His door was still shut. Good.
I snuck out of my room and slipped into the kitchen.
And found Marc already in there.
He'd popped open the wine already-my wine-and was sipping what looked like his first glass. When he saw me, he didn't say anything. Instead, he turned to the bottle and poured a second glass.
Then he held it out in my direction, like a sort of peace offering.
I paused for only a beat before crossing to him. Wordlessly, I took the glass and nodded my thanks.
I knew I should apologize. But I wasn't about to take all the blame. I took a swallow, leaned back against the counter next to him and stared at my feet. Casually.
A minute passed. Then another.
I heaved a sigh. Time for me to be the adult. Again. Adulting was so overrated. "Maybe … " I said, trailing off.
Marc lifted his head and cocked his head, giving me his full attention.
"Are we both bad at sex?" I asked tentatively.
"Seduction," he corrected quickly. "Maybe we're both bad at seduction. Not bad at sex."
"Right. Because we haven't gotten far enough to evaluate the sex," I said, bitterly.
He looked about ready to refute me, but it was true, so what could he refute?
It was Marc's turn to sigh. He took another sip of the wine. "Now this is apricot."
"And vanilla," I muttered. Only a few days in and already the descriptors were becoming obvious.
He picked up the bottle. "Citrus and strawberry," he read.
"Really?" I was extremely surprised.
"Really. We're apparently really bad at wine too." He was smiling when our eyes met. His gaze was soft and warm, even after everything we'd said.
"Look," he said, pivoting toward me, giving me another heart-stopping view of his perfect body and cheeky grin. "I can't go on a bangcation like this. I need to know my wines, and I have to be oozing seduction. Parisian girls will have no patience for a bumbling guy who can't tell an apricot from an apple."
I shifted so I was facing him, too. Something told me his curls and smile would overcome quite a bit, but I wasn't going to say it out loud. "And I'll never date again if I'm always this awkward."
"I can definitely see how it would be a problem."
I gasped. "Dick." I mean, it was true, but he didn't have to be so agreeable.
"I'm commiserating," he clarified. "I'm just as much of the problem as you are."
"Okay, okay." I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. He'd been going somewhere with this, and if he was thinking the same thing I was thinking … "So. Should we … ?" Could we?
Marc nodded. "We could help each other practice. We could totally help each other practice."
Finally, we were on the same page. "I can get on board with that."
"Shall we toast?" Marc held up his glass.
I raised mine and clinked it against his. "To good wine and even better sex!"
"Seduction!" he corrected. "The sex itself is going to be awesome."
"We'll soon see." I mean, when I fan-fictioned it for my comic, it definitely would be. So.
Seven
The next morning, I propped my head up with my elbow and stared at Marc as he slept. Such a gorgeous sleeper. He looked less studious and fancy when he was out cold, more boyish; even with the scruff he'd been letting grow since school got out. It was like his whole face softened somehow, became almost boyish. His eyelashes were long and hit his cheeks so delicately. I wanted to reach out and touch them.
Okay, I did reach out and touch them. Which might have sort of been the thing that woke him up. I realized my mistake immediately.
I pulled my hand back like maybe he wouldn't notice, but it was too late.
He blinked. Then sort of yelped. "Jesus! I did it again!"
It took half a second to register what he'd thought he'd done again. "No!" I exclaimed quickly. So he didn't notice my eyelash-caress after all. "No, I just slipped in." Unfortunately.
After we'd agreed to help each other learn wine and sex-excuse me, seduction-we'd decided that we'd both do better with a good night's sleep before discussing it any further.
My night's sleep had been fair enough, I guess, good might have been a stretch, though. I tossed and turned a bit, imagining, well. Imagining this-waking up beside Marc. Just with more kissing and less surprise. More eyelashes and fewer questions.
But that counted as a good night, even if it was a little light on the sleep. And now here I was, sprawled out on top of his comforter, ready to discuss. "So?"
"So … what?" he asked through a yawn.
"How do we start? When do we start?" I might have been just a little bit eager. If he kept stretching like he was we might not need to discuss anything at all. He slept shirtless, and his perfectly sculpted upper body was pretty much all the seduction I needed.
Unf.
If we didn't get this sorted soon, I'd have to work some more alone time into my schedule. And considering I spent like twelve hours a day alone already, things were about to get completely ridiculous.
Marc rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and glanced at his alarm clock. It was already seven-thirty. He'd always been up by this time when school was in session. He didn't need to act like it was especially early, but there he went with all the eye rubs. Stretch. Blink-blink like he didn't know what was happening. He knew full well what was happening.
Still, it felt like he was a bit annoyed when he said, "First rule of seduction: no seduction before coffee."
"No problem. I'll go make some." I leaped up, stopping at the door to ask, "How do you take it?"
He sat up to answer me. "Vanilla creamer until it's a light tan color, not beige, but also not totally ecru, and two spoonfuls of sugar."
I wasn't sure, for the first moment, if I was impressed or horrified that he knew exactly where on the brown-scale ecru fell. But that wasn't the point, I realized. I coughed. He ignored me. I coughed again, more pointedly.
"Uh, Marc?" I waited until I had his full attention before I went on. "Second rule of seduction: don't admit to a woman that you drink your coffee like it's dessert."
He replied with something about how mocking someone's personal preference was closed-minded, but I was already down the hall by then so I didn't bother correcting him. He'd had too many last words already. It was my time to shine.
While the coffee brewed, I decided to make a quick breakfast. I was antsy anyway, and it seemed like a good use of my energy. Eggs were easy enough to whip up, and I found some bread without mold on it. It wasn't much, but it was a meal. Some days, on my budget, it could be considered an actual feast.
Apparently neither Marc nor I were very invested in kitchenware, because I couldn't find any serving trays even after a thorough search. Thinking creatively, as I do, I grabbed one of my large sketchbooks, and a couple of minutes later it was loaded up with two paper towels, two mugs of coffee and two plates of scrambled eggs and cheesy toast. I threw on a couple of sugar packets as the finishing touch.
Not bad, I told myself. Not bad at all.
Marc's bed was empty when I walked in with our food, but I could hear the shower running. It turned off almost as soon as I put the tray down on the nightstand, so I knew he'd be out, gently scented, shortly. While I waited, I got comfortable on his bed, a plate of food in one hand, a mug in the other, my nightshirt bunched gently and thoughtfully to the top of my thighs. It just looked casual though, I knew cause I had taken a phone pic of myself and verified.
The bathroom door opened a few minutes later and steam poured into the room. When Marc stepped out, dripping wet, with only a towel tied low on his hips, I nearly dropped my drink. As hot as he was normally, it somehow was magnified when hot water was added. Literally double hot. The only thing stopping me from jumping him was the stupid rule about no seduction before coffee.
Note to self: revise the no seduction before coffee rule.
Marc dried his perfectly curly hair with a hand towel as he scanned up my bare legs and then landed on the plate of food sitting on my lap. I wasn't super jealous that his curls behaved with such a minimum of work but I also wasn't not jealous. Felt the same about the food on my lap getting his stare.
"You made breakfast?" He sounded surprised. "Why, Madison, are you trying to seduce me?"
Yes. So much yes. "Is it working?"
"It's definitely a step in the right direction." Phew. I couldn't have handled it if he'd laughed and blown this off. Somehow in all our shenanigans, I'd realized I deeply cared what he thought about me. Stupid, I knew, seeing as this was just a sex thing, but still. I couldn't help myself.
Because the man seemed intent to drive me completely crazy with lust, Marc didn't bother putting on any clothes. He settled back on the bed still wearing only his towel.
Half a foot away from me. On his bed. Wearing only a towel.
Maybe I really was Wonder Woman because it's a wonder I didn't combust spontaneously.
We ate in silence. Or, he ate, and I picked at my food, too sidetracked by the naked man next to me to truly enjoy anything but the scenery. His elbow grazed against my arm as he ate, sending goosebumps down my skin. I was dizzy from his clean and manly scent-evidently he'd skipped the organic bath products this time, which was a step in the right direction for him as well. Even the way he tackled his meal was distracting. He ate thoughtfully. A couple of bites of eggs, then a nibble of toast, a swallow of coffee. Repeat.