Paranoia

Arman’s POV

I’ve had sleepless nights for days now.

I walked around with bloodshot eyes during the day, and sleep eluded me at night. Someone was trying to ruin me. That was my only conclusion.

I tried to think back and remember the other words Bridget had said during that phone call, but everything else seemed blurry except those words: “I won’t let you destroy everything we have worked for.”

My mind kept trying to go back to the memory of the phone call, but those words were all I could remember. I had tried asking Bridget, but the conversation went exactly like I had predicted it would.

“Umm, Bridge?” I had called for her.

“Yes, Zain.” She teased me with the character’s name these days. Fans were loving the name. Earlier last week, she had posted a picture on my I*******m and captioned it “Arman or Zain?” There was a tie. People loved both. My social media manager had proposed the idea of creating an I*******m page for Zain Blade. I really didn’t care.

“Is everything alright?” I asked.

Bridget frowned. “Of course, everything is awesome. I’m so happy. You should know I’m proud of you. I really am. I know how hard you’ve worked to get here. I’m glad we’re a team.” She pulled me into a hug. There—she said the word: “We.”

“You’ll tell me if anything is wrong, right?” I asked, just to be sure.

“Sure. Sure,” she responded, but I felt she had dismissed me already.

Her response seemed off; it felt like she had dodged the question. I expected that, because she wouldn't want me to worry about whatever was wrong. I had to take matters into my own hands.

“What’s with that look?” Jude almost ran into me. “C’mon. It’s time to celebrate. We have to take a group picture. C’mon.” He was excited.

I would have been, too. We were done shooting the movie. I was only relieved. I didn’t think I could shoot more scenes with this feeling.

“I want to go home,” I told him. I couldn’t stand being around a crowd right now.

“You said what?” It was Eloise. “I say no to that. I already told Zoe, too—she can’t go home yet. It’s time for pictures. I want to take a lot of pictures with you guys, because I know it’ll be a while before we can gather together like this again. Where’s Zoe?” she raised her voice to ask.

“I’m here.” Her voice was small and sweet. This wasn’t Brenda Cox. This was Zoe. Earlier today, we had shot a kissing scene, and although everyone had loved it, I had felt nothing. It was not a real kiss; it was so cold. Zoe had stiffened in my arms, her eyes softening only when the camera was close. But now that I saw the real Zoe, I wondered what it would feel like to kiss *this* lady.

She had changed into a short and free grey gown, and she wore cotton sneakers. I guess her feet deserved it after all the heels she had worn for the movie.

We ended up sitting side by side, but now there was too much anger and arrogance between us to share nice words. Not even a “Congratulations, you did well, it was nice working with you.”

I shook my head and brought my mind back to my dilemma. I opened my I*******m account and went to my latest post. I carefully went through every comment; maybe if I found people who wrote hateful comments, I could start from there and find out who it was that wanted to destroy me. The fact that the person had access to Bridget’s phone number told me the person was neither afraid nor hiding.

I didn’t find any. Not even one hate comment. Bridget must have deleted them.

Next, I went through my DMs for people who had responded to my stories. Maybe, just maybe, I could find one hate text and I could start investigating from there. Being left in the dark was suffocating; I couldn't bear to live like this.

I found nothing. Not a single thing that implied hate or even dislike; people in my comments section thought of me as a god. Perfect.

"I should have guessed. Look at you, feeding on people's praises," Zoe murmured beside me, for my ears alone.

I didn't feel like having a fight with her, but any distraction was welcome at this point. "Of course, it fills me well. Can't remember the last time I had a solid meal." I rested my back comfortably on the chair as if I meant the words I spoke. It would have been nice to have someone to talk to, to relieve these burdens, but now I knew Zoe wasn't the one—regardless of the fact that she looked like an angel.

"I'd watch my weight if I were you." Unlike our usual banter, this one had no note of aggression; it was easy to fall into.

"Ahh, good thing you're not me, isn't it?" I raised a brow.

Now she turned fully to face me. "Aren't you too full of yourself?" It was a challenge. Was that her conclusion after all the time we spent together? That I was full of myself and proud?

I brought my elbow to my knee, bringing my face dangerously close to hers. "Why? Should I be full of you? Do you want to be filled with me?" My fingers touched the hem of her skirt. "I'll do it if you ask nicely."

Yes, this wasn't Brenda; this was the real Zoe. Because while Brenda would have shut me down—her eyes would have gone dark and her nostrils would have flared—Zoe gasped.

"How dare you?"

I chuckled, but before I could answer, someone screamed, "Don't move!"

They were taking pictures. Zoe would have moved back, but now she had no choice but to keep her face so close to mine. "Dare me. Say that I cannot kiss you," I pushed.

How I wished she could read between the lines and see how desperate I was to kiss her.