in her tracks. "Sorry, that's not what we were talking about."
"I don't mind the topic," he said nonchalantly, and Jackie snorted.
"It's because you're twenty-seven and have the libido of a Shaw's jird."
"A what?"
"It's a small rodent that lives in Egypt and Morocco." Jackie snickered. "It can mate more than 220 times in two hours."
She could feel a chortle reverberate in his chest.
"Blimey. That's a lot." There was a note of admiration in his voice.
Jackie sighed and snuggled into him. "I do want to eat here with you. And I feel terrible because I rejected you before, and then I still slept with you. But I can't– can't stay away from you."
"You have nothing to feel terrible about," he said. "We're both consenting adults. You don't lie or hide anything from me. You can't make up your mind. It happens."
Jackie lifted her face, and he met her eyes.
"Does it happen to you?" she asked in a small voice.
"No. But I'm not normal."
"What?!"
"It's my ASD." He shrugged. "I get stuck. I have no perception of time. Things don't change in my mind. My tastes don't change either." He must have noticed her taken aback expression and added, "I do know that you are different from ten years ago. I fancy you the way you are now."
"That's great," Jackie dismissed, "but, Alexander, what sort of rubbish is this whole 'not normal' thing? No one is 'normal,' that's a load of bollocks!"
He calmly watched her, and she glared at him.
"Alexander!"
"Yes?"
"Just because you think differently, it doesn't mean your process is wrong." She cradled his jaw in her hand, and he leaned into her touch. "You have the most beautiful mind! It's not obvious to everyone, but it's because they are ignorant twats!" she scoffed. "I've seen what you can do, and it's like... music! Remember Silvester?" she asked strictly.
"The determinant identity in matrix theory?" he confirmed with a small confused frown.
"And Euler's totient function, and graph theory; but what I was thinking of was his quote on music. He said that mathematics were 'the music of the reason.'" Jackie tenderly stroked his cheek. "The musician feels mathematics, the mathematician thinks music: music the dream, mathematics the working life. I always tried to show it to my pupils, to make them see the elegance of it! The pure unadulterated beauty of mathematics. And you've got it in you! Your mind is that music of the reason! So, none of this rubbish, alright?"
"Alright," he said - and smiled at her.
Seeing it - his shining eyes, the crinkles near their corners, the dimples on his cheeks - felt like sticking one's face close to a classroom projector and turning it on.
She wanted to tell him that she was probably in love with him; and that she needed time to sort out her thoughts; but also, that she wouldn't be able to stay away from him completely - and then she remembered that he knew it all; and in his mind, in his own words, 'things didn't change.'
"Let's eat," she said.
He pecked her lips, readily rolled off the bed, and started collecting his scattered clothes. Jackie burrowed into the duvet and inhaled lungfuls of his smell.