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?"

The question comes as a surprise, I burst out laughing and I don't stop until tears line my eyes. Is that why he was so nervous? I spare him a glance, the frown on his face has me giggling. If he always acts this way with me, life will be easier for both of us.

"Or Ify, if you don't mind." I nod. A smile plays on my lips, I don't mind one bit. If Chi already doesn't call him by his Igbo name, I would have opted for that option. "I like it."

Only two people call me by my Igbo name, my mother and Mr Adams who sometimes slips into calling me Pauline. My siblings, God help me with those mini miscreants I will give anything for their happiness. They will call me everything under the sun but the right pronunciation of my Igbo name and they will do it with the biggest smiles.

A sad smile flits to my lips as a memory of Awele chasing Nnabuike who has her old teddy bear in his hand pops up in my mind. Images race through my head, the fights and shouts from seeing Awele in my clothes without my permission. The sudden change in Nnabuike's voice and height when puberty hit him. I miss them. I miss home.

They are both grown and in the university but for the life of me, I can't picture them as the young, mature adults they claim to be. Those two will forever look tiny and mischievous to me. I sigh again and smile in fond memory, my fingers toying with my pendant. I don't know if they are still close but I hope that is the case. The pair are quick to start a fight with each other but quicker to jump in each other defence.

"Ify. Ifunaya," Paul mutters as if testing the name and I smile shyly, unable to meet his gaze. "What are you thinking about?"

"My younger ones. Are you the only child?" He shakes his head. I nod, that's one more thing we have in common except for our skin. "How many siblings do you have?"

"Just one."

Growing up in a loud home with annoying siblings and cousins who constantly visited, I don't want to imagine how boring it must have been to have only one playmate.

"I have two," I volunteer and he nods.

The car in front of us moves, Paul starts the engine and covers the small distance. In a way, I am glad for the traffic, being here with him no longer feels like a bad idea. We are making progress, however small.

Silence takes over again, I reach for the radio but Paul stops me by taking my left hand and making circles on my wrist. "Let's talk." I have a hard time forming a coherent sentence after his solemn request so I settle for a nod and small smile. "I was jealous."

Jealous? My nose scrunches and my hand tightens on the seatbelt. This is news. "Of who?" I frown, the peck meant nothing, it was more or less a form of greeting. "Why?"

"You refused to kiss me." He huffs. "Yet you were all over him." I didn't kiss King, it was only a peck. I stifle a groan, a kiss to the cheek doesn't count as a real kiss. His voice goes lower when he adds, "Someone you met last night and you won't kiss me, it's unfair." He pouts. "I want my own kiss."

Oh. He's referring to Teddy. A smile makes its way to my lips, I find his outburst cute. "I don't know who or what you are talking about," I reply as he starts cracking my knuckles. "I was on my own, dancing."

The car behind us honks, a look at the front shows the traffic has eased. Paul is getting ready to start the car when a Range Rover from behind jumps into the space in front of us. I chuckle, Paul honks, the perpetrator honks back at us and we start laughing.

One of his hands is on the steering when he speaks again, "I'm talking about the guy from yesterday. The one you almost kissed."

I let out a mirthless laugh, so foolish of me to think he will forget about that. Nothing ever passes this human being by. "Will you add that to the list of reasons you can't date me? Or start holding it against me?" I cross my arms. "You are actually quite good at it."

"Stop it."

The air grows thick with tension, I clear my throat. Maybe that was too much. I try to reach for the radio again but one look from Paul stops my fingers halfway. My eyes find the dashboard, I fixate my gaze on it like there is a real object of interest there. If I stay quiet long enough, we can pretend I never said anything and go back to joking.

Seconds pass, the awkwardness increases. Rubbing my hands on my knees, I say, "I don't remember anything from yesterday."

Squeezing my lips, my gaze drops to my legs when my stomach growls, reminding me that I am yet to eat. I turn to Paul, it's hard to tell if he heard the noise from the look on his face and my shoulder relaxes when he doesn't mention it.

"What do you remember?" he asks.

My hand wraps around the lower part of my belly, Paul's eyes follow the movement but he keeps his thoughts to himself.

"Going to the club with Chi," I say, "taking a few shots, seeing you and waking up."

"Only?" The incredulity in his voice almost has me confessing the truth. I nod and his lips pull into a grim line. "That means you don't remember my promotion?" I tilt my head, a headache already brewing from trying so hard to remember this particular conversation. "You promised me a raise and a promotion. Does the offer still stand?"

Now, that's a lie, I will never make such a promise but his facial expression makes it hard for me to know if he's being honest.

"I never said anything like that. Yes, we, talked," I pause and wince at the memory of my drunken confession. "But nothing about work or a raise. You are lying, stop it."

He chuckles. "So you do remember?"

"Well," I drag the word out. "It depends on what you are asking, I have a selective memory." He arches an eyebrow and I burst out laughing, I am officially the worst liar. "But does it matter if I remember or not?"

The traffic eases up, our car glides down the road with graceful speed. "No. It doesn't." He takes a turn I am unfamiliar with, before I can call him out on it, he volunteers an answer, "I am taking you out to eat."

He glances at me as if giving me a chance to change my mind and I offer him a toothless smile, still in surprise at the turn of events. I start tapping my feet to the car floor, we are going on our second date. Excitement turns to nervousness, I rub my hands against my knees and spare Paul a glance. I am happy with his suggestion but his unusually calm attitude keeps me from showing it.

"If you don't want us to go out-"

"I want." There is no reason for me to refuse the idea of another date. "I want us to go." Releasing my breath, I say, "I'm hungry."

"Okay. Let's fill up that your flat stomach."

On instinct, my hands go over my stomach and I hiss. "Flat stomach that's not as flat as your own, is that one flat stomach?"

Paul erupts in laughter, his shoulders shake and I lean until my head is resting against the window, watching with a smile as he lets the laughter take over him. There is a slight movement in my belly, probably the hunger, I sigh, I love hearing him laugh.

His laughter quiets down, the comfortable silence is our only companion as he makes a turn into the street housing Chicken Republic. My eyes light up, today might just be one of the best days I have had in weeks.

"Pizza or Shawarma?"

It takes a few seconds for me to realise the question is directed at me, I pout and raise my hands to the car ceiling. I don't need to think too much when food is involved.

"Shawarma with double sausage," I reply. His chuckle greets my response, I shrug, that's the only true way to eat it. "I don't care if it's chicken or beef shawarma but the double sausage with big coke is a must. What about you, which one do you like?"

"Pizza."

My face scrunches at the mention of Pizza, I shake my head slowly as if he is making a big mistake. Maybe he is. Choosing Pizza over shawarma is a punishable crime.

"Pizza is not even sweet. It tastes like bread and sachet tomato," I mumble under my breath, hoping he doesn't hear but he does.

Paul chuckles and I pout, it will be hard to change my mind on this. My face contorts at a faint memory from the last time I ate Pizza. Never again with those round bread that comes in square boxes and eaten in triangular slices. Who thought of that?

"What about pets, cats or dogs?"

His response is delayed, his answer doesn't come until he parks in front of the building.

"None, I don't like animals." I frown and shake my head, cats win this one for me. They are too scratchy but make up for it with their cuteness overload. "You?" 

The purring sound I make is followed by a meow. Paul looks momentarily startled, I giggle and he starts laughing. I sigh in content when he smiles, we will be alright.

He unlocks his door, I wait for him to do the same for mine and I don't step out until he comes over to the passenger side to open for me. I take the hand he offers me, a shy smile takes over my lips when he collects my bag. Gentleman Paul is back and I am loving every moment of it. His hand comes to rest on the small of my back, my body goes rigid when his breath fans my ear.

We stand there for a while, when he pulls back to stare into my eyes, I expect him to give me a forehead kiss. "Clean slate?"