A Perfect Fit

20

Jackson

Enchanted (Taylor's Version) is a nearly six-minute song, and I plan on cherishing every second I get to dance with Bella.

As the opening chords of the song play, my hands loop around her waist whilst she ever so tentatively and slowly places her arms around my neck.

The music is gentle and angelic, and the lighting of the venue illuminates a dewy, almost fairytale-like glow that's caressing Isabelle's face.

I think I could dance with the woman of my dreams all night.

Bella is definitely shy right now—she's glancing around the room and she seems to be avoiding eye contact with me.

We're going to have to do something about that.

Removing the placement of my right hand from around her waist, I lift her chin, forcing her brown eyes to stare into mine.

"Are you nervous?" I tease.

"I'm not nervous," she insists, before backtracking on her words. "Okay, maybe just a little."

Everything about her is so precious, so beautiful, so special.

"If there's anything I can do to calm those nerves, just let me know, baby," I whisper.

"I...okay," she swallows.

"That's my good girl," I murmur, causing her lips to slightly part open.

As we reach the first chorus of the song, both my hands wrap around her waist again, and then, I pull her just a little bit closer to my body.

And closer.

And then even closer.

Until our faces are only mere inches apart, until I can almost feel her breath on my face, and until a simple kiss is all that is needed to close the remaining distance between us.

Fuck. I'm so tempted to kiss that pink lipstick away and then do a lot more than just that.

"Oh my god, Jackson." Isabelle suddenly lets out a tiny, nervous laugh, her brown eyes darting around. "We're so close right now."

"Are we?" I gaze right into her eyes, a smirk tugging on my lips. "Now it's my turn to ask you if that's good or bad."

She pauses as if to contemplate her response. "I mean, I guess it's probably a good thing if Hilary is nearby."

"Bella, forget about Hilary for a moment," I say, amusement underlining my voice. "She's not important."

She tentatively glances up at me, and although she doesn't say anything, it's as if her eyes are asking, "So what's important"?

"The only thing that matters to me is being in this moment with my beautiful date," I murmur, momentarily pressing my forehead against hers.

Her breath hitches. "Okay."

Our bodies move in perfect sync as we sway to her favorite song, as though it's the most natural thing ever and as though we've been doing this for our whole lives. Slowly, I slide my hands up her lower back, feeling the fabric of her dress.

"You're doing so well, Bella," I murmur.

A light blush paints her cheeks. "Thanks. You too."

I can't help but let out a tiny chuckle at her words. It seems like sassy Isabelle has taken a bit of a backseat recently, and I've been seeing more of shy Bella.

God, I love each and every one of those different sides to her.

"What's so funny?" she asks, her voice layered with a hint of playfulness.