He Wouldn't Claim Me — Another Man Did-Chapter 62 - 56: One Bed

Isla Prescott subconsciously held her breath, but their senses were intertwined. His clean scent and the faint hint of tea passed into her body through their kiss, like an early spring breeze slipping into a frozen river valley, stirring a warm commotion in her veins.

The moment their tongues brushed, a tremor ran through her, as if she could taste the very shape of his soul.

Shane Sterling couldn’t help but hold her tighter.

Isla Prescott felt his heartbeat, like a flock of startled birds fluttering wildly in his chest. It was the beautiful, clumsy panic of first love finally realized.

The deeper they kissed, the more his inexperience showed.

Isla Prescott was clasped in his arms, kissed until she was breathless.

"Mmph..." she protested.

But Shane Sterling was completely unwilling to stop the kiss. He only wanted to kiss her deeper, and for longer.

Fortunately, Isla Prescott’s phone rang.

When the ringtone sounded, Isla Prescott pushed him away.

Shane Sterling was still breathing hard, his hand resting on her waist, unwilling to let go.

Isla Prescott glanced at the caller ID and reminded him softly, "It’s my mom."

"Answer it."

Isla Prescott answered the call. It was Susan Dudley, asking why she hadn’t made it to the hospital. Isla had been visiting at the same time every day for the past few days, and since she was late, her mother was worried something had happened.

"Auntie, Isabelle is with me." After steadying his breath, Shane Sterling called out to Susan Dudley on the other end of the line.

The moment Susan Dudley heard Shane Sterling’s voice, she instantly relaxed. "Sean, you’re back! That’s wonderful. You two have fun, I won’t disturb you. Tell Isabelle she doesn’t need to rush to the hospital. I’m fine by myself for now."

"Okay, Auntie. I’ll bring her back to keep you company in a little while."

After the call ended, the world suddenly fell silent.

An awkwardness lingered in the air, the kind that follows a moment of intimacy.

"I..."

"I’m not done kissing you."

Shane Sterling gazed at her, his expression direct. He lowered his head and captured her lips again, kissing her with a deep, lingering passion.

There was no technique, only pure emotion.

Isla Prescott clutched his shirt. Her tongue ached, growing numb from his artless, unrestrained exploration.

When the kiss ended, Isla Prescott couldn’t help but lean on his shoulder and laugh.

"What are you laughing at?" Shane Sterling asked.

"I’m starting to believe it now."

"Believe what?"

"That you’re all theory and no practice."

’He has the face of a heartbreaker, the kind that attracts endless romantic entanglements, yet he can barely kiss. What a delightful contrast.’

The rims of Shane Sterling’s ears gradually turned red. "Are you making fun of me right now?"

"I’m not making fun of you. I’m just stating a fact."

"It’s not like you’re that much better."

"At least a little better than you." ’After all, she’d had some experience—two or three times, anyway.’

"And you’re proud of it," Shane Sterling snorted. He pinched her chin and gave her lips a hard, punishing peck. "In that case, I’ll just have to bother you to help me practice more."

"As if I’d help you practice."

"Don’t be stingy. Once I get good at it, won’t you be the one to benefit?"

"..."

--

The next day, Isla Prescott moved.

She didn’t have much, just two suitcases that she had temporarily stored at her studio.

Shane Sterling was also moving. He had a lot of things, but he didn’t need to move them himself.

As Isla Prescott went upstairs, she saw Shane Sterling’s special assistant, Justin Wyatt, directing the movers to sort and organize Shane Sterling’s belongings.

"Miss Prescott." Seeing her, Justin Wyatt came over to greet her.

"Hello, Assistant Vaughn."

"Miss Prescott, do you have any more things? Do you need help?"

"Oh, no, thank you. I just have two suitcases."

As they were talking, the elevator doors opened, and a few more movers came up with more items. The one walking at the very back was the most conspicuous, because he was only holding a small crystal box. Inside the box was a salted plum lollipop.

Isla Prescott recognized it by the golden twist tie on the lollipop; it was the one she had bought for Shane Sterling at the tuck shop.

’Using a crystal box to hold a cheap lollipop was a bit like valuing the case over the jewels. She had no idea what Shane Sterling was thinking.’

Noticing Isla’s gaze, Justin Wyatt smiled and said, "Young Mr. Shaw gave special instructions to bring that over."

"Does he like candy that much?"

"Not really. He doesn’t usually eat sweets."

"Then what’s this for?"

Justin Wyatt shook his head and said honestly, "I’m not sure either, but Young Mr. Shaw must have his reasons for preserving it like this."

’Fair enough. A man like him is hard to figure out.’

After organizing her things, Isla Prescott went to the studio for her classes.

Her commute was much more convenient now. She didn’t even need the subway; she could just walk to the studio.

After finishing two classes in the afternoon, Isla Prescott and Annabelle Leighton rehearsed a dance for another hour.

Their social media account had been gaining traction lately, so they were both fired up. They didn’t want to miss an update, and they couldn’t afford to.

After rehearsing, the two of them sat on the dance studio floor, drinking water and resting.

"Isabelle, you moved into your new place today. Want me to come celebrate with you later?" Annabelle Leighton asked.

"No." A cool voice came from the doorway.

Isla and Annabelle turned around at the same time. Shane Sterling was leaning against the doorframe—who knew how long he’d been there. He had answered for Isla, rejecting Annabelle’s offer.

Annabelle Leighton rolled her eyes dramatically. "Why not?"

"Because her boyfriend is going to celebrate with her."

"Tsk, tsk. Look at you, so smug. So now that you two are dating, you’re just going to ditch me?"

"When you and Morgan Hayes are together, do you want me to tag along?"

"Of course not! Who would want you as a third wheel?"

"Exactly. You have to learn to see things from other people’s perspectives." Shane Sterling walked over to Isla Prescott and took her hand. "Let’s go. Time to go home."

Isla Prescott looked at Annabelle Leighton apologetically. Annabelle waved her hand impatiently. "Go on, get out of here! Don’t let the stench of your lovey-dovey romance infect me!"

The two walked home. After they got to the sixth floor, Shane Sterling said, "We’re eating at my place today."

"Okay, let me go back and take a shower and change first." She was covered in sweat from dance practice.

"Okay."

After her shower, Isla Prescott threw on a white T-shirt and a pair of loose, light gray pants. Her half-dry hair was loose down her back, giving her a very casual, comfortable look.

The door to Shane Sterling’s apartment next door was open. As soon as she walked in, she smelled the aroma of food.

The dining table was laden with dishes, and Shane Sterling was standing beside it, lighting candles.

"What’s the occasion? You even lit candles?"

"To celebrate us moving in together."

"Don’t be ridiculous. Who’s moving in with you?"

"Living on the same floor is practically the same as living together."

Isla Prescott: "..."

"Come and sit." Shane Sterling pulled out a chair for her.

’Isla had expected a simple meal, but this was so formal. She suddenly felt completely underdressed.’

"Should I go change, then?"

"Change for what? I asked you to dinner, not to a performance."

Isla Prescott sat down.

The dishes on the table were exquisite: Matsutake mushroom and chicken soup, fish fillets in a sour soup with green peppercorns, honey-glazed roasted char siu, a seasonal Yan Du Xian soup, wasabi shrimp balls... and a few desserts.

"Did you make all of this?"

"You give me too much credit."

All the dishes were takeout from the hotel next door; he had only been responsible for plating them.

"So it’s all takeout."

"Yes."

Isla Prescott didn’t get it. "You plated takeout? Who’s going to do the dishes later?"

"Miss Prescott, could you please be a little more romantic? You’re not supposed to be thinking about washing dishes during a candlelight dinner."

"Oh. So, who’s washing them?"

"I’ll do them, I’ll do them," Shane Sterling said, exasperated. "From now on, I’ll do all the dishes at our place. How about that?"

’He sounded so sincere that for a moment, Isla almost believed they could actually have a future together.’

--

After dinner, Shane Sterling began to clear the table.

He had no experience with chores. While carrying the dishes to the kitchen, he stacked them so high that he nearly dropped the entire pile on the floor.

Isla had intended to just let him handle it, but she couldn’t bear to watch any longer and ended up helping him with the dishes.

Under the warm yellow light, the two of them stood side-by-side at the kitchen sink. The sound of running water mixed with the soft clinking of dishes. Their elbows would brush against each other from time to time, and a warm, flirtatious atmosphere quietly began to unfold.

After washing the dishes, Shane Sterling suggested they go for a walk to aid their digestion. Isla Prescott changed into a pair of comfortable shoes, and they went downstairs together.

In the residential complex’s park, many retirees were line dancing. They held hands and walked a lap around the park. When they reached the lakeside, Shane Sterling suddenly turned and asked her, "Do you know how to skip stones?"

"No."

"Watch me."

He carefully selected a stone from the ground, walked to the edge of the lake, leaned back to find the right angle, and then flicked the stone out with a snap of his wrist.

The stone was obedient, hopping again and again across the water’s surface, making a perfect skip.

"Wasn’t that great?" Shane Sterling looked back at Isla Prescott, clearly fishing for a compliment.

"Great."

"Could you try not to be so perfunctory?"

"Great, great, truly great. Did you secretly install an anti-gravity device in that stone? Newton must be rolling in his grave. What happened to the law of gravity?" She looked at him with mock flattery. "Young Mr. Shaw, how’s that for praise?"

Shane Sterling laughed. "I guess that’ll do."

They continued walking. A vendor was selling fruit from the back of a pickup truck, and Isla Prescott picked out a basket of lychees. When they passed a bakery, they went in and bought some pretzels and croissants for the next day’s breakfast...

Everything about that evening felt like sun-drenched cotton. It lacked the splendor of silk, but it could absorb emotional dampness and withstand being washed and worn time and again.

’If days could grow like tree rings,’ Isla thought, ’it wouldn’t be so bad for life to cycle through these ordinary moments, slowly, steadily moving toward the future.’

But the reality was, even though they lived in the same building as neighbors, they couldn’t see each other every day. They were each busy with their own lives, especially Shane Sterling.

He was either on a business trip or at a social function. Several times, he didn’t come home until the middle of the night, long after Isla Prescott had gone to sleep.

After not seeing each other for a few days, they slipped back into their "online romance" mode.

During a break in a meeting, Shane Sterling sent her a message: "It seems being neighbors hasn’t solved the problem of us hardly ever seeing each other."

Isla Prescott: "Do you have any better ideas?"

"In our situation, if we want to see each other every day, the only solution is to sleep in the same bed."