Chapter Eight- “Not A Cinderella Story”.
Isabella Montague.
His lips slanted into a boyish, amused smile. “Yes. Me.” He didn’t deny it—reminding me that this is all real. He then leaned down to meet my height, yet again reminding me of his height over mine. “How was your night, Isabella?”
Even if I’d forgotten his face, I wouldn’t forget the way my name rolled out of his mouth—there’s a particular way he just does it that makes it sound different.
I blinked yet again, still finding it hard to accept and all. “How…”
He pressed his lips together, feigning confusion. “What do you mean, how? After you kissed me to get back at your ex, or the kiss later on and how we ended up here?” The corners of his lips tilted upwards slightly towards the end of his statement.
It was as if his words
