Page 48 of A Perfect Fit

There’s a storm brewing, and it’s my fault. Trying to ignore my now-clammy palms, I shut my eyes. Maybe if I squeeze them tight enough, I can magically transport myself back to my bedroom.

Nope, I’m still here. Well, it was worth a try.

“You’re dating Jackson Carter?” Oliver asks again, an edge to his voice.

This time, more people turn to look at us. Including Jackson and his fans.

The look on Jackson’s face is unreadable, to say the least. Even though he offered to be my fake boyfriend, I never agreed to our deal, and so to suddenly hurl him into my little last-minute charade probably won’t sit well with him. He’s going to call me out on my bluff, and everyone will think I’m crazy.

I’m going to be the laughingstock of tonight.

Loud crunching noises surround us. “Does anyone else want popcorn?” It’s Simon, a guy who used to be in my math class, speaking.

“Uh …” I stammer. My dress and heels feel too constricting, too tight. I’m frozen, my feet glued to the floor as I feel the heavy weight of every person’s gaze on me.

“That’s right,” Jackson suddenly says. “We’re dating.”

Not only is he speaking, but he’s also walking toward me, his gaze fixed on me.

Holy cow.

“Damn, he’s taken,” Nancy, a girl who used to be in my chemistry class, mutters.

“If you have a problem with my girlfriend, you can deal with me,” Jackson adds, authority coloring his voice.

Holy cow times ten.

There’s a dangerous, unwavering look in Jackson’s brown eyes as he glares at Oliver. I dig through my vocabulary to think of the right word to describe him right now, and one in particular springs to mind.

Protective.

I think I’ve just unlocked Jackson in protective mode.

My heart beats loudly against my chest like a bongo drum, my mouth turning dry. Oddly, only when Jackson is standing beside me, with his hand on the small of my back, does my heartbeat begin to slow down.

He gives me a gentle look, and amid the chaos, his presence is comforting. Calming. Reassuring.

“No. No problem at all, man.” Oliver places his hands in his pockets and flashes a diplomatic smile at me and Jackson. “I guess I just didn’t see that coming.”

Jackson doesn’t say anything or even bother making eye contact with Oliver. Instead, he pulls me closer to him.

“Sorry I’m late, Bella,” he murmurs against my ear, his voice husky and suave. I’m met with the smell of his cologne—that fresh yet intoxicating scent with a hint of evergreen and pine. “That dress looks even more beautiful on you in person, baby.”

It’s not just his close proximity and compliment now causing heat to creep up my body and a crazy, fluttery feeling in my stomach, butterflies of all shapes, colors, and sizes escaping from their cages. It’s also him calling me baby and his newest nickname for me.

Bella. Isabella.

My dad and friends call me Belle. My ex called me Izzy. But Bella? This is new. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.

Everyone looks eager to see what will happen next, like they’re tuning in to a drama-filled episode of a reality TV show. I don’t exactly blame them; they know Oliver and I used to date and that Jackson and I weren’t friends. This is the high school reunion drama you’d be here for.

“So, how did you two get together?” Patricia, another former classmate, asks me.

I fiddle again with my scrunchie. “We, uh, reunited on a plane ride from London to New York. I was on vacation in London, and Jackson was moving back to New York. We … started talking again, one thing led to another, and here we are.”

Technically, that’s not a lie.

Patricia purses her lips. “Didn’t you hate each other back in high school?”