When Fools Rush In

Chapter 5 - Night on the Tiles

The early autumn sun was streaming through Lucy's window. She stirred and suddenly woke with a jolt, briefly forgetting where she was. She knew she was on the wrong side of the bed, her book and table lamp on the bedside cabinet closest the window. Then it all came flooding back - yesterday. She could barely believe it. As she turned over, she saw Jack lying next to her, his back to her. He was sleeping on his side, breathing very slowly and very deeply, his hair either stuck to the pillow or sticking up wildly. Lucy's stomach flipped with a mixture of disbelief and desire.

She turned fully to him and stroked his shoulder. She ran her leg up and down the back of his thigh, feeling the heat radiating from his thick legs, her knee brushing his smooth rounded buttocks under the covers.  He didn't flinch - he was out cold.

Lucy decided not to wake him. Her watch told her it was still only 7.30, the time she usually woke up for work, but today she wasn't working. This Friday she had off - she was heading to London tonight for her friend Michelle's mini hen party at a glamorous cocktail bar, and she was taking the whole weekend off to spend with her girlfriends taking in London's sights and revisiting old haunts. Lucy was relieved she had cover for tomorrow's big Man City home match at the Etihad, their corporate communications director who had previously done her role on matchdays and knew it inside out.

On standing up, Lucy realised she felt sore. Very sore. Jack had pounded her to extremes the day before and she was paying for it now. She grimaced but it turned into a smug smile as she went into the bathroom to take a shower.

Half an hour later Lucy was in the kitchen, dressed and making tea and chucking out old bits of food in the fridge that she knew wouldn't last the rest of the weekend. She sensed a presence at the door and spun round eagerly. Jack was up. He was standing in the doorway wearing only his shorts that he had gathered up sleepily from the bedroom floor. His hair was still sticking up all over the place, his eyes glazed over and dreamy as he regained consciousness. Lucy still couldn't believe she had Jack Grealish, barely clothed, standing in her kitchen eyeing her up lazily as she offered him a cup of tea.

"Morning gorgeous," breathed Lucy. Jack took the mug of tea from her as she reached up to ruffle his hair with her fingers. "Look at you, bed head. You look knackered."

"You wore me out didn't you," smiled Jack, "I am knackered. Thankfully I don't have training until 11...you're dressed already?" he looked disappointed.

"Yeah, I'm not actually working this weekend - I'm heading down to London this morning for a girls' weekend so I won't be around for the game tomorrow."

"Oh, OK."

"Anyway I'm not kicking you out Jack - I'll make you some breakfast in bed, so go and chill out," said Lucy, rubbing his chest reassuringly as she spoke. She sighed, wishing she hadn't made commitments today; that she could spend a lazy morning in bed with him, giving herself longer to process what was going on, and what had happened in just 24 hours.

Jack climbed back into bed again, relieved he had longer to come to; his head was foggy with exhaustion and he was worried Pep would give him a bollocking later that morning if he wasn't up to scratch. He yawned and placed his head back onto the pillow, closing his eyes.

"Wakey wakey," chirruped Lucy, carrying a small tray as she breezed back into the room, "I've got you some breakfast here. Sorry it's not much, I only have one egg left and it's probably gone off, and I've not been shopping all week as you can probably tell." She placed the tray on Jack's lap as he hurriedly propped two pillows up: four crumpets with a slab of butter and a mini pot of jam on the side, with a glass of orange juice. 

Jack's eyes lit up, "bangin'" he said, "four crumpets! Aren't you having any?"

"I've already eaten," replied Lucy, heartened by the fact he was so easily pleased, "and you need your energy for later."