Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
ISABELLE
“Bella, we’re here.”
My eyes open, and I glance around, observing I’m in a car. I think I fell asleep on Jackson’s shoulder earlier.
Speaking of sleep, I just woke up from the strangest yet most vivid dream. I dreamed that Jackson and I ran into Ivy, and I introduced Jackson as my boyfriend to her. Strangely enough, the dream almost feels like reality.
I rub my temples. “Where are we?”
“We’re outside your apartment,” Jackson gently says.
“I miss my bed,” I murmur.
“We’ll be inside soon.”
I yawn, covering my mouth with a hand. “Okay. You’d better not be lying.”
“Promise I’m not.” Jackson steps out of the car and holds open the door as I get out.
His suit jacket is still around my shoulders, but it feels cozy, and I don’t want to give it back. So, I take it off and snuggle it against my chest as though I’m guarding a prized possession.
Jackson’s eyes light up with amusement under the evening sky. “Would you like me to hold that for you?”
“No, don’t steal it from me!” I snap, holding his jacket tighter.
A laugh escapes his mouth. “As I said, it’s yours to keep.”
“Good.”
Jackson leads me as we walk to the front entrance door of my apartment building.
“Keys, please?” he asks.
I fumble around in my purse, digging out my keys and handing them to Jackson, who unlocks the door. The paint on the door looks like it is chipping again, after it was only repainted not long ago.
We enter the lobby, greeted by the steep and narrow concrete staircase.
“Which floor is your apartment?” Jackson asks.
“Fourth.”
He loops an arm around my waist as I start slowly trekking up the stairs, holding the handrail with one hand and clinging to his jacket with the other. The thuds from people walking on floors above echo around us.
“Careful,” Jackson says. “One step at a time.”
I take another step up, relaxing into his fresh cologne. “What are we doing when we get home?”
We reach the second floor, or maybe it’s the third—I have no idea.
“You’re going to brush your teeth and go to bed,” he says.
I yawn. “That sounds boring.”
“Says the person who’s been yawning nonstop and complaining about missing their bed.”
“You’re such a know-it-all,” I huff. “Does someone pay you to be a know-it all?”
“Nope. Would you like to?”
I giggle again. “Nah. Nice try, buddy.”
We arrive at my apartment without me tripping or falling, and Jackson unlocks my door.
“Take off your shoes,” I say, managing to kick off my heels. “This is a partly Asian household.”
After living with me, Jen’s also picked up the habit of not wearing shoes indoors.
“Don’t worry,” Jackson says. “I was already planning to.”
The moment we’re inside, I’m reminded of the mess on the floor.
Since the living room mostly serves as a home studio for my business—thanks to Jen for letting me take up most of the space—there’s my cutting table, a clothes rack, mannequin, and a shelf that holds my fabric.
Currently, there are piles of new fabric sitting randomly around the floor.
I immediately regret not tidying things up before I left for the reunion, though in defense, I didn’t think the night would end with Jackson at my apartment.
“Okay, before you judge, I bought new fabric recently, but it doesn’t fit on my shelf,” I say. “I also need to buy a new shelf, and—”
I nearly trip over a pile of fabric, but once again, Jackson places a hand around me, preventing me from falling flat on my face.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
My gaze drifts to the clothes rack, an idea popping in my head.
“Do you want to see my designs for my fashion show?” I exclaim. A rush of energy bursts through me. “You can’t say no!”
From behind me, Jackson lets out a chuckle. “I’d never say no to you, Isabelle.”
“This is an exclusive sneak peek,” I say, sashaying over to the clothes rack. “You’re the first person, aside from Jen, to see them.”
“I feel very special then,” Jackson says, following me.
“As you should.” I point to the mannequin next to the clothes rack. “This is Emma, by the way.”
Jackson’s lips twitch with amusement. “What happened to Daisy?”
“She fell again and broke her hip.”
“Sorry to hear that,” he dryly says.
“Thanks.” I take the first dress off the rack and show it to him. It’s a white floral minidress that was inspired by the cheongsam, which is a traditional, form-fitting Chinese dress with a stand-up Mandarin collar and side slits.
“Anyway, this is the first one,” I say. “I wanted to design a few dresses in my collection to honor my culture.”
Jackson studies the dress, a softness in his eyes. “It’s beautiful. You’re so talented.”
I giggle and wave a hand. “Oh, you flatter me. Don’t say things like that, or I might become cocky like you.”
I’m expecting him to say something witty in return, but the tenderness in his facial expression doesn’t fade.
“It’s true.”
My body buzzes at his words, and I wonder what it’d be like if I kissed him right now. We already did it once tonight, so what harm could a second kiss do?
His eyes trail to my lips, as if he’s thinking of the same thing. But then he swallows and turns his head to stare at my clothes rack.
Oh. Guess I was wrong.
“Show me your next design.” Jackson’s voice comes out strained—or maybe I’m only imagining it.
Ignoring the disappointment gliding through me, I move on to the next outfit. It’s a floor-length lilac dress with tulle and hand-embroidered flowers. “This one’s inspired by my favorite song—‘Enchanted’ by Taylor Swift. I wanted to capture the same fairy-tale-like feeling of falling in love.”
Jackson is seemingly lost in thought as he stares at the dress, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
I wave a hand in front of his face. “Are you okay? What are you thinking about?”
He turns to look at me, and when he speaks, his voice is velvety, suave. “How beautiful you would look in that dress.”
Jackson Carter is calling me beautiful?
Exhilaration soars through my body, and I’m not just floating on cloud nine; I’m flying and dancing on it.
I remove the dress from its hanger and align it against my body, doing a twirl. Except now the entire room feels like it’s spinning around me.
“I feel so dizzy,” I groan.
“Let’s sit,” Jackson suggests.
“Okay,” I murmur.
Jackson guides me to the couch and walks to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water. “Drink this.”
“Thanks.” I take the glass. “You know, when you’re not acting all jackassy, you actually have a really caring and sweet side to you.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“It is one.”
I chug down the water, and when I’m done, Jackson takes my empty glass.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Amazing.” Sarcasm meets my voice as I glance down at the floor. “I’ve only sold seven tickets for my fashion show. On top of that, my sister hates my guts, and I don’t even know why. She deliberately chose to have her engagement party on the same day as my event.”
Great. I didn’t intend for all that to come out.
When I glance at Jackson again, something in his face has shifted. A muscle in his jaw pulses. Maybe he’s just pitying me right now. Poor Isabelle, complaining about her silly little life.
“Isabelle—”
“Hang on,” I interject, my stomach doing a funny twist and turn. “Hold that thought.”
Before he can say anything, I flee to the bathroom, managing to hunch over the toilet in time. I don’t expect Jackson to follow me. However, moments later, there’s the sound of footsteps, and I feel him gently holding my hair back.
“Let it out,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”
His voice is soothing, like a mug of peppermint tea, and while I can’t speak right now, I’m grateful. I’m grateful he’s here.
Once I’m done, I flush the toilet and head to the sink to brush my teeth. Jackson checks in on me as I finish washing my face, scrubbing off my makeup.
“God, I look horrible right now,” I croak out.
His eyes are hooded as he stares at me. “You’re still beautiful.”
“You always know the right things to say.” I stifle a yawn. “Gosh, I’m so sleepy.”
Jackson tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Go to bed, Bella. Everything will be okay tomorrow morning.”
I like the sound of that.
I stretch my arms. “Okay. Good night, jackass.”
With heavy eyelids and no energy to trek all the way to my bedroom, I walk back to the living room and lie down on the couch.
The last thing I register is a pair of strong hands carrying me before I give in to sleep.
A knock on my apartment door grabs my attention as I lie in bed. I tread over to my door, opening it to see Jackson standing there.
My eyes widen. “Jackson? What are you doing here?”
“Bella, I …” His gaze falls to my mouth. “I had to see you again. I’ve been thinking about you all night.”
“I’ve been thinking about you, too,” I breathe.
His eyes darken as he curls a hand around the back of my neck, and then his lips crash against mine, full of need. I tangle my hands in his hair, returning the kiss as fervently.
Jackson lifts me and carries me to my kitchen while I loop my legs around his waist. Then he props me on the kitchen counter and slowly, sensually trails a path of open-mouthed kisses along my jawline and neck.
“Keep going,” I beg, my voice a breathless plea.
He works his way down to my collarbone and the top of my chest. I arch my head back, a moan escaping my mouth as he—
My eyes snap open at the sound of my phone ringing.
I wake up flustered, hot, and tangled in my comforter, my breathing quick and chest heaving up and down. I’m in my bed, despite remembering falling asleep on the couch last night.
Did I really have a steamy dream starring Jackson?
Oh. My. God. I’m done. That’s it. My hormones have officially gone crazy.
No one can ever know about this. Not even Jen. And especially not Jackson. This is going inside my box of forbidden memories, with the box securely locked and the key thrown into the Hudson River.
The whole fake-dating thing and alcohol from last night is really messing with my head.
My phone continues ringing.