Chapter 17
POPPY
I laid in bed for a long while before drifting off to sleep.
I kept replaying the events of the last twenty-four hours in my head on a loop. My conversation with Wren, about how if I let myself entertain the idea of wanting to kiss Jett for real, I’d be opening myself up to get hurt.
Heartbreak waiting to happen, were her exact words.
She has a point. The benefit of marrying Jett is that at the end of all this, we’ll get a clean break. He’ll get what he wants, a shot at the World Cup, and I’ll get to keep the café.
Easy. Done.
Still, I can’t help but think about how at odds that realization is with the way I felt tonight. Watching him defend me, stand up for me, despite the consequences.
Brooke was not thrilled about the videos of Jett punching that waiter in the face being blasted all over social media.
It took a while for Jett to talk her down, and listening to him on the phone with her, I got the sense that it wasn’t the first time Jett had fought her on something pertaining to me.
Now though, it’s God only knows what time in the middle of the night, and I’m being awoken by a soft knock on my door.
Jett.
My fiancé.
Jett is knocking on my door, and a pang of anticipation zips through me as I wonder about what he could want at this hour. Another soft knock comes a few seconds later when I don’t answer.
“Coming,” I call softly, though I don’t need to control the volume of my voice. I’ve been keenly aware of the fact that it’s just the two of us occupying this cavernous house.
I find whatever clothes I can and pull them on so I’m not answering the door in my pyjamas. Leggings, and a fluffy knit sweater. The one I made myself, with an intricate fair isle pattern in blue and lilac against a cream background.
When I answer the door, Jett is standing in the hall in a grey hoodie and matching sweatpants. His hair is mussed, as I’ve become accustomed to seeing it. He’s leaning casually on the wall across the hall and stands up straight when he sees I’ve opened the door.
“I thought you’d be sleeping.”
“Weren’t you?” I checked my phone to see the time before I got up. “It’s 2 o’clock.”
“No, I couldn’t.”
I want to ask what was keeping him up, if it was the same mix of excitement and nerves preventing sleep for me, but before I have the chance he says, “come on, I have something to show you.”
I follow him through the hall, and out into the living room, where the large sliding door is open to the balcony. He has my winter boots and a blanket to wrap around my shoulders before I step out into the snow.
The night is calm, serene, the thick blankets of white absorbing any sounds coming from the forest surrounding Jett’s house. It’s completely silent besides the sound of our breathing.
When we’re both outside, Jett takes out his phone and opens an app that allows him to turn all the lights off in and outside the house. At the press of a button, we’re in complete darkness.
The only remaining light is the glow from the moon and pink, purple and green lights dancing overhead. A wash of colour against an otherwise black night sky.
Neither of us say anything for a moment as we both stare up at the stars and the northern lights.
They’re mesmerizing, and magical. The vibrant ripple of colour swirls among the stars, fading in and out, creating new shapes and lines every time it reappears.
My breath catches as I watch them, entirely entranced, enamoured.
“They’re incredible,” I breathe into the silence.
“I thought you’d like them.” Jett leans his arms on the railing, eyes still fixed on the sky above.
A subtle throbbing radiates behind my sternum as I consider the fact that I’ve lived here for so long and this is my first time seeing the aurora borealis. I’ve never stayed up late enough, and I’m only now discovering an entire world that exists after ten o’clock.
The chill of the night air makes me shiver, but Jett radiates warmth, so I move a little closer until our arms are almost brushing against each other.
“How are you feeling about the wedding?” Jett asks.
“Nervous,” I answer. It’s easier to admit when I’m not looking at him. When I don’t have the world’s hottest playboy staring at me.
“About anything in particular?”
Everything. Whether people buy it or not, the inevitable drama that will come when we announce our divorce.
Kissing Jett. Butterflies roll around in my gut at the thought.
“Making it seem real,” I finally answer, deciding that it encompasses the whole mess of emotions I can’t make sense of. “We haven’t had the time to practice any of this. At least, I haven’t. We didn’t even kiss when we got engaged at the restaurant.”
Jett turns and looks at me and the weight of his eyes on me is heavy like the blanket he wrapped around me.
“Oh my god, we never kissed!” The realization makes my pulse roar. “Do you think anyone will pick up on that?”
Jett drops his head between his shoulders, putting all his weight on his forearms resting on the railing. He shakes his head and lets out a soft chuckle.
“I think the fact that I punched that waiter in the face will keep people pre-occupied. For better or for worse.”
I cringe when I think back to what happened. The disdain in that man’s voice, the way he hurled insults at me. Jett gets scrutinized plenty, but it’s nothing compared to how they treat the women he’s with.
Now, that will be me. Under constant fire.
But I had almost forgotten about the way my chest had hollowed out at what the waiter said.
Because the only part of the whole interaction replaying in my mind is Jett’s words.
Not the ones in defence of me, the ones he used when his eyes darkened, and this unfamiliar protective and possessive look crossed his face.
My future wife.
“And we still have lots of time to practice before the wedding,” he says, breaking me out of the memory. The tone of his voice has dropped low, and my pulse quickens at the way it rumbles through me.
“Should we just… get it over with?”
Jett stands up straight and turns his broad shoulders so he’s facing me now. I refuse to meet his gaze, opting instead to peer up at the swirling colours overhead.
“There’s no getting it over with. Your first kiss Poppy… we’re going to do it right.” His large hand gently tugs my bicep, so I have to turn towards him now too, and my breath catches at how close we’re standing to one another. “Drop the blanket.”
I don’t know why he wants me to drop the blanket, but I let it fall to the ground and land in the snow, and I’m glad I don’t have to hold onto it now. There’s nothing distracting me from the way his brown eyes are fixed on my mouth, the way his hand has come to cup the line of my jaw.
“There’s no one around to see it,” I whisper, my warm breath forming a misty cloud in the crisp night air.
“That’s the point,” he says, his chest rising, his breathing becoming deeper. “Your first kiss shouldn’t be for publicity. It should be real. It should be about you, and the person kissing you. Nothing else.”
My mind snags on the word real. This isn’t real. Nothing about it is real.
But if I’m going to have a good first kiss anywhere, with anyone, I think I want it to be right here, right now, under the aurora with Jett.
He dips his head down, his tongue sliding across his bottom lip, leaving a wet sheen. I swear I can feel my pupils dilate. His eyebrows twitch upward, as if he’s warning me that he’s going to kiss me now.
My heart stutters as Jett’s lips part and then he brushes them up against mine, feather-light and soft.
He pulls away for a split second, a gentle tease that leaves me breathless and wanting. My eyelids flutter, but before I can open them to look at him, he’s placed his mouth on mine again, this time firm and capturing.
My eyes close as I take a deep inhale of breath through my nose, taking in the sensations, the taste of him. His lips are soft and smooth, his tongue warm as it glides over my bottom lip.
Whenever I imagined kissing Jett after we agreed to do this, I didn’t imagine it like this. Not soft, and tender. Not this good.
On instinct, I open my mouth for him, letting him push his tongue gently in.
I don’t know what to do with my tongue, but right now it doesn’t matter. Jett has complete control, and I allow him to take it. I allow him to lead me, to guide me.
It’s what I imagine when people describe their first kiss being like fireworks, except the fireworks are going off inside my chest.
Jett is obviously practiced at this, but he doesn’t make me feel like I’m just another woman he’s kissing. For this moment, I’m the only one who exists to him. He makes me feel special.
I guess that’s part of his charm. It’s the reason women become so feral over him, so possessive, and jealous.
I guess if I thought any part of this was real, I might be possessive and jealous, too.
My body melts into Jett’s as he kisses me, slowly, languorously. It isn’t rushed. Now I know why he wanted to do it this way.
When he pulls away from me, it’s as if my breath gets sucked from my lungs, and the only air left between us is crisp and cold. I blink in rapid succession, trying to process what just happened.
I reach up and brush my fingers along my lips, like they’re somehow not mine anymore.
My first kiss.
I had my first kiss with Jett Landry.
Whatever I was expecting it to be, it wasn’t anything like it. The moment Jett’s lips met mine, I knew that my suspicions about him might just be right. There might be more to Jett than people give him credit for.
Because he looked into my eyes before he did it and made sure I was okay.
He moved his mouth as if he was handling something precious.
He kissed me as if he actually wanted to.
The problem is, I don’t know if that kiss was special, I have nothing to measure it against.
When I am finally able to look back at Jett, his chest is still rising and falling steadily with each deep breath, like he’s trying to compose himself. It had to be more than just average for him too, surely.
But before I can ask, Jett is turning away from me, heading back inside the house.
“We should try to get some sleep,” he says, over his shoulder.
I try to hide the wobble in my voice. “Okay.”
Following him back into the house, he closes the floor to ceiling sliding door behind me, and we retreat to our respective rooms.
Something in me drops as I replay the last ten minutes, trying to think of an explanation for why he retreated so quickly, why he shut down.
All I can come up with is that my initial suspicions were wrong, and that I imagined a deeper meaning that was never there.
It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t real.
It was just any other kiss for Jett.