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After the Sharktopus nonsense, Mac decides she's going to rest for a few days. She has a severely sprained ankle that really limits her ability to walk and sand is out of the question unless she wants to just make it worse. While it's frustrating to her, she doesn't mind being in the house for a few days and spending some time just reading books and keeping her own company, which she doesn't particularly mind.
She does, however, miss Jackson and hopes he'll be by to check on her and her stupid injury. She hears a knock at her cottage door and calls out so she doesn't have to get up.
"It's open! I'm in bed." Bed is the most comfortable place to lay around with books, after all, and Mac pushes her reading glasses up on her nose and squints at the tiny print.
She does, however, miss Jackson and hopes he'll be by to check on her and her stupid injury. She hears a knock at her cottage door and calls out so she doesn't have to get up.
"It's open! I'm in bed." Bed is the most comfortable place to lay around with books, after all, and Mac pushes her reading glasses up on her nose and squints at the tiny print.
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"I guess I always will," he says, rolling one shoulder in a shrug. "Doesn't even feel like something that's really to do with me anymore, most of the time. Nothing that could get in the way of anything else, anyway."
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"No, I understand. I still love Will and we broke up five or six years ago now. It doesn't just stop," Mac says, shrugging. "Even if you want it to."
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"Even if you want it to," he echoes, idly playing with the ends of her hair. "So I suppose we just have to figure out what comes instead."
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"I guess so," Mac says, giving him a soft smile. "I have confidence in you, so, there's that. You seem more likely to make up your mind than I am."
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"You're the first one in a while," he says, thinking of Reid and all of their ups and downs. "You want me to make up my mind? That what you're waiting for?"
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"Yes? I'm willing to go with...whatever you're interested in." Mac knows that she's entirely too passive about some things but she doesn't want to be rejected if she puts herself out there and it's just easier to let someone else pursue something and she just go along with it than to be assertive about what she actually wants.
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"I like spending time with you," he says, bending his head so his lips brush against her forehead. "Whether we're clothed or not. I like bein' around you and I'd like to see where that goes. Other guys don't bother me. Do what you like. But I'd like to be around."
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"Well, that wasn't nearly as difficult as I thought it was going to be," Mac says. She's visibly relieved because she's never been very good at these types of conversations and while nothing much has changed, she does feel a lot better about being a depraved little slut in bed with Jackson since she knows he has some genuine interest in her outside of it.
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He huffs out a soft laugh at that, brushing her hair back from her shoulder.
"What were you imagining was going to happen?"
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"That you would tell me you were only interested in fucking me," Mac says, frowning a little. "Looking back, it was probably a stupid thing to think. I just expect that everyone is going to eventually reject me and operate from that opinion. I shouldn't."
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"You're right, you shouldn't," he says, frowning as he looks at her. "Look. I've had my fair share of fucking. With different girls. I know when it feels different, alright? You're just going to have to trust me."
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"I've been told by a very experienced source that I suck cock like a whore," Mac says, grinning wickedly at him. "So maybe I'm keeping you satisfied. I will just have to trust your judgment on that one."
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"You do a lot of things like a whore, darlin'," he teases, grinning, bending his head to kiss her. "And you are more than keepin' me satisfied."
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"But I can be a perfect lady if I want to," Mac reminds him. "You know, in spite of all the appearances, I'm actually pretty wealthy. I'm not titled or anything but my parents were diplomats and I don't exactly get paid a small amount to run News Night. It's nice, though, because this place doesn't care about that. Money doesn't matter at all. It's just interpersonal relationships that matter. It's almost a utopian society, if you squint."
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"If I squint," he echoes, mulling that over. The ring that he's wearing catches the light as he plays with her hair. "Well, I ain't got two pennies to rub together, lately, so you've got that up on me, at least."