Drawn To You (GirlxGirl)

Part 57

Jessie's P.O.V

"The brushstrokes really evoke a sense of melancholy, don't they?"

That voice. My breath hitched in my chest, freezing me in place as the words echoed in my ears. I recognised them immediately—not just the sentence, but the voice. The soft lilt, the warmth, the way it always made me feel grounded even when the world around me was chaotic.

No. It wasn't possible.

My heart pounded so hard it hurt, each beat crashing against my ribs, refusing to believe that what I had just heard was real.

It couldn't be her. Not here. Not now.

I gripped the edge of the canvas in front of me, my knuckles white as I stood motionless, refusing to turn.

My mind swirled with a thousand thoughts.

Surely, I had imagined it. It had to be some sick coincidence—someone else using those exact words, someone with a voice similar enough to trick me. This couldn't be real.

But I knew. I knew deep down that it was.

My hands trembled as I slowly, cautiously, allowed myself to turn. I wasn't sure what I was expecting to see, or maybe I was too afraid to hope that it was really her.

The noise of the gallery—people chatting, clinking glasses, feet shuffling on the floor—it all faded into a distant blur as I finally faced the direction that the voice had come from.

And then I saw her.

Allie.

My breath caught in my throat, my heart nearly stopping as my eyes locked onto hers. She stood there, like some kind of mirage, the same girl who had haunted my thoughts for the past seven months. The girl I had left Glasgow to forget, the girl I couldn't seem to get out of my head no matter how much time or distance I put between us.

She was standing in front of me. In New York.

I blinked, trying to make sense of it. Was I dreaming? Was my mind playing cruel tricks on me? But no, she was real. Allie was really here, looking at me with those same wide, nervous eyes, the ones that used to make me feel like I could see straight into her soul. Her long, brunette hair cascaded down her back.

"Hi, Jessie," she said softly, a shy smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Her voice. The sound of my name on her lips, after all this time, hit me like a wave. It had been so long since I'd heard her say it, so long since I'd heard her speak at all, and now that she was here, in front of me, it was like every wall I'd carefully built around myself came crashing down in an instant.

I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. I couldn't find my voice. My thoughts were a mess, tangled in the storm of emotions that seeing her again had stirred up. Shock, confusion, disbelief, and somewhere deep beneath all of that—hope.

Why was she here? How was she here? Did she know what this night meant to me?

I stared at her, hoping she would tell me what was going on, why she had shown up out of nowhere. But Allie just stood there, looking as nervous as I felt.

"Allie?" I finally managed to choke out, my voice shaky, barely more than a whisper. "What... how...?"

I shook my head, trying to clear it. Nothing made sense.

"What are you doing here?" I asked slowly, my eyes still wide, my heart still pounding through my chest as if it would burst.

Allie took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she gathered the words.

"I... I had to see you, Jessie," she said quietly, her voice soft, almost fragile. "I had to tell you that I'm sorry. Sorry for being too scared to walk through that door and see that what's on the other side is exactly what I need."

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, leaving me breathless. She had heard my speech? She had been here that whole time?

My cheeks flushed as I realised that Allie had heard everything I'd said on stage—the way I had described her without saying her name, the way I had poured my heart out through my paintings. She had been listening.

"And, I had to tell you that..." she paused, her voice catching for a moment.

The world around us seemed to fade even more, the gallery, the city—everything becoming a distant hum, as if New York itself was holding its breath, waiting for her next words.

"I love you, Jessie. I've loved you for a long time."

I felt the air leave my lungs, my entire body going numb with shock. Her words hung in the air between us, so heavy, so full of everything I had longed to hear but had never allowed myself to believe I would. My heart stopped, then raced, then stopped again.

I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. My legs felt weak beneath me, and I had to draw in a sharp breath just to keep from collapsing under the weight of it all. Everything I had felt for her, everything I had buried, was rising to the surface now, swirling inside me with such force that I didn't know how to process it.

I stared at her, my mind spinning, my pulse roaring in my ears. I couldn't tell if I was dreaming or if this was really happening. And then, just as I tried to find something, anything, to say, the moment was shattered.

"Jessie," Nick's voice cut through the haze, startling me back into the present. "Hey, we're going to be closing soon."

I blinked, trying to snap back to reality, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from Allie. She gave me a small, apologetic look, her lips parting as if to say she was sorry for showing up, for interrupting my big night. I didn't want her to back away, but she did. Just a step. And then another, like she was trying to fade into the background.

I didn't let my eyes leave hers. Like I was too scared that if I looked away, even for a second, she would disappear. Again.

Nick followed my gaze, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Is that... the girl in the paintings?" he asked, his voice quieter now, as though he could sense how important this moment was.

I didn't respond with words. I just nodded, barely able to take my eyes off her. Nick must have realised how monumental this was for me because he gave me a soft nudge.

"Go," he said, a smile tugging at his lips. "I'll tie things up here. Just go."

I swallowed hard, nodding again as I forced myself to move.

"Thanks," I murmured, not trusting my voice to say much more. I barely managed a small smile in his direction before my legs carried me toward Allie.

She looked different. Not just because of the dress she was wearing—an emerald green gown that hugged her figure perfectly, heels that added a touch of elegance—but because of something deeper. She looked stronger. Freer. There was a bravery in her now that I hadn't seen before.

And I was drawn to it. To her.

As I approached, she caught my gaze again, her eyes searching mine, and we stopped in front of each other. I still didn't know what to say, didn't know where to begin.

But I didn't want to do this here—not in the middle of a gallery, not in front of all these people.

"I want to talk," I said, my voice still shaky, my heart still pounding. "But not here."

I looked into her eyes, searching for any hint of fear, of hesitation. I needed to know if she was going to run again, if she was going to leave me standing here, just like she had before. But there was none of that in her eyes. Only determination.

She nodded, and without another word, I turned toward the door. We couldn't take our eyes off of each other as we walked through the gallery, the weight of her presence beside me making my chest ache with a mixture of relief and confusion.

I pushed the glass door open, and we stepped out into the busy New York street.

The city buzzed around us, but it felt distant, like we were in a bubble, cut off from everything but each other.