Chapter Eight: Catching Feelings by Rosaline Saul
Isabel sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her reflection
in the full-length mirror. The golden light of the setting sun painted the room
in warm hues, softening the sharp angles of her doubt-filled expression. She
brushed her fingers over the hem of her floral dress, a recent purchase she had
impulsively made earlier that afternoon.
“Maybe this is a mistake,” she murmured, chewing her lip. The words sounded hollow, even to herself.
Since arriving in Ibiza, she had spent most evenings on the
balcony, wrapped in the comforting monotony of the waves, avoiding the
pulsating life of the island but tonight was different. The air felt charged,
as if the universe itself whispered an invitation. A strange pull had tugged at
her all day, nudging her toward the nightlife she had so carefully avoided.
You deserve this. The thought made her pause. After months
of walking on eggshells around Jason—his clipped words, his twisted
accusations, the subtle erosion of her sense of self—maybe she did deserve
this. A night to lose herself in the rhythm of music, in a crowd where no one
knew her story. For a while, she could exist without the weight of her past.
Isabel inhaled deeply, the crisp ocean breeze filtering
through the open window. “Okay,” she whispered, as if sealing a pact with
herself. “Just one night.”
The club pulsed with life, a kaleidoscope of neon lights and
electrifying beats. Isabel hesitated at the entrance, her senses overwhelmed by
the crush of people, the thrum of bass reverberating in her chest. She clutched
her small purse tightly, her fingers brushing the silver chain like a talisman.
She almost turned back but then the music shifted, the
steady dembow rhythm cutting through the chaos, and she felt it—a strange
connection. It wasn’t just sound. It was a lifeline, pulling her into the crowd
like an unseen hand.
Christopher stood behind his DJ booth, a master conductor in
his element. His fingers danced over the mixer, blending tracks seamlessly,
each beat calibrated to elicit joy, nostalgia, and euphoria. The energy of the
room shifted under his command, bodies moving in synchrony to his rhythm.
His focus faltered when he saw her.
She stood at the edge of the dance floor, her figure
illuminated by the strobe lights. The floral pattern of her dress seemed to
ripple in the flickering colours, her wide eyes scanning the room nervously.
Why is she here? he wondered, his chest tightening. He had
convinced himself that their meeting on the beach was an anomaly—a fleeting
connection that he could forget. Seeing her now, vulnerable and radiant, made
it impossible to ignore the pull she had over him. Christopher adjusted his
headphones, forcing himself to focus. He had a job to do. Yet his eyes betrayed
him, drawn to her.
He stepped away from the DJ booth, nodding at Sam to take
over. The crowd seemed to part instinctively, their gazes following him with a
mix of awe and admiration. The air around him practically shimmered, his
presence drawing people in like a gravitational force. He wasn’t just a DJ; he
was the DJ—the maestro of their night, the one who turned fleeting moments into
unforgettable memories.
A girl near the bar nudged her friend, whispering excitedly
as she gestured toward him. A group of guys raised their glasses in
acknowledgment, nodding as if they were in the presence of a legend. Even those
too caught up in their own conversations couldn’t help but glance his way,
their smiles widening as if touched by his energy.
Christopher was used to this reaction by now, but tonight,
it felt heavier somehow. Each step toward Isabel was deliberate, his usual
confidence tinged with an unfamiliar nervousness. His charisma was
effortless—partly the allure of his divine nature, partly the magnetism of his
crafted DJ persona—but he’d never felt the weight of it so acutely.
Her fingers lightly gripped the edge of her glass as she
looked out toward the dance floor. She hadn’t noticed him, not yet, but her
profile, framed by the warm glow of the lights, held an unintentional grace
that made him falter for half a second.
Someone reached out as he passed—a light tap on his arm, a
whispered “Chris, you’re amazing tonight.”—and he turned briefly, offering his
signature smile and a quick nod. The crowd ate it up, but all he could think
about was the woman standing across the room, who had no idea of the pull she
had on him.
As he neared her, his heart did something strange—something
it had never done in centuries of immortal existence. It tripped, stumbled,
then steadied itself as if even it were trying to figure out how to react to
this moment.
When he finally stepped into Isabel’s view, she glanced up,
and their eyes locked. For a split second, the room seemed to still, the music
fading into the background as something unspoken passed between them. She
blinked, her lips parting slightly, and for the first time, Christopher
wondered if his so-called charm could ever feel as disarming as hers did to
him. He smiled, a hesitant but genuine expression that softened the sharp lines
of his face. “Enjoying the music?”
She blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, uh, yes. It’s… amazing.”
“Thanks.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, suddenly
unsure of himself. “It’s always nice to see someone who actually listens. Most
people just… dance.”
She laughed softly, the sound light and airy. “Well, I’m not
much of a dancer.”
“That makes two of us.” His eyes twinkled with amusement.
“Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.”
Isabel relaxed, her smile growing. “Your secret’s safe with
me.”
There was a brief, comfortable silence before he gestured
toward the quieter lounge area. “Do you want to sit for a bit? It gets loud in
here.”
She hesitated but nodded.
They settled into a corner booth, the distant thrum of the
music a comforting backdrop.
“So, what brings you to Ibiza?” he asked, leaning back with
an air of casual interest.
She hesitated, her fingers tracing patterns on the table. “A
change of scenery. And you?”
“Work,” he replied simply, though the weight behind the word
suggested there was more he was not saying.
They exchanged small talk, their conversation tentative at
first but as the minutes passed, the awkwardness melted away, replaced by an
easy rhythm. Christopher found himself laughing at her dry wit, while Isabel
was surprised by the warmth behind his reserved exterior.
“I have to admit,” she said, her eyes meeting his, “you’re
not what I expected.”
He raised a brow, smirking. “And what did you expect?”
“Someone more…” She searched for the word. “Intimidating.
You’re kind of… normal.”
“Normal?” He feigned offense. “I’m wounded.”
She laughed, the sound making his chest ache in a way he
could not explain.
Their conversation began to lull, not out of discomfort but
because the music, the ambiance, and their shared smiles seemed to fill the
spaces between words. Isabel glanced down at her empty glass, tracing its rim
with her finger, and Christopher watched her, debating with himself.
You shouldn’t, the rational part of him whispered. Then
there was the other part—the part that had drawn him to the beach that night,
the part that ached to know her better.
“I should probably let you get back to work,” Isabel said,
breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, but her eyes held a flicker of
disappointment.
Christopher hesitated for a beat before leaning forward,
resting his forearms on the edge of the table. “Actually… I finish up in a
couple of hours. If you’re still here, maybe we could grab a drink?”
Surprise flashed in her eyes. “Really?”
“Only if you want to,” he added quickly, his voice lighter
but his heart pounding. “No pressure. I just thought… I’d like to keep talking
with you. You’re easy to talk to.”
Isabel studied him, her thoughts a whirlwind. It had been so
long since someone had looked at her with genuine interest, without the
expectation of something in return. Part of her wanted to say no, to protect
herself. But another part—a quieter, braver part—urged her to take a chance.
“Okay,” she said, her lips curving into a small smile. “I’d
like that.”
Christopher’s grin was instant and warm, the kind that made
his eyes crinkle at the edges. “Great. I’ll find you once I’m done.”
He stood, giving her a quick, almost shy nod before heading
back to the DJ booth. Isabel watched him weave through the crowd, her stomach
fluttering in a way she had not felt in years.
As the music swelled again, she leaned back in her chair, a
small smile tugging at her lips.
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