A Perfect Fit

1

Isabelle

There are many things in modern day life that can be irritating: slow internet, waiting for a video to buffer, battling through a heavy storm with an umbrella that keeps flipping inside out, someone purposely spoiling the ending of a book or movie, making a dash for the subway or elevator only to see the doors close right in front of you, and so on and so forth. Inconveniences. First world problems, if you will.

Then there's the realization that your seat neighbor on an eight hour flight back home is no one other than your high school nemesis and rival.

It was the perfect way to end my trip in London and my first vacation in five years—sarcasm intended.

This could've been the start to my real life romcom story. I could've been seated next to a cute stranger. We'd make small talk and maybe rant a little about our respective lives. Then, there'll be turbulence on the plane and I'll end up grabbing his hand, and eventually, I'll accidentally fall asleep on his shoulder. When the flight is over, we'll part ways but then still somehow end up bumping into each other again and again in the most random places.

But of course, the universe had other plans.

Right now, I'm sliding into my seat and my gaze is flickering across to the dark-haired man beside me who's engrossed in the newspaper he's currently reading. It's covering half his face but just a glimpse of his side-profile alone is quite jaw-dropping.

Brown eyes coupled with dark brown hair, plus a perfectly chiseled jaw. A face that's handsome with a capital 'H', a face that will leave you gawking, and a face that could easily grace the cover of any fashion magazine.

But don't you dare let Jackson Carter's looks deceive you.

You'd think that karma would do its magic, but nope, there he is in all his glory, wearing a dark navy blue suit that's fitted perfectly against his broad chest and shoulders; a stark contrast to the five layers of clothing I messily threw on.

Of course, he's one of those people who would wear a full suit on an eight-hour flight.

Why am I wearing five layers, you may ask? Well, when I checked in at the airport it turned out my luggage was overweight, and being the person I am, I refused to pay an extra fee or throw anything out. Hence why I look like I could be having my own Joey from Friends "could I be wearing any more clothes?" moment right now. It's not exactly my most chic outfit, but I'm a firm believer that fashion is a form of self-expression, and right now, my clothes are a perfect representation of the mess I've found myself in.

But that's beside the point.

I watch out of the corner of my eye as Jackson turns the page to his newspaper. So far, he hasn't even glanced up or turned around. He doesn't know I'm sitting next to him. Or maybe he's noticed me but doesn't remember who I am given we haven't seen each other in eight years. Or, he's simply pretending that I don't exist. All very plausible.

And because I feel the need to dig my own grave, I break the silence.

"Jackson Carter, great to see you again," I begin, my voice layered with sarcasm. "What are you reading? 'How to be an arrogant prick 101?'"

Jackson finally puts his newspaper down and turns around. A confused look permeates his face for a few moments as he gives my face and five-layered outfit a scan, before he raises a brow, recognition hitting him.

"Isabella Curtis," he smirks. "Sorry to disappoint but no, I'm actually reading 'how to deal with annoying people 202'. Pretty convenient timing actually."