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Isabelle

I'm walking down the hallway at Cherrybrooke High for my very first day. People are staring at me and giving me weird looks. Ignoring them, I continue to walk ahead, my footsteps leading me through the courtyard and inside the school gymnasium. It's crowded inside and around me, I'm seeing the faces of people who I used to know. Suddenly, the door swings opens, and a fuzzy figure of someone who I think I've met before walks inside. All heads in the room turn to stare at the brown hair and brown eyed man, as if he's some kind of celebrity.

"Who's that?" someone asks me.

"My boyfriend," I reply.

My eyes snap wide open, bringing me back to reality on the plane and out of my dream.

That was weird.

I blink a few times, sit up straight in my seat and then stare blankly at the screen in front of me. Two hours and twenty-two minutes. That's the time left on this flight until we land in New York, according to the flight map. It's funny I'm seeing angel numbers, considering I might as well be sitting next to the devil right now.

Beside me, Jackson is still asleep, his chest gently heaving up and down and his dark brown hair slightly tousled. I realize that he's taken off his suit jacket, which does slightly make him more human. If he had slept in his suit jacket too, that would've certainly given me something else to roast him about.

Maybe I could pull a little prank on him right now. Something harmless, like draw something on his face, for example. He probably wouldn't even notice.

I reach out to grab my handbag and take out my make-up bag from inside. Picking my weapon of choice, my eyeliner, I decide to opt for drawing some innocent cat whiskers. I know it is petty and childish, but as I said, I doubt I'll be seeing him again after this flight so why not have a little fun with it?

Plus, it's not everyday that you get an opportunity to draw on Jackson Carter's face.

I'm just about to lean forward closer toward Jackson, when he suddenly begins to stir. His sudden movement serves as a distraction and I end up accidentally dropping my eyeliner on the ground. Fumbling around, I bend down to pick it up and when I look back up, Jackson's eyes meet mine. He stares suspiciously at the eyeliner in my hand and then raises a brow, as if he knows what I had been planning on doing.

"It's still you," he utters.

"The disappointment is mutual," I sing-song, placing my eyeliner back in my bag.

"Sleep well, bedhead?" he then derisively asks.

I turn around to face him again. "Very. I actually had a dream that I was back at Cherrybrooke High and you were being tossed into a pool of electric eels." That second part obviously isn't true but he doesn't need to know that.

"Mm, interesting," comes his reply. "It must be because you always have such a macabre imagination."

"Only when it comes to you," I smile.

Jackson leans back on his seat and rests his chin in his hands. "So let me get this straight. First you have a punching bag with my face on it and now you're having dreams about me too," he says, pretending to be in deep thought. "If I didn't know better, I would've thought that you were secretly obsessed with me."

My jaw tightens and I furrow my brows. God, how big is this guy's ego?

"Aw look at you, coming up with your cute little hypothesis," I mock and clasp my hands together. "Too bad the probability of that happening is probably about as non-existent as your love life."

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