The drive.

It turned out that my shoot was with Arman. We were doing a couples shoot for a brand I didn’t recognize, but I really didn’t care because M.J. handled things like that.

Even with his memory gone, Arman was still an awesome model.

“Hey,” I met his eyes, “how do you feel?” I asked under my breath.

I was sitting on a high stool while he stood between my legs, a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m good.” His voice was clipped.

Something was wrong. I remember we had talked last night and nothing seemed out of place. He had even smiled when Rachel literally begged for an autograph and he signed his name on her dress. She had been ecstatic.

When we were done, M.J. tried to hurry me back but I insisted on going home with Arman. “I need to talk to him about some stuff,” I lied.

“About what?”

I shifted from one foot to another but said nothing.

“Merida!” M.J. sighed.

“I’ll be fine. I promise. And I want you to worry less about me. I have Arman and Rachel.” Then I remembered I hadn’t told him about Rachel. “By the way, a friend might be at my place, don’t be surprised when you see her.”

“A friend?” M.J. was surprised.

“From Canada,” I explained.

“I thought you didn’t have friends,” M.J. said.

Well, I rushed into explaining how I met Rachel.

“You don’t know a thing about this girl and now you’re letting her in and out of your apartment?” M.J. looked disappointed.

“I really need a friend. Besides, I knew nothing about you and yet I followed you all the way to New York! Impulse trust works for me.” I beamed. “C'mon.” I pulled at his shirt and swung like a child, “Please.”

“Fine. But if I do not like this Rachel person, then she goes.”

I was already running to Arman. “We can negotiate that.”

Arman was waiting by his car (I really wasn’t comfortable about him driving yet). Maybe it was because I was excited about having my way, but I jumped into a hug with Arman.

He held me tight, sniffing my hair before letting me go.

“You look very handsome today,” I confessed. But then, Arman always looked good in a suit. “Wanna go somewhere?” I asked.

Arman shook his head. “I want to go home.”

Now I knew something was wrong.

“Alright. Let’s go,” I agreed.

Arman raised a brow. “You don’t mind coming to my place?”

“Only if you don’t want me in your place,” I responded uncertainly.

As a response, Arman opened the car door for me.

“Did Bridget get this car for you?” I asked as he started the car. I remembered how I liked the car that crashed, but I wondered which I liked better because this one too was really awesome.

“No, I got it myself. Test drove a few before I picked this one,” Arman explained.

“You have a very nice taste in cars,” I admitted.

“Old me or new me?” Arman asked, meeting my eyes.

“Hmm.” I thought about it. “I really like your old car. But I like this one too.” It was the truth. Unfortunately, I knew I had never told the old Arman that I loved his car.

“Is that why you’re comfortable? Because you’re getting a glimpse of the person I used to be?” Arman asked, frustration etched all over his voice and face.

I reached for his hand. “I don’t understand.”

“I feel like you’re desperate for the old Arman. Will you leave me if I never regain my memory?”

I burst into a fit of laughter. “Arman! I wish you knew what you are talking about.” If it were the old Arman, I wouldn’t be in this car at all. “Besides, we did this yesterday, I’m not doing it again today,” I brushed it off. I felt guilty enough for each lie I told; I wasn’t going to repeat them every day.

To my surprise, he linked his fingers in mine. I didn’t mind.

“You look really pretty in that dress,” Arman commented, his voice thicker, like something was blocking his throat.

The red dress Rachel had picked for me was shorter than I would have preferred, but it did make me feel sexy. “Thank you.” I smiled, still in awe of the sensation of holding his hand.

I remembered something and sat up, facing him. “You posted a picture of me at midnight. You took a picture of me yesterday.”

Arman smiled. “I took lots of pictures of you. I always take pictures of you.”

My smile didn’t falter. “Why?”

“Because you’re beautiful.”

“Like an ice queen?” I teased…

“There’s nothing icy about you at the moment…” Arman muttered, his gaze washing over my body.

Everything about this moment felt like more.

Heat crawled up my face. I looked away to hide it, but Arman would have none of it.

“You should drive carefully,” I muttered, still not looking back at him.

Arman’s house was nothing like I was expecting. It wasn’t an apartment like mine. It was a house! With gardens and all.

“Zoe,” Arman called my name after he parked and killed the engine. “I think we should go somewhere else.”

I paused. “Why? I thought you wanted to go home. I want to see your place too.”

Arman took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the wheel.

“I don't trust myself to keep my hands off you.”

The words landed like a bomb, flooding me with heat and burns.

I opened the car door and stepped out like I didn’t hear him.