Page 2 of A Perfect Fit

I wonder if the fire extinguisher on the plane is enough to put out his blazing ego. Probably not. Even ten fire extinguishers wouldn’t suffice.

“You know, you’d think that being exiled to London would humble you, but I guess there’s a higher chance of unicorns and elves appearing on this flight.”

Jackson’s deceiving eyes stare into mine. “And you’d think that growing up would teach you something about time management, but I suppose you’re still late to everything, as always.”

My jaw clenches as a strange yet familiar rush of energy bursts through me. Suddenly, it feels like it was only yesterday when Jackson and I were still teenagers at school, throwing insults at each other.

Determined to have the last word, I eye the cover of his book. “So, what are you reading? How to Be an Arrogant Prick 101?”

Jackson flashes a taunting smile. “Actually, it’s How to Deal with Annoying People 202. Quite convenient timing, if you ask me.”

In the background, several flight attendants are busy closing overhead compartments and checking everyone has their seat belts on. One attendant, whose name badge reads Sarah, stops by my and Jackson’s row.

“Ma’am, Mr. Carter, is everything okay?” she chirps.

“Everything’s great,” Jackson replies.

I shoot my seat neighbor a this is anything but great stare. He gives me another smile in return. A faker-than-a-toothpaste-advertisement smile.

“Wonderful. I’ll leave you to it then.” Sarah nods before saying to Jackson, “I hope the move back to New York goes well, Mr. Carter.”

My heart drops to my stomach. He’s moving back to New York?

Jackson tenses in his seat, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s not happy that Sarah just exposed his news.

Awkward bubbles of silence fill the air before Jackson finally speaks. “Thanks, Sarah.”

The pilot’s voice rings out as he begins his welcome aboard announcement, and I’m grateful for the interlude. Sarah struts off, presumably to prepare for the flight-safety demonstration, although not before offering Jackson a flirtatious smile.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, after all these years, he’s still a ladies’ magnet.

Jackson, however, doesn’t return Sarah’s sentiment. Interesting.

Twenty minutes later, we’re in the air, the plane passing through fluffy white clouds.

“So, what have you been up to these days?” I ask Jackson, who’s now pulled out his laptop and is typing away. “Managed to win the Nobel Prize yet?”

“Sure.” His eyes don’t leave his screen. “Won the Nobel Prize and discovered two new planets along the way.”

“Only two? That’s disappointing.”

Jackson shifts in his seat, his biceps flexing beneath his suit jacket. I tell myself to stop staring at his muscles or the way his long legs⁠—

“How about you? Found any new hobbies other than spilling and dropping things?”

I suck in a breath. Think positive, relaxing thoughts. Imagine a flower or a dandelion. Or butterflies and daisy meadows. I’m cool, calm, and collected.

“As a matter of fact, yes. Boxing. I have a punching bag with a photo of your face on it. It’s great stress relief.”

A pompous smirk crosses Jackson’s lips, and I want to do nothing more than ‌wipe it off his pretty—I mean, er … petty face.

“You have photos of me saved, Isabella?”

That’s what he took from what I said?

“A photo,” I correct. “For punching purposes, like I said.”

There’s a sudden wave of turbulence as the plane rocks sideways, and I jerk forward in my seat. In the row next to ours, a baby starts crying. Meanwhile, Jackson remains unfazed.