Day 19 - Friday
It wasn't until the show is over, when Jack realized that he was grinning like a mad man. True, the whole "Jenna is dead" thing had failed spectacularly…but nonetheless.
He wasn't exactly sure what he had to be so cheerful about. The show was still facing some serious budgetary issues; his pet movie project was pretty much as dead as Jenna's church group, and his mother was only a few hundred miles away.
Then, as he wandered aimlessly in the hallways, he solved it. It was the strains of someone shouting that clued him in.
Lemon.
Clearly, she was venting at the two celebrity morons who had once again succeeded in screwing up the entire order of things.
For about two and a half weeks now, Jack had been wondering what was so different about coming to work. Something appeared to be missing (aside from having a devoted assistant who wasn't in love with him at all, really), and he found himself avidly looking around for something or someone – he wasn't sure what – every once in a while. He was certain he'd know when he laid eyes on he/she/it, but still, it was really bugging him, because he simply couldn't find or figure out whatever it was that he sought.
At the sound of her words of frustration however, which seemed strangely cheerful, it all clicked into place.
Hesitantly, he walked closer towards the writer's room, only to almost be run over by Jenna and Tracey running for their lives. Paying them little attention, he continued to move forward. On her door, he could see a little certificate that stated "Sex Criminal".
Really, he had to talk to HR about their choice of vocabulary.
She hadn't seen him yet. Instead, she began to hum happily as she started to sort through the mail that had piled up on her desk in her absence. The bruises on her skin seemed to jump out vividly, making her look sickly and frail, but her eyes shone in happiness.
"You really should get those looked at." He said at last, realizing it was possibly very creepy to stand outside a woman's office and simply stare at her.
She yelped in fright, scattering paper all over the place.
"Jesus! Jack!" she breathed hard.
"Oops." He said, hardly looking contrite, hands clasped behind him.
"I'm just sorting through all this nonsense that came in the mail…" she said, calming down and turning back to the task at hand.
"Ooh look, a free set of recipes. Pies! Look how pretty!" she exclaimed, holding a postcard sized recipe up and waving it at him.
He wasn't sure what possessed him to do what he did next.
Closing the distance between the two of them, he reached out and pulled her into a gentle kiss, noting with satisfaction that he had stunned her into silence.
It was a chaste kiss, a meeting of lips and the barest hint of a tongue.
"Mmm." Was all she said.
"Indeed." He murmured, pulling away slightly, hands still clasped at her waist.
"Jack, are you trying to get me suspended again? Or are you trying to get two weeks off?" she asked.
"Lemon?" he said.
She looked at him expectantly.
"Don't ever do anything so stupid again; this place needs you."
I need you.
He didn't add that part.
"Ok." She replied softly.
Releasing her, he turned to leave her office. As he stepped out the door, conscious that she was boring holes into his back with her eyes, he said casually,
"Dinner tomorrow night. Wear a dress please – nothing with a belt."
She didn't reply; Jack wondered if she could hear his heart pounding in his chest.
She wore a belted dress; somehow, they still had fun.