A fortnight or so later...
"The vicar is the killer," Alexander stated.
"OK, firstly, yeah, he probably is," she said, snickering. "And secondly, how do you do that? That's the third time in a row."
His head was on her lap; and she was sure he'd had his eyes closed for the past half an hour. She'd been running her fingers through his hair just the way he fancied it, and it always seemed to put him into a sort of a trance: he was awake but completely motionless. She also suspected he only watched the series to indulge her; so his acuity astounded.
"A simple polynomial factorisation." His lashes fluttered open, and she met his lacklustre gaze. "Based on the screen time for each character," he continued. "And your emotional responses to the scenes."
"What?"
She gawked at him, and he pursed his lips. She'd learnt by now that it meant he thought he'd offended or upset her.
"What does that mean, Alexander? I'm curious. And it's brilliant by the way." She pushed her hand into his silky mane above his forehead. "This clever noggin of yours."
His expression relaxed.
"You sigh and hum, when you like a character; or if a scene is... touching." He stumbled over the last word. "In most cases it turns out to be the culprit. I assume it's by design."
Jackie snorted. "Do you mean to say the writers are playing me?"
He didn't answer - and she laughed harder.
"You're right. I'm simple that way." She shrugged. The gesture was new, she'd probably picked it up from him. "Especially if there's romance, or the character is close to my pupils in age."
"Or a parent," he added. "Especially a mother."
Jackie's hand haltered. That was a discussion she wasn't ready to start - especially considering that, while he had been climbing mountains in California, she'd renewed her contract with the fertility clinic. And of course she knew how unwise this head-in-the-sand approach was! But she needed more time!
She comforted herself that he surely was speaking statistically, simply taking stock of her reactions to the show, which he, apparently, had been observing - as opposed to empathising and guessing the underlying pattern of her emotions.
They went back to watching the telly; and indeed, the clergyman was the perpetrator.
"Should we watch something else?" Jackie asked. "What's the verdict on murder mysteries?"
"I like it that you like them," he gave her the response she'd already heard in regards to romcoms, costume dramas, and history documentaries.
"I want to find something we can both enjoy," she said stubbornly - definitely not for the first time either.
"I am enjoying it," he said. "Mostly you stroking me."
He pushed his head towards her in a keen semblance to Tartufo. The cat was probably in his new overpriced two-story wooden house that Alexander had guilt-bought and spent three hours building in Jackie's study. The feline still hadn't bestowed the man with a direct interaction, which entertained Jackie to no end; but the present had been accepted.
"I can do it if I'm reading a book too," she said with a chuckle. "So you can listen to your podcasts and don't have to force yourself to watch the telly with me."
"I'm not forcing myself." He frowned slightly. "I'm OK with the changes in my routine if you're the reason."
Jackie grinned. "You say the sweetest things!"
"I really don't. I'm not good at–"
He didn't get to finish his usual self-criticism, because she cupped his face, bent down, and kissed his nose.
"Shush," she murmured. "You're absolutely perfect."
He lifted his long arm; his scorching palm lay on the back of her neck; and he led her to his lips.
A few minutes later, dishevelled and out of breath, Jackie stretched on top of him. For once, he seemed to be satisfied with just a spot of copping off, probably because they'd already 'done the deed' twice earlier in the day.
"The next episode started," she muttered.
He glanced at her, his eyes half-lidded. "The teacher is the killer. The poison was in her Victoria sponge."
"Really?" Jackie exclaimed.
The left corner of his lips twitched.
"Not the foggiest," he deadpanned. "I wasn't paying attention. There might not be any teachers in the story."
"Oh you!" Jackie lightly smacked his chest.
He mimicked her nose kiss from before and turned to the screen. Jackie ogled him: from his thick short beard, to the eyebrows with a crinkle between them, to the fluffy eyelashes. She'd done a proper job tousling his hair; and his dark curls were scattered on the pillow.
"I only listen to podcasts when I work out," he said following the action on the screen with his eyes. "Or when I clean."
"Oh." Jackie settled her cheek on the back of her hand on his chest. "What about music? We haven't discussed our tastes in music."
"Still the same as in–" he started.
Her phone rang somewhere on the first floor, probably in her study where he'd been helping her to move bookshelves and they'd ended up getting frisky in her Queen Anne armchair.
"Sorry, sorry," she muttered, sliding off him. "Hold the thought! I want to know!" she shouted, rushing to the stairs. "Were you going to say, the same as in the Comprehensive? Techno music, right? That electronic music that you told me about when–"
She realised that he couldn't possibly hear her now. She felt amused by her own antics: that was a teen level of clinginess - not wanting to separate even for a minute, she thought. The phone continued its trilling; and Jackie, first, searched the study, and then moved to the bedroom. She found the gizmo on her vanity. She must have carelessly shoved it there when they'd moved from the wingback to her bed.
Gabe.
She silenced the mobile, and the screen kept glowing - and then she saw the voicemail icon pop up in the corner. Jackie hated voicemail messages. Her thumb hovered over the home button, and she chewed her bottom lip.
"Jackie?" Alexander called from downstairs.
Jackie wiggled the thumb above the screen, and then pressed the button on the side; and, leaving the phone behind, she returned to the sitting room. She climbed back on the sofa; and he readily opened his arms, inviting her to take the same position as before.
"I still listen to techno," he said, and she understood that he was answering the questions that she'd hollered while dashing upstairs. "It relaxes me," he continued. "It's basically maths expressed in sound. And it keeps me out of my head. Helps with training too."
"Yes, I remember that!" Jackie exclaimed. "We went on that school trip to Edinburg. And you suddenly dropped on a seat next to me on the coach and offered me the earphones. And after I listened to six minutes of noise, you ventured into a lecture of how a multilevel rhythm was a collection of well-formed, perfectly balanced inscribed polygons."
He slowly faced her - and Jackie saw frantic red stains of blush on his cheekbones and the burning tips of his ears.
"Oh dear! It was good, don't get me wrong!" Jackie tried to reassure him. "I looked it up afterwards! It was such an interesting idea! And something I knew nothing about!"
"It was M.A.N.D.Y.," he muttered.
"Pardon?"
"The producer. I wanted to share it with you." He once again faced away from her. "Like a confession, I reckon. I didn't know how else to show you that I–" He swallowed, and his throat bobbed in agitation.
Jackie dropped her forehead on his sternum.
"I'm sorry I called it 'noise,'" she whined into him. "I loved it. The music and the maths behind it. And if you shared it with me now, I could appreciate how romantic it is," she implored. "I just couldn't then. I'm sorry!"
He was quiet, and she peeked at him. He was still adorably pink.
"Will you let me hear your favourites now?" she asked and gently clawed at his chest. "It's not something I listen to myself, but I'd love to learn more about your tastes. And talk about polygons with you."
He was still industriously staring at the screen, and she decided to up the stakes.
"And about dissonance curves?" she asked and slid her hand down his body. "Spread partials?" She mimicked tiptoeing with her fingers, on his stomach - and then even lower. "Euclidean rhythms?"
"You also said on that trip that ice cream was your most favourite food," he grumbled and finally met her eyes.
Jackie froze, with her heart thumping in her ears. Surely, he wasn't implying what she thought he was implying... was he?
"What? Is that why–" She struggled to put the thought into words. "Is that when you got interested in ice cream?"
"I created Sugar Cloud for you," he said in a grave tone. Jackie gasped - and then he barked a shocking careless laugh, warm and rumbly. "Jackie, my family have been dairy farmers for seven generations. A dairy scientist degree made sense; and the supply chain was well-established in the county."
"Oh, right." Jackie giggled nervously. "Of course, of course. Silly me."
He cradled her face, tenderly; and after two seconds of her gazing at him, loved-up and slightly embarrassed, he squished her cheeks a couple of times. "Silly you." There was still a small smile dancing on his lips; and Jackie's heart fluttered. "And yes," he added. "I want to talk about a Fourier analysis of some tracks. Also, there's a cool thing about the Lorenz attractor in terms of sound. And there's an additive synthesis approach in harmonics in some sub-genres." His voice was getting more lively. "And did you know, there are two types of reverb? Algorithmic, which calculates everything via maths; and convolution, which uses an impulse response to capture the natural sound of a room and superimpose it on another sound."
"Wait, wait," she interrupted him. "Start with the Lorenz attractor."
He picked her up under her arms, like a kitten; sat up; and plopped her back on her lap. Jackie once again thought she needed to start working out - even though he repeatedly claimed that he loved her flabby stomach. She shifted and wrapped her legs around him.
"So, basically," he started.
***
When they were falling asleep, Jackie asked, "Are you going for a run tomorrow morning?"
"I do every day," he answered. "I brought my gear."
"Can I go with you? I won't be able to keep up, but we can start together." She nuzzled his shoulder. "I'm doing yoga these days, but I want something a bit more intense."
"Sure."
There was a pause; and she'd been getting quite versed in his pauses.
"What is it?" she asked and stroked his pec. She was so very fond of the pecs.
"Someone might see us."
"Ah yes." Jackie hummed. "I can't believe that we still haven't been officially caught. You're so gropy."
"You kissed me in the back of the shop during work hours," he pointed out.
"I did. And I'll do it again," she said proudly. "And I'm OK with people seeing us." She halted for a second. "I told Oliver. And Viola."
His hand under her buttock twitched. "You did?"
"Yeah." She stretched and kissed his cheek. "I don't think either of them will gossip, though. Oliver told me that he'd had trouble with the grapevine here himself; so he's discreet. Viola is my GP. So it's not common knowledge yet. But I'm working up towards it."
He studied her face and then nodded.
"Let's go for a run tomorrow."