“Yeah, he’ll probably be down for the count this morning. Just me and you for a bit.” I smile at him. He smiles back with no trace of a blush, warm and fresh from bed.
So cute,Victoria comments.Piss off,I think back.
I settle for scrambled eggs with bacon for me and Jack—easy enough to make, and with enough caloric bang to keepus happy for a few hours. We sit at the dining room table, legs bumping, salt and pepper passed between us.
“Is it still okay for me to come shopping with you today?” Jack asks, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.
“Of course,” I agree, fidgeting with my fork, clinking it against the plate.
His rumpled clothes and bed head remind me of where he spent the night, and also remind me of the thoughts that kept me awake this morning. Stomach aching, I lay down my fork.
“Jack?”
“Mm?” he hums around a mouthful of egg, raising his eyebrows, eyes widening with the movement. He’s got such beautiful eyes, which only makes my stomach hurt worse. I’m an adult, and this is ridiculous. If I want him around more often, I need to ask for it.
“So, listen, I’ve been thinking—” I halt, trying to think through what I want to say. Less words and straight to the point is probably best. “Uh, how would you feel about grabbing dinner sometime?”
I groan internally. Apparently not dating for a few years makes it harder to pick the practice back up. Jack doesn’t even look embarrassed by the question, which means I’ve failed to impart on him the fact that I’m asking him out.
“Sure,” he replies, happily drinking from his mug. He’s throwing back that hot chocolate so quickly, he’s going to need a refill soon. “To Subway, again?”
I laugh. Oh hell, he’s too bloody cute.
“Well, no, I was thinking something nicer. Just me and you.” I pause, but not even that is enough for him to figure out where this is heading. It’s a good thing I haven’t eatenmuch this morning, or I’d be liable to vomit up my nerves. “Like a date, Jacko.”
His fork falls from his hand, clattering loudly against the plate and bouncing off onto the floor. Eggs scatter across the table, and I reach out to steady the mug before he sends it tipping over the side. The blush I’d been waiting for spreads across his cheeks like paint, red mixing with the freckles.
“What?” he asks, sounding so shocked I have a hard time holding back my laugh.
“I’d like to go out sometime,” I repeat, watching the color of his face turn alarming. “Just me and you.”
He gapes at me. Feeling like the hot chocolate is probably safe, I retreat back to my side of the table and wait for him to work through what I’m asking. It takes him a minute.
“Why?” is the next question to come out, which, thankfully, is pretty easy to answer.
“Because I like spending time with you.”
“Oh mygod,” he replies, looking thunderstruck.
“No drama if you aren’t into it,” I add, which makes him breathe in so sharply it hurtsmychest.
“I mean…yes, obviously, holy shit. You’re so”—he waves a hand in my direction, eyes wide, and shakes his head—“you.”
“Clears things right up,” I comment mildly, which makes him laugh, choked and a touch hysterical.
“Oh God,” he says, covering up his eyes with a palm. “I’m so awkward, though. You’ve met me, right?”
“I like it when you’re awkward,” I reply, which is a pretty awkward thing for me to say, to be fair. Jack drops his hand away from his face.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” he says on a sigh, before taking notice of the chunks of eggs scattered acrossthe table. The blush blooms heavy once more. “Oh fuck, sorry, I’ll clean it up.”
“Don’t worry about it, Jacko. We can grab you another fork, though.”
“Oh I can’t eat anymore. I’m freaking out way too much for food.”
My own untrustworthy stomach has settled enough for me to nibble on a piece of bacon, sitting back in my chair and grinning at him. He cups his palms and brushes them over the table, gathering stray eggs. Tipping them back onto his plate, he bends down to pick up the fork as well. That done, he drinks the last of his hot chocolate. With no other distractions immediately at hand, his eyes find mine again. I’ve never seen his face this red.
“I know you’re not messing with me, but it also feels like you might be messing with me,” he says. I shake my head.
