AN: I know that in the Maine even I kept up with using the name Odette until the end but here as I think she too needs to get used to a new name, I'll begin to incorporate it little by little. I hope it doesn't distrub the reading much.
And of course thanks for the review. They are truly apprechiated.
The back of Jess' fingers traced her face as he studied her, having never really before had the chance to take her in fully, with all the time in the world. Her smooth fawn-toned skin glowed, her cheeks slightly flushed, a couple of tiny freckles on her nose, another few on her cheeks. She didn't wear any makeup, as far as he could tell, just her natural self, not hiding the minute imperfections. Her small button-nose squinted as she observed his expressions in return. When the tip of his finger gently touched her tempting lips, her mouth bit onto his finger playfully. He even appreciated the small lines in the corner of her eyes and the lines that became visible on her cheeks when she smiled - making her just seem real. He was not in his twenties either. He couldn't help but wonder what she thought of this, of him - it had been years as he'd been so worried about things like that. What conversations went on behind those green eyes?
"What about Este?" he finally spoke, having appreciated the opportunity to suggest what to call her. He'd actually really loved the name Odette, recognizing the name from a Proust novel and it was definitely uncommon. But he understood the need to change it. Either way, as long as it was the same person, it didn't really matter to him.
"Not bad, you'll have to try it out to see how it sounds some time," she replied, her fingers still running along his neck and through the back of his hair.
"You know if you keep that up, we won't ever leave the bed, right?" Jess stated with a crooked smile. He'd almost forgotten the time, the grumble of his stomach reminding him that he'd been in fact starving already before.
"There are worse ways to go," she chuckled with a wink, certainly not making it easy for him. She was starving too, but the way she felt with him in bed like this, flesh on flesh, seemed more essential right now.
"Come on, let's make some food, the bed is not going anywhere tonight," he suggested, somewhat reluctantly, pulling her up along with him, landing one more deep kiss on her lips, clearly running on an endorphin rush.
"Where's your bathroom?" she asked, beginning to look for her panties.
"Just by the kitchen," Jess replied, "and if you want something comfortable to wear, help yourself," he added gesturing towards his dresser, with his suits and dress-shirts hanging over it on a rack made of pipes.
"Okay, thanks," she smiled at him, not bothering to hide herself, and walked towards the bathroom, her panties in her hand, a notable swing in her hip, leaving him speechless. She was so different than any of the women he had ever dated - not an ounce of wilingness to hide, oozing confidence.
Jess pulled on a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, and headed for the kitchen to get a head start. He gulped down a glass of water with a satisfying slurp and then began to prepare their meal, deciding on a recipe, from the top of his head, that was fairly hands off in it's cooking process.
She emerged from the bathroom some minutes later in her underwear, which she would've been fine with wearing, loving to be a bit of a tease, but since it was a little chilly, the rain still pouring down outside, she browsed through his drawers, settling for a black The Distiller t-shirt, that almost covered her hips.
"So I'm finally getting to see you cook," she commented, adding, "anything I can do to help?"
"You can grab some wine from the fridge if you want," he added, giving her a small peck on the lips. It was distracting being in the kitchen with her, but he tried to focus, wanting to impress her a little. It was something primal - as if wanting to provide for her, at least in this very modern version by cooking her dinner.
"Sure, but I don't want you to think my hands fall off if I were to actually do some cooking," she noted as she poured them two glasses of organic Pinot Grigio. She'd dealt with presumptions all her life, people assuming what a girl with her background might and might not do, buy or consume. And for quite a while she'd almost wanted to prove everyone wrong. She'd grown up significantly from that time though, now knowing already what she liked and what she didn't, and not particularly bending her convictions for other people. But doing things herself, and trying new things she didn't yet know how to do, was always to her more of a matter of pride, the assumption that she could be useless in a certain situation, whether that involved doing the dishes or changing the windshield wipers on a car hurting her somehow more than the rest.
"Oh yeah," Jess teased, as he had just rubbed the chicken with seasoning and was frying them in the oven pan. "Get me a couple of cloves of garlic then," he suggested, noting at the basket in front of her.
She did one better than that, placing almost half of garlic onto the cutting board and slamming her wrist down on top of it. With a few swift movements she picked out the slightly crushed cloves and threw them into the pan Jess was moving on the stovetop.
"Hey-hey-hey," he scolded playfully, lifting his chin authoritatively, for the intrusion into his playing field.
"It looks a little dry," she critiqued, pouring the contents of her own wineglass into the mix without warning.
"Hey, come on! I was getting to that," he rebuked, unable to stay mad at her, rolling his eyes. He tossed the aubergine into the pan, added a sprinkle of salt, pepper and parmesan along with oregano and thyme, mixed everything, and placed the pan into the oven. He finally took his own wine glass, and drank a large sip, as she'd already helped herself to pour another.
"So, I think we have about two weeks worth of catching up to do," he began smilingly, and he even didn't mean the physical - not that he would object, but he quite frankly wanted to know everything about her. She was anything but what he'd expected for someone going along with a pretend marriage with Logan Huntzberger, surprising him at every turn. "Did you learn to cook yourself or is that something French girls are born with?" he asked.
"A little bit of both I suppose. My mom never cooked, but we had wonderful chefs with good produce around, some which didn't mind me hanging around the kitchen. And well…the internet helps," she explained. Family had a big part in the way she had turned out to be, and that was one of the most difficult things with cutting all ties - she needed to find another way to explain herself, without bringing them up.
Jess considered for a moment whether he should touch the family subject again. Surely next to the freedom she'd gained from those horrible people, it was still family, still her flesh and blood, and in a way he imagined she must been grieving as well, feeling very alone. He knew what that was like, even though for him that moment had been decades ago. He even considered maybe she'd come to him today as a way of overcompensating a little, just not wanting to feel alone. But he didn't want to believe it, and brushed the thought aside, not wanting to ruin their celebratory evening.
"What's your absolutely favourite food?" he continued, trying to keep the topics lighter.
"Tough one," she pondered, "I guess if I had to pick something I am a sucker for poached eggs, but if I never had to think about calories I guess pavlova with fresh berries," she noted, raising her eyebrows to ask the same question in return. While some of the food that she enjoyed was a little posh, it didn't necessarily mean she only preferred that.
"I'm not as fancy," he noted, "I guess pizza is always a good comfort food, but I prefer to make my own rather than order in," he added.
"I'll expect to be well-fed then," she smirked, stepping teasingly close again and reaching up for a half-innocent kiss.
"Is there anything you don't eat?" Jess continued on the lighter subjects.
"I'm not crazy about the smell of liver, but I've eaten it. Oh, and I am one of those people to whom cilantro tastes like soap," she listed, after some thinking.
"I can't even think of anything, no allergies or such at least," Jess commented.
They continued along the lines of typical 'get to know you' questions, whether they prefered to cook, order in or go out, what drinks they enjoyed, what was the best restaurant they'd ever been to, and what sort of cooking related mishaps they'd experienced. She could see what he was doing - this was something she'd experience a lot of foreign guys - the first couple of dates really only scratching the surface, but she didn't mind it, overall she knew that with him the surface questions were not a waste of time.
Jess was just checking the contents of the oven, noting that it'd be still a few minutes before the meal was ready, when his phone rang. He wasn't really expecting anyone to call on a Friday evening.
"Hi," he picked up, noting that it was Rory, who was calling. He glanced briefly over to Odette, who was looking around his book shelf at the time, her long bare legs still distracting him notably.
"Hey, Jess," Rory greeted. "Listen, I just wanted to invite you to our housewarming party on the 21st," she added.
"Sure, that's a Saturday, right?" he noted, recalling her telling him about their moving plans. That was in two weeks and he was likely going to be in NY then anyways.
"It is," she confirmed. "Doing anything fun this evening?" Rory asked casually. She sounded a little apologetic, perhaps of the way their last call had ended.
He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to burst their little bubble. "Yeah, I am. I'm sort of in the middle of cooking right now, do you mind if we talk more on Monday. I wanted to call you about a new title anyways," he added.
"Sure, enjoy!" Rory added before disconnecting.
"That was Rory," he explained, a little apologetically. "She invited me to their housewarming," he added.
"Oh," she reacted. "I'll be there too probably," she added. They'd talked before about his and Rory's past but there were still aspects that she was curious of.
"Listen, I know you and Rory are friends, but do you mind telling me the short version of how close you were. I just feel like I'm in the dark a little, and you two seem to have a strong friendship ongoing, so questions are bound to rise in my head," she explained, hoping it was a touchy topic for him.
"Oh, okay," he sighed, a little taken aback by her questions. "We were 17, god, we were kids basically," he began. "She was with someone else, I think her first boyfriend, but I guess we sort of fell for each other despite that. When she finally broke up with him we went out for quite a while, but then at some point my personal crap got the better of me and I shut her out, even skipped town without telling her and went to LA to see my dad... I was awful," he said regretfully.
She could see the regret in his face and she almost felt bad for asking. "Did you love her?" she inquired.
"I did," he sighed, "and I'll be honest, I did for years, even when we were broken up. I even tried to talk her into taking off from Yale with me. That would've been also utterly stupid," he confessed. "But in a way I think that was me just being sorry for my actions, trying to make it up for my mess to her somehow," he added. He wasn't going to tell about the kiss between them that had happened years later. Rory had been such a mess then, and considering the issue was her current husband, he felt it wasn't his place to tell.
"Was she good in bed?" she asked boldy. The question was surely a little uncomfortable, but she almost wanted to see his reaction, in her experience the reaction often speaking louder than the words.
"I never got that far with her actually - as I said, we were young," Jess replied.
"Oh, I sort of figured you did," she commented. She had to admit that made her feel a little relieved.
"I guess she was a little bit of a late bloomer," he commented.
"So how was the first time you had sex, Jess?" she asked a little seductively, wrapping his hands around her waist, while she stroked his strong arms.
"Did anyone ever tell you that you ask a lot of very personal, most likely embarrassing, questions?" he laughed. "But if you really want to know, I'll tell you," he added.
"Hey, it's just sex," she smirked, "I just think it's good topic for getting to know someone," she added, being a firm believer of getting all of the awkwardness on the table.
"Okay, sure, but I'll get the dinner out of the oven first," he noted, reluctantly releasing his hold on her. The way she was approaching these things baffled him - she didn't seem to be afraid of the awkward, or the physical, and somehow her resilience reflected onto him as well, wanting to see where these questions led.
As they finished their dinner, having gone through Jess' fairly embarrassing story from his teen years, resulting in having been very nearly caught in the act by his mother, with a round of other related follow up questions from her part.
He opened another bottle of wine, the first one already having turned into a pleasant but weak buzz in their heads.
"Your turn," he smirked back at her.
"I was 16, I was on a summer holiday in Nice," she began, "a holiday-fling you may say. He was the property holder's son, some years older, very handsome. Dark hair, good build, a little like you actually," Odette added raising the corner of her mouth teasingly.
"Oh, really?" he raised his eyebrows, beginning to see how the conversation was indeed a good icebreaker, not that there was much ice left to break.
"And one night after a party, I ended up in his room. The room itself was messy, you know a guy's bedroom after all. But he knew what he was doing. The actual sex didn't last very long but he was nice enough to go down on me to make sure I enjoyed myself," she explained.
"I'm sorry for asking this, but I think I need to know," he began after a few moments. While the discussion was leading to all sorts of other more fun ideas he'd rather be doing to her, having talked about Rory had raised some other questions in his mind. "Did you ever sleep with Huntzberger?" Jess asked.
"I did, but it wasn't ever romantic. He thought Rory was gone from his life and we just figured for the sake of the pretence it was better if we didn't go looking for casual relations elsewhere. It was just mechanics, scratching an itch," she explained.
"Okay," he sighed. He didn't like hearing it, he didn't like the idea that Logan had experienced her in a similar manner like he was, not that she was a piece of meat of course.
"But you were better," she added, knowing just the right thing to say. To her the brain was the most important sexual organ - no matter what the other body parts were doing, surely getting off at the touch of the right spot, but when brains were involved - lust, love, the kind of chemistry that couldn't be ignored, the right build-up - sex was always infinitely better. "Maybe you'd like to remind me?" she asked seductively, after finishing her glass of wine, her bare foot travelling up towards his crotch under the table, making the corners of his mouth rise.
After a few rounds of incredible love-making, knowing each other better and better after every time, the two remained wrapped up in a sheet, her hand stroking the inside of his forearm gently. The rain had subsided outside, and they could both sense the night taking over.
"I think I need to show you something," he said after a while, forcing himself to rise, not bothering to dress, and taking the ten steps it took to get his laptop from his desk. This couldn't wait. If he didn't tell her, it felt almost like lying to her.
She sat up in bed, her legs bent under the sheet.
"When you left last time, I got really angry - not at you of course, just the whole situation and the only thing that helped me was writing this. It's not ready and it's not exactly you, but you can probably relate," he explained, pulling up the file in front of her.
She browsed the first couple of pages, realizing that she really didn't want to be reminded of her story right now.
"Do you think I'm recognizable in this?" she asked, trying to not show her reluctance so it wouldn't cause a big fight and offend him.
"As I said, it's not ready. If you're worried, I can alter it, you can give your input," he explained, holding his breath that she wouldn't be upset by this.
"I'm not really sure I would like that story to be out there frankly, and I'm not even sure I'd want to read it myself," she added, feeling like she couldn't just pretend to be okay with it either.
He was slightly disappointed. He'd put a lot of work hours into it, and he was pretty sure it was one of his best works so far. The emotions had been so raw, and it had come so easily. She could see him going grim, his enthusiasm draining out of his face.
"I'm sorry, it's just too fresh, you know," she apologized. "Do you think you could just ask me again at a later time?" she offered. She didn't want to jeopardize their new found dynamic just because she couldn't handle reading some text.
"Yeah, I get that. I'm sorry I pushed it. I just felt you needed to know that I had this," he added apologetically.
"Thanks," she replied. She wasn't sure how she felt about it yet - the entire situation she was now in, without a history so to speak, not just the book.
"You know, I cried for days after I left you in Dumbo, just so you know. It was one of the hardest things I ever did," she confessed, sharing a bit of her inner world. Surely there had been other factors, the idea of the baby for starters, but it had felt like having lost him too. He'd said he'd been angry, and she could imagine that being a good driver for writing. She just wanted him to know that despite not being able to read the story, she was in fact emotionally invested in him.
He kissed her forehead. He wanted her to never leave like that again.