New Everything

I could be anyone. I could be anyone. I could be anyone. 

That mantra has been running on repeat in my head. And now I was standing in the middle of the suite Jackson had booked for us. 

I was standing right in the middle, in another country, and I couldn't fucking believe it. Jackson had taken care of everything like he’d promised he would. I had lied to my father and Lilian that I was going on a road trip with my new friend—well, that wasn't exactly a lie, and the café already found a temporary replacement. 

And I was in a five-star hotel in Vancouver. I felt like I was going to throw up from nerves. I sat at the edge of the bed, my hands folded in my lap, and waited.

I needed Jackson to be here so I could know it was real. Till then, I didn't know what to do with myself. 

He had wanted us to travel together, our seats next to each other in the plane, but I glared at him and refused. People still didn't know we knew each other, or we were… stepsiblings. I wanted it to remain that way, not for me, but for him. If we traveled together, his teammate would see us together. And since men gossiped more than women, by the time the school break was over, everybody would have known. 

So I waited, my sweaty palms pressed together. I didn't move for an hour, and finally, I heard the door open. I was on my feet in an instant.

“Shit, how do–”

“Is this really happening?” I asked, cutting Jackson off as I literally jumped in front of his face. He pushed his sunglasses up into his hair so I could see him raise an eyebrow. 

“What?”

I was panting, my eyes wide, and I knew I looked wild. “Am I… am I really in another country?”

Jackson gave me a look like I've lost my mind. “Check your map, darling, and confirm that yourself.”

I huffed. “Prick,” I muttered under my breath, about to turn, but then I paused. I turned back to him very slowly, really looking at him.

As usual, he was dressed in all black, but today, it was a really different style. He wore straight black pants instead of jeans. He wore a black button-up shirt that was open at the top, exposing his wide chest. He threw on a black coat that stopped below his knees. He sealed it all with black Italian loafers. Loafers, I say!

“You…” I swallowed because I suddenly felt that urge that hasn't gone away since that day at the bar. 

It has only grown, and we haven't been this close since that day. I looked back at his eyes and saw he was already watching me with that intense look, his hair pushed away from his face, making his features appear sharp.

“You look…” Good. “... like a proper Englishman.”  

He slowly raised an eyebrow. “Did you ever, for once, doubt my origin?"

I hummed. “Now and then.” 

He huffed as he rolled his luggage in, shutting the door. 

“Welcome to Vancouver, Siri,” he said with a dramatic sweep of his hands over the room.

That excitement returned, and I was partially bouncing on my feet. “When do we begin the tour?”

He put his sunglasses back on like he wasn't indoors. “Right now. You’re the tourist. Pick somewhere.”

I stared at him. “I have never been a tourist.”

He hummed, pressing his lips together as he nodded. 

I gave him a look. “You have this look on.”

He looked at me through his sunglasses. “What look?”

“The look that says you’re about to make it your personal mission to show me the entire country.”

“You damn bloody right I am. Get dressed.” 

And so I was bundled into a coat, and the tour began. 

The first stop was the seawall, surrounded by mountains and waters. Everything was different: the people, the currency. Everything!

And it was so goddamn exciting. 

As we walked, surrounded by hundreds of people, nobody stopped to stare at me, nobody whispered, and no one person knew my history. I stopped walking.

Jackson stopped as well and turned back to me. “Siri?”

I stared at the people walking past us, and not a single glance came my way. 

“Nobody knows me,” I whispered. I looked back at Jackson and his tight eyebrows. “Here. Nobody knows who I am.”

His expression softened. “Yeah. Nobody does.”

I smiled and started walking again. We moved to a much busier part next, where there were different food stalls and shops with things that lured me in, and I tried different things: food, drinks. And trust that I didn't miss out on the alcohol. 

I released a breath as I took a little sip from the bottle of liquor, and then I heard the shutter of a camera. My head snapped to Jackson.

“Delete that,” I snarled.

“No.”

“Jackson.”

“Siri.”

“I look horrible!”

He stared down at the phone screen, then looked back at me. “No, you don't."

I looked away. 

It was almost six, and so we were making our way back to the hotel. We crossed the street when Jackson held my hand like it was the most normal thing in the world. I stared down at our joined hands, our interlocked fingers. 

Something tightened in my chest. I ripped my hand away before it could tighten further. Jackson looked back at me with an eyebrow raised. 

“What was that?”

I stared ahead, shoving my hands into my coat pockets. “What?”

“You just ripped your hand away like mine caught on fire.”

“I was hot.”

He stared around at the freezing evening air, at my breath clouding in front of me. He looked away. 

“Right…”

There was a tone in his voice, a tone that was different from his usual bright tone. We walked back to the hotel without a word, and as soon as we got into the room, Jackson changed and made his way out.

“I’m going to practice," he said, and he was gone.

I sighed as I dropped down on the bed like a starfish, staring up at the expensive ceiling. 

That was… awkward. There has never been an awkward moment between us until now. A thought flew into my head, and I sat up quickly, my eyes wide as I stared at nothing.

We… We were going to share a bed tonight!