He'd made her curious.

As much as April didn't want to admit it to herself, Jackson Avery certainly had. She'd never met anyone like him before, and all of the silly Lifetime movies that she'd found herself watching at weird hours in the morning when her mind needed a break from reality had always been about women and the terrible men that they got caught up in. The opposite had never crossed her mind before.

But a heated dream after their date, that she had attempted to chalk up to a buildup of hormones after nearly three decades of being a virgin and the… professional touch of a man had kept her curiosity peaked. The idea of him buried between her legs, making her tremble with desire. She couldn't quite imagine what it was like to be eaten out, but she can at least enjoy the beautiful mental image of his face between her legs, beautiful light eyes looking back up at her.

So yeah, she wanted to know more. But she was sure it was more than just being horny.

A week after their date, April had finally gotten the backbone to call him back. The surprise in his voice on the other side of the line was obvious, and she figured that he'd assumed she'd wanted to push their interaction to the back of her mind, not inquire about arranging another date between them – a date with very, very clear definitions of what she did and didn't want. The latter, of course, being caught in the presumption he'd made on the other line. One that she still hadn't brought up to her coworkers, always being as vague as possible whenever they asked about it, too embarrassed to even attempt to explain what had gone on.

Burgers were her suggestion, an attempt to be more casual. Even if they'd called it a date, she wasn't so sure about pursuing a relationship with an escort. It didn't make any sense to her. But that didn't mean they couldn't be friends. She wasn't that judgemental.

"Hey, April," Jackson greets her as she walks into the joint. He looks handsome as ever, even dressed down in jeans and a jacket.

"Hi, sorry if I'm late," she began to apologize habitually.

"You're not, don't worry."

Both of them go up to the counter to order, Jackson insisting on paying and April momentarily feeling guilty about ordering a strawberry shake instead of just a cup of water. Small talk consumes most of the meal, comparing their experiences at the hospitals, interesting cases that had popped up. She had never really taken plastics too seriously, if she was being honest, but he had a way of talking about it that made it seem more than just boob jobs. He seemed genuinely interested in making other people feel happy with themselves and their body, not just interested in the money that came with the career or the power high that came with being a surgeon. It was nice.

By the time that they've each swallowed their last ketchup drenched fry, they both know that neither really want to go home alone, but both have very different date expectations. If anything, April got another date arranged. Jackson always got a good night of sex. There wasn't much middle ground.

Before the subject can be broached, though, her mouth gets the best of her.

"Why did you become an escort?"

She freezes after it comes out, regretting it almost immediately and her face turning red. Jackson, however, doesn't have the same reaction. It's fairly expected given how aghast she'd been when he told her in the first place.

"Paying off student loan debt. I'm almost done with it – but it would have taken much longer without it." He explained calmly.

"But… I mean… why that? Instead of just picking up a second job…?" April's trying desperately not to sound too judgmental, too much like that farm girl from Ohio who doesn't understand the problems of the real world. She does, she certainly does. But her curiosity was getting the better of her.

Jackson pauses to answer, offering her an endearing smile and reaching across the table to take her hand. He stands up from the seat and guides her outside, preferring not to be overheard by anyone inside of there, and figuring fresh air might do the both of them a little good.

"It pays a lot better than a second job would, for one. I like what I do. I don't just mean the sex. Being an escort… I mean, it's not that black and white. A lot of these women who hire me, they've got some kind of problem going on at home, and I'm the way that they escape from it. They want company, someone who's going to listen to their problems and not offers judgment, but support and sympathy. They want someone to tell them that they're making the right decisions and doing the right thing. It's more that than anything physical."

The explanation was certainly more than what April was expecting, her slim eyebrows raising up into her forehead after the amount of honesty that poured from his lips. It was more complicated than what she'd expected.

"Oh." The syllable is quiet leaving the redhead's lips, silence falling between them a moment.

"That doesn't sound easy."

"It's not. But making them feel good – it makes me feel good. Like being a doctor."

The comparison only draws further surprise from April, and she goes quiet, realizing that he'd started walking them back toward her apartment without saying a word. His memory didn't surprise her. Most doctors had a good memory. But she could tell that he was more relaxed this time than last time, speaking a little more freely.

"Don't you want someone to do that for you?" April finally inquires after a moment, glancing over at him as they walk.

A slight chuckle leaves his lips, barely nodding his head.

"Yeah, that's why I'm here."