Bend It Like Becker

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Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in posting. This chapter has been ready for post for almost 6 days, but the internet prices at our hotels that last few days of our trip were way too pricy ($30 for 40 minutes!) You'll be happy to know, though, that I wrote almost 5 chapters whilst in New Zealand (How did you spend your holiday? Obsessing about Jess & Becker, of course!) I promise I will be posting several more chapters very soon. Thanks for all the reviews - I'm so happy that people are enjoying this story!

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Chapter 15 – A KEY, A CAR, AND CONFUSION

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The moment Becker placed the key in Jess's hand, he felt as if a huge weight had been lifted. True, he hadn't actually solved her problem - Abby and Connor were still her flatmates, still making her feel uncomfortable in her own home - but at least he'd done what he could. His suggestion to talk to them, to tell them it was time to find a place of their own, had so upset Jess that he'd quickly backed off of the idea. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her more grief, since she was already so stressed.

That's why he'd given her the key. If he couldn't fix the problem directly, at least he could offer her a safe haven, someplace where she could retreat and regain her strength until she felt ready to confront her flatmates.

And now that he'd done so, Becker could relax and enjoy their breakfast together. Or at least that was his plan. But Jess seemed strangely distant and quiet as they continued on to the cafe, clearly still upset by their confrontation.

Of course, Becker realized, the confrontation. That was it. Jess must think he was angry with her, and who could blame her when he'd stood in the street yelling like that. He hadn't meant to lose his temper, but now Jess thought it was all her fault - she'd even apologised, as if she'd been in the wrong. Becker realised he must remedy that, he must make it clear that his anger wasn't directed at her.

So as they entered the cafe, Becker insisted upon paying for breakfast before suggesting she go find seats. After ordering, he joined her at a table in the corner, where she was just putting away her mobile. Sitting down across from her, he reached out and put his hand tenderly atop hers. "I hope you don't think I'm cross with you," he began awkwardly. "I know...I shouldn't have yelled. It's just...I care about you, Jess. I hope you know that."

Jess nodded tentatively, as if she wasn't quite sure she believed him.

Becker didn't know how to convince her. He reckoned she was still dwelling on the Abby/Connor situation, and perhaps the best thing would be to simply change the subject, to engage her in idle conversation to get her mind off of it.

But he'd never been good at that sort of thing - idle conversation was more Jess's area of expertise than his. So he figured he merely needed to get her talking about a subject she liked, and everything would sort itself out.

"So...where'd you get your shoes?" Becker asked.

Jess stared at him as if he'd just asked when the next flight to Pluto was. "My shoes?"

"Yeah," Becker said, peering under the table to actually look at her feet. He generally didn't take much note of her shoes because he was usually too busy focussing on the long legs sprouting from them, but the shoes she was wearing today were, to be honest, extremely hot. They had a rather innocent-looking pink-and-black-plaid design, but the multiple leather straps around each ankle made them incredibly sexy. He imagined undoing them a buckle at a time, her feet in his lap, his hands caressing her firm shins...

He frowned - he was supposed to be distracting her, not the other way around. He cleared his throat and mumbled absently, "You own a lot of shoes, don't you?"

Jess shrugged. "Depends on how you define 'a lot'." She sounded almost defensive, as if he were criticising her for her vast shoe collection.

Perhaps a more neutral topic would be better.

"You were right about Emily, by the way."

"Emily?" Jess repeated blankly.

Becker nodded. "I think she's going to make a great goalkeeper. You should've seen her dive for this lizard at the anomaly the other day."

Jess smiled at the image, the first real smile Becker had seen from her since their confrontation. He was relieved to have found a topic of conversation that could distract her and continued, "Starting Monday, I think we should start playing, REALLY playing. We can divide up the team five and five and take turns playing offense and defense. What do you think?"

"I think...that'd be good, though we still have some skills we need to work on. Perhaps we can start with some drills and then move on to playing? Or maybe the other way 'round. Do you have a preference?"

Becker frankly didn't care - he was just glad that Jess was talking again. Things were finally back to normal, and he could sit back and enjoy his time alone with her.

And perhaps think about one day removing those shoes of hers one buckle at a time.

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Jess was convinced that Becker must've received top academic honours in Mixed Signals 101. Hell, he could be teaching the class himself! Because Jess had never been so confused in all her life.

Seriously, was it possible for him to make less sense? One moment he'd been yelling at her, clearly resentful of Connor and Abby's teasing since he was only interested in being her friend...and then the next he'd given her a key to his flat! Could he be more inconsistent?

And nothing after that had made much sense either. True, he'd been chivalrous and bought her breakfast, but then he'd ragged on her for having too many shoes. And then he'd abruptly changed topics, spontaneously discussing footy as if none of the rest had happened. What the hell?

At least the remainder of breakfast had been pleasant enough. They'd stuck to discussing the team and the upcoming match, and he no longer seemed cross at her about the Minister's wager, only frustrated with the situation in general.

But then they'd started to work on his car.

To say that Becker was stubborn about trying to fix it himself was an understatement. Obstinate, bullheaded, a proverbial pain in the arse were perhaps more appropriate terms. He insisted on checking everything himself and refused to listen to any of Jess's suggestions to call a recovery lorry. He also grew annoyed that she wasn't knowledgeable of anything under the bonnet and would snap at her when he'd ask her to check something she was unfamiliar with.

At one point he had her bring her own car around to attempt to jump-start his, thinking it was the battery that was causing the problems. However, when she started her car before his hands were completely free of the jump leads, he gave her an earful. Finally, well past twelve, Becker announced that, after narrowing it down, the problem seemed to be with the starter itself - something about the bendix mechanism or the solenoid or something - and it would simply have to be replaced.

"Is that...something you can do yourself?" Jess asked hesitantly, not wanting another tirade about how she shouldn't be so ignorant about something she relied upon every day.

Luckily he didn't snap this time. "Not really," Becker said, rubbing his hand across his cheek and leaving a streak of grease behind. "I don't have the right equipment to do it here. I'm going to need to take it in."

Jess breathed a sigh of relief as she dug out her mobile. "Is there a tow company you'd-"

"We don't need to tow it," Becker insisted.

Jess stared at him, confused. "But then how are you going to get it to the shop?"

"Drive it, of course. We'll simply have to pop the clutch."

She stared at him, waiting for an explanation, but he was too busy slamming down the bonnet to notice her inquisitive look. Finally she suggested, "Perhaps that could wait till after lunch?"

Now it was Becker's turn to stare blankly. "Lunch?"

"It's nearly half twelve," Jess pointed out. "I think we should go eat something first, before we attempt this 'popping the clutch' thing."

Becker nodded reluctantly. "I suppose that's best." He glanced at his greasy hands and suggested, "Perhaps we could nip back to your place first so I could wash up?"

Jess smiled, "Yes, that's probably wise." Without thinking, she licked her thumb and reached up to try and rub off the smear across his cheek. At first he looked confused as to what she was doing, but then recognition dawned, followed shortly by a smile and then, almost immediately, the Look.

She instantly stopped and stared at him intensely. What had the Look been about? Hadn't he just said this morning that he was only interested in being friends? So why did he suddenly look so guilty about her touching his cheek? Talk about mixed signals!

"Um...yes," Jess began, feeling suddenly flustered. She couldn't help but wonder: did he, in fact, like her after all? If so, what had his tirade this morning been about? And what did the whole key thing have to do with any of it? She was so confused! "Let's, uh, get you back to my place to wash up."

"Yes, let's," he said as they started up the street. "And...perhaps you'll want to change into some more practical shoes, as you'll be the one actually popping the clutch."

"I will?" Jess had no idea what that meant. "And by practical, you mean...?"

"No heels," he said, adding under his breath, "And fewer buckles."

Jess wasn't sure what the buckles had to do with popping the clutch, but she noticed he was sporting the Look once again.

She smiled to herself, pleased with the effect her shoes seemed to be having upon him.

Perhaps she needed to start wearing strappy shoes more often!

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to be continued