I wake up with a fresh perspective. My goal is to try my best to see Jack in a new light. Try to give him the chance to prove his worth as a man capable of being in a relationship. Show him that I can be open to what he has to say and not get so pissy all the time.

Throwing on some comfy clothes, I take note of the delicious coffee smells wafting their way upstairs. I love the smell of coffee. It’s my second favorite smell, following wine. The aroma wakes me up and gets my senses going.

Walking into the kitchen, I’m surprised that no one else is here. The coffee pot is full, and there are fresh blueberry muffins on the counter. I listen for anyone, but hear nothing. “That’s weird,” I mutter to myself as I shrug my shoulders.

“Morning, Jenny.” I’m startled by his presence and his voice. It’s deep and guttural and not what I was expecting. My body jolts back in surprise. Unfortunately, in my surprised state my coffee mug drops to the floor. I can hear it hit the wide pine boards and shatter into various sized pieces.

I turn around to face him and he literally takes my breath away. I mentally punish myself for sounding so damn cliché. But one look at him and my entire being reacts.

He looks so fucking good it physically hurts to breathe. I try to take in a mouthful of air before speaking but it actually stings. It’s as if my lungs are warning my heart to watch the fuck out and be careful.

“Oh, shit, Jenny. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” I watch him walk toward me with concern as I search for something to say. He has on running shorts, sneakers, and no shirt. His chest and arms are covered in tattoos ranging from simple to complex.

He’s sweaty from an early morning run, and my eyes are fixated on the beads that are slowly dripping down. I watch one pause at his chin before dropping to his chest. It slides down his right pectoral muscle as my gaze fixes on his tattoo.

It’s a sword that’s wrapped in vines and grape leaves. I briefly ponder what the significance is. It can’t be a random one so it must mean something.

As the bead continues its descent, I feel my tongue peek out. It’s begging to take a lick. My mind fantasizes tasting that trail of sweat and savoring his salty goodness. “Hey, are you ok? You seem a bit dazed. I’m really sorry for scaring you.” His voice is a virtual slap to refocus.

My mouth is dry but I manage a few words. “Ummm…yeah…I’m fine. Guess, I got rattled there for a minute. I better get this cleaned up.” It’s the perfect excuse to turn around and stop ogling. I reach for a towel to help gather up the ceramic pieces. Jack is right here helping me clean up the shards that scattered everywhere.

“Be careful, Jenny Bean, it's sharp and….” He doesn’t have time to finish what he’s saying because my finger is bleeding.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. That friggin’ hurts!” What started off as a light trickle is now a fully fledged stream of red blood. And it kills. Who would have thought a tiny cut would hurt so much?

I shake my hand vigorously, but it does nothing for the pain. Placing my finger in my mouth, I try to stop the bleeding. The taste is bitter on my tongue but the pressure helps.

My eyes shut tight to help deal with the throbbing pain. That’s when I feel him touch me. His hands are soft and gentle, much different from the last few times he had them on me. My eyes slowly open as he takes my finger away from my mouth and puts it in his. His gaze is haunting and mesmerizing. It’s not a look that I can easily turn away from, nor do I want to.

The longer I match his stare the more I see. It’s the real Jack. Not the superficial surface one that he allows people to see. This is him, the layers underneath his facade.

They show lingering memories, levels of depth, sadness and self-truths, moments of pain, hurt, and brightness. When I look at him, I sense an overwhelming need to unlock them. More importantly, I think he wants me to. I settle into the fact that there’s more to him that he wants me to see.

My hazy mind regroups as the sucking sensation from his mouth has pretty much absolved the pain. The only thing I’m thinking about now is how good he can suck. Carefully, he removes my finger and places it in front of him. “Here, let me take a look at that.” Carefully, he rotates my finger around and examines it. I’m surprised to see that the bleeding has stopped. “It looks okay. I don’t think you need any stitches. Let’s just clean it up and put on a Band-Aid.”

I can only nod as he walks me over to the sink. Gently, he washes it with soap and water and pats it dry with the towel. We are both quiet, which is oddly strange because we usually never stop talking. There’s something calming and peaceful about him taking care of me. I’m so used to doing things for myself or helping others. I never welcomed anyone doing anything for me. It’s weird but I like it.

I let out a breath while I focus on what’s going on between us. The way he holds my hand shows care, like he’s had practice with this. There’s no annoyance or rush by him. He’s genuine and purposeful with his touch. My heart melts a bit more and warms up to his closeness.

Jack clearly has a story to tell that I want to hear. Hopefully, he’ll want to share it with me. However, I’ve known him since Ben brought him home when I was seven; he hardly ever lets his guard down. This is a rare moment and by keeping my motor mouth shut, I’m allowing it to naturally progress.

My foot lightly stomps the floor in an attempt to control my tongue. Jack’s head pops up and breaks the silence. “Where’s your first aid kit?” His eyes are on me waiting for an answer. The silence is illuminating, as if I've learned more about him in these few minutes than I ever have before.

I motion my hands toward the drawer next to the sink. “It should be in the drawer on the left. Mom usually keeps it in there.” Jack takes me with him, never breaking our contact.

“Okay, let's see what we can find.” I watch him try to open up the kit with just one hand and it makes me chuckle. “Jack. I think you can let go of my hand now. I’m ok. Look, the bleeding has stopped.” I try to remove my hand, but he just squeezes it tighter.

Keeping his head down and focused on the latch, he speaks softly to me. “I know you’re okay…I just don’t want to let you go yet.” I feel my breath hitch as I bite my lower lip. He probably doesn’t have a clue, but those words tell me more than he’ll ever know.

It’s not just a physical attraction between us. We are more than that. Perhaps it’s something that I’m not supposed to understand yet. Maybe, just maybe, I should let it play out and see where things lead. I squeeze my eyes shut to keep myself from over-analyzing. Stop Jenny. Problem is I can’t.

My inner ramblings are interrupted again by his sweet voice as he wraps the bandage around my finger. “Jenny, are you going to say something? Anything? ‘Cause you look like you want to and I really want to hear what you have to say.”

Shrugging my shoulders, I squeeze his hand in return, hoping to buy myself a few extra minutes of silence. But it’s no use. His head looks up at me and I need to say something. I open my mouth and begin, “Jack…then…,” but I have to pause. The way he’s staring at me prompts me to touch his face. Cautiously, I reach my other hand up to cup his cheek. My thumb brushes across his lips and stays there. Taking in a shaky breath, I let my thought out along with a leap of faith. “then… don’t let go.”

I feel and watch his lips softly kiss my resting thumb before he places it over his shoulder. Gingerly, he takes my hurt hand and places it over the other one. His hands wrap around my waist to pull me closer. As our faces meet, he slightly turns his away so that his lips graze my cheek and ear. His head settles into the crook of my neck. He has drawn me into a sweet and tender hug.

It’s a warm and inviting hug. It’s the kind that emits unspoken feelings and emotions, the ones that can be too hard to say out loud. His body is flush with mine as we stay locked in our embrace. I can feel all of him against me but yet it’s not overtly sexual. We are hugging for more than that. We are holding on to each other with the promise of more.

My head turns into his neck and I allow my lips to linger there. After several seconds I lift them to his ear; “What are we going to do, Jack? For once in my life I have no witty comeback for you. I don’t have words to say.” His head lifts slightly so that he’s in line with my ear. His breath tickles it as he whispers to me. “Then don’t say anything. Just let it be." Then he says something that melts me, "Be with me Jenny.”

My grip on him grows tighter and he matches my hold. Our bodies gradually begin to rock in a gentle sway. Neither of us wants to break the contact so we don’t. We sway to our own beat that’s synced in time to our hearts and breaths. It’s a unique rhythm that’s all our own. After all, we’ve been nothing close to ordinary, and I’m starting to see how I wouldn’t want it any other way.