Isla
I wouldn’t think of Jennifer. I would focus on Jackson and pretend that this was a typical event, or else I would be too paralyzed to go up there.
Jackson’s eyes were filled with so much adoration, and his smile was infectious. He held out his hand when I got to the top of the stage, and my heart leaped to my throat. He was wearing a traditional black suit with a white shirt and a slightly silver tie. I didn’t think he could get any more attractive. He was looking at me like I was the only person in the world, and I hesitated in my step.
Holy f**k, he was all mine. I remembered where I was long enough to take a step forward. I stretched my hand out to him, smiling.
“You filthy b***h!” I didn’t look at the person that the shout came from.
Jackson and I didn’t break eye contact.
