Page 57 of A Perfect Fit

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.