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A knock at the door startled me from my reverie, and I peeked through the window blinds to see a sleek black vehicle idling at the curb below.
This was it—the beginning of something new.
Grabbing my purse and rolling my suitcase behind me, I opened the door to leave when something caught my eye—a photo on the small table by the entrance.
It was an old picture of Grandpa and me at one of the dress design competitions years ago when I was seventeen. His proud smile beamed at me from across time.
“I won't let you down,” I whispered, touching the glass briefly before turning away.
Locking up felt symbolic—like sealing away one chapter before stepping into another. As I made my way down, each step echoed in the empty hallway—an audible countdown to an unknown future.
The driver greeted me with a nod as he took my luggage, stowing it carefully before opening the passenger door for me.
As we drove away from everything familiar, I watched buildings and streets give way to open roads—the cityscape dissolving into horizons filled with promise. My hands folded in my lap, fingers twisting nervously. There were so many questions swirling in my mind—about Colton and Jaxon, about what they expected from me as their girl during this trip, about how much this experience would change me.
The car glided to a halt, and as I stepped out, the private airport's opulence struck me—a world so far removed from my own. The tarmac stretched out like a black sea, at the edge of which sat a luxurious plane, its sleek body glistening under the midday sun.
Colton and Jaxon stood before it, dressed in white that complemented their relaxed, vacation-ready postures. Their presence seemed to command the space around them—two statues of modern-day Greek gods who had decided to mingle with mere mortals.
I took a tentative step forward, clutching my purse a little tighter. The heat from the asphalt rose in waves, yet it was their stunned stares that made sweat gather at the nape of my neck.
Their eyes latched on to me as if I were a rare spectacle, a vision that they hadn't expected to grace the mundane backdrop of the tarmac. I felt the intensity of their gazes, as if their pupils dilated solely for the purpose of capturing this image of me.
Colton's lips parted slightly, a breath he hadn't intended to release slipping past them. Jaxon's posture, once relaxed and casual, straightened—a reflex action as though my presence demanded it.
The air between us charged with an electric current that hummed with silent words and unasked questions. Their eyes held me, searching, probing beneath the surface of my transformed exterior.
Jaxon let out a low whistle—a sound that might have been offensive in another context but now carried a note of genuine awe.
“Delcy,” he said, drawing out my name like it was a discovery he was savoring for the first time.
It was surreal, feeling their attention blanket me like a tangible force—a hunger in their eyes that seemed to feast on every detail of my appearance. The way they looked at me wasn't just about physical attraction; it was deeper, as if they recognized something in me that resonated within themselves—something beyond mere beauty.
I watched as Colton's adamantine facade cracked just enough to let slip a small smile—a rarity that spoke volumes more than any words could. There was admiration there, and perhaps something more tender, something he usually kept shielded behind layers of control and businesslike detachment.
Jaxon moved closer, his stride confident yet filled with a kind of reverence as if he approached something precious. His hand rose as though he wanted to touch my hair—to confirm that I was real and not some figment conjured up by his imagination.
“Look at you,” he said when he finally stood before me. His voice held an edge of wonderment that made my heart race faster.
Colton joined us then, closing the space with measured steps. The sunlight played across his features, casting half his face in shadow and highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones.
“You're stunning,” he said simply, his voice low and filled with an emotion I couldn't quite place—a sentiment that seemed too vast to be contained within those two words.
I felt exposed under their hungry gazes—seen in a way that left little room for doubt or modesty. It was empowering and disarming all at once. Their reactions told me they saw not just the Delcy who had been polished by stylists and makeup artists but also the Delcy who dreamed big dreams in a small apartment—the Delcy who sketched dress designs into the late hours of night.
The weight of their stares should have made me want to shrink back into myself—to find shelter in anonymity once again. But instead, I found myself stepping into their regard with an unexpected boldness. Their appreciation was like sunlight coaxing a flower open. I felt myself blooming under its warmth.
For so long, I'd convinced myself that men like Colton and Jaxon would never see me—really see me—for who I was or could be. But here they were, looking at me as if I were someone worth noticing—someone worth knowing beyond surface impressions and first encounters.
Colton reached out then—hesitant yet deliberate—and brushed a stray hair from my face. His touch sent shivers down my spine, gentle yet filled with unspoken promise. The contact was brief but electric—leaving behind an imprint that lingered like the afterglow of a fading star.
Jaxon leaned in closer too—a conspiratorial glint in his eyes as he whispered, “Let's get our vacation started and have some fun, darling.”
His endearment sent a ripple through me—warm and unsettling all at once. It was a reminder of how different our worlds were, and yet here I was, about to step into his.
As we boarded the plane together—their hands occasionally brushing against mine or guiding me gently by the small of my back—I knew we were embarking on more than just a trip to an island retreat. We were stepping into a chapter where roles might shift and lines might blur.
Colton's and Jaxon's hungry gazes had not diminished as we settled into our seats—their eyes still held stories untold and questions unasked—but there was time ahead for all that... time measured not by hours or days but by moments shared and memories made.
As we took off, leaving solid ground behind, I thought about Grandpa. I wouldn't let him down—I couldn't. Not when he had given me so much without asking for anything in return. For Grandpa's sake—and for mine—I would conquer this new world with every thread of determination I possessed.
* * *
