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Paul insists on driving, all my protests fall on deaf ears, in the end, I grudgingly hand over my car keys. He offers to open the door for me but I send him a glare that has his hands raising in surrender. I am not falling for his charms so he can turn around and do the opposite of charming. We have enough ugly memories to last us a lifetime. 

The car is silent as Paul drives out of the hotel, his muscles flex as he steers the wheel and my lips curl into a small smile at how relaxed he looks driving my car. To avoid giving in to the temptation of poking his biceps, I flick through radio channels, settle for a station playing an unfamiliar but soothing tune and look out the window.

Tall, fancy buildings line each side of the road and I start a game of counting them under my breath. It doesn't take long for me to give up and focus, instead, on keeping my thoughts away from the handsome man in the car. A weight settles on my laps, I peel my eyes from the window to stare at the object. It's Paul's hand. My gaze travels from his arm to his face, a corner of his lips twitch but his eyes remain on the road.

Stifling a giggle, my eyes lower to his hand and I imagine placing mine over it. My tiny hand will get swallowed by his, a glance at his right hand reassures me of that. Tracing the lines on his palm with my eyes, I bite the insides of my lips to stop my itchy fingers from enacting my eyes movement. I try to pull his hand off my lap but this man refuses to budge, I take another look at him and he is staring straight ahead.

"Hey," Paul calls out. He wiggles his hand, I glare at that part of him resting on my laps. He whines, "Give me your hand."

"No. Both hands should be on the steering."

My heart almost burst out of my chest when he removes his other hand from the wheel, my eyes round to saucers. I realise, after his hand returns to the steering wheel, the screaming I hear is coming from me not the radio and my mouth clamps shut. It happened in less than a second but that's all the time needed for my hands to reach for the seatbelt which I buckle into place. Paul chuckles, it earns him a slap on the back of his head and the car grows quiet again.

"So... King? You like him?"

His attention is back on the road, I shift in my seat and my hand wraps around the seatbelt, welcoming the feeling of safety that comes with it. "No. I like you."

I shrug when he glances at me, a part of me glad to know he was bothered by the peck I shared with King. His hand is still on my lap, I give in to the urge and start tracing the line that comes to stop between his thumb and index finger. He closes his palm, I sigh and intertwine our fingers as a warm feeling settles in my chest. I still like him.

"You are so confusing," I say and he starts to shake his head. "You give me mixed signals and you have mood swings worse than that of a pregnant woman. It's hard to keep up."

"Wrong. You just don't understand me."

I hum a noncommittal response, no interest in pointing out cases where his mood went from one hundred to zero real quick without reason. His hand drops from my legs, I purse my lips. At least one person understands him; Chi, they will make a great team. I wonder again why they aren't a couple, it would have been easier to move on from this silly infatuation I have for him.

The Mercedes slows to a leisure pace, my mouth parts open and close at the sight of the rows of cars in front of us. I gulp, the windows roll up and the AC comes to life, we might be here awhile. My eyes wander to the handsome man beside me, I tuck my fists between my legs to stop myself from reaching out to caress his beards and smooth, brown skin. I sigh and look out the window, how can one man be this fine?

"Pauline," he breathes out and my gaze returns to his face. His lips. It has been so long we kissed and I let the question of if we will ever kiss again float in my mind. His fingers run through his face, ending up in his goatee and I feel my defences rising. What's bothering him? He sighs. "Everyone calls you Pauline, can I call you Ifunaya?"

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