It was seven in the evening when we headed out of the restaurant after a happy meal, and split the drive among the four of us. Yes, four, because the Blonde Bitch left us after the shopping spree.

From what I'd overheard (Okay, maybe eavesdropped), her boyfriend was anxious to see her. I so wished Ian had heard that too. Although, I had no idea why Chloe would let her hang around Ian—and be so touchy—when she knew about her boyfriend.

The atmosphere had been quite chill between me and Ian since I stepped out of the dressing room, and I ended up buying(borrowing) that red gown. I could still recall the sparkle in Ian's eyes when Chloe was shooting praises after praises at me and the gown. Sadly, it didn't last too long. He had broken his eyes away with a pained expression, and ever since then, hadn't taken a proper look at me. I kind of missed it, and kind of felt relieved that his attention was away from me. His words from earlier were still trying to connect invisible dots in my head.

As good as I remember.

What exactly did he remember?

It could've meant a variety of things. I was pretty sure my body mist was strong enough to leave a whiff everywhere I went. Maybe he referred to our last Sunday's interaction. And not...that.

I ended up in Ian's car, as Chloe and Niall headed to the Cole's Villa for—what they assured us was—helping their parents with the party arrangements. As soon as the car door shut and Ian pulled away from the restaurant, I was fidgeting again.

I really needed to stop doing that.

The temptation of stealing a glance at Ian was strong, but not strong enough to overcome the anxiousness spreading throughout me. I grabbed the hem of my skirt and twisted it in between my fingers, staring outside the window at the busy streets of Vancouver. I was not even drunk today, and still my cheeks were warm.

"Everything okay?" My eyes fell shut as his words, two pretty damn simple words, crawled up my neck, and into my ears.

"Yes." I didn't know if he heard that over the sound of the deafening silence, so I turned, just in time to see his jaws clench, and a vein surface the skin of his neck. Something coiled in the depth of my stomach at that sight and I tried my best to push it away.

He was attractive. I knew long before that he was. Just a bit sexier now, however. I willed myself to accept it as a fact, rather than something as a drool-worthy sight. Although I was really close to the latter one.

"Why are you staying in a hotel?" Ian asked, and my brows arched in response. His question caught me off guard, but I recovered quickly.

I leaned back into the seat and fixed my gaze somewhere in the darkness outside the window. How was I supposed to answer that?

The truth.

"I know about your divorce." He said, and turned a corner, into an unfamiliar route. "But why are you in a hotel?" He stole a glance at me, then added, almost reluctantly. "If I may ask."

My teeth nibbled down on the inside of my lips. "I didn't want to—I mean of course, I couldn't live with my ex-husband. So..."

Ian shot me another look, this one lingering a second longer. "Aren't you in a position to demand alimony?"

"I didn't take it." I said with a shrug. That answer came naturally. Truthfully. "Where are we going again?" I eyed the unknown road, and the bright neighborhood aligned on either side of the road.

"Somewhere close by." Ian said, and in another two minutes, pulled over before a decent looking house. One that was similar to the neighboring houses.

It looked like my childhood house, in which I lived for just seven years with my mom, before we were kicked out. It had the same roofed top, grilled windows with sliding doors, and a front door with a latch rather than knob.

Someday, I wanted to live in such a house.

Ian killed the engine, and climbed out, then opened my door.

"Come," he offered me his hand. I wanted to ask him why he brought me here, but my body betrayed my brain and slipped my hand into his, and he took it with a gentleness I didn't know he had.

Ian led us toward the house, over the little flight of stairs and onto the front porch.

He was still holding my heart. Or my hand. Because it felt the same.

The size of his palm could fit both of my wrists together. It was with great effort that I pushed the thought away.

Why would he grab my wrists? Both of them?

He flipped a switch beside the door and the front porch and veranda lit up with a golden glow of lamp hanging above us. The place was so clean, like someone actually lived here. My brows furrowed and from somewhere far away, my lost mind was stumbling its way forward.

"Why are we here, Ian?" I asked, and he turned to face me from where he was standing at the door, bathed in the golden light, looking more gorgeous if that was even possible. He studied my face for a few seconds, the silence stretching between us. But he didn't answer. Instead, reached for my hand.

Didn't ask. Just took my hand in his.

"Come." He said, and unlocked the door with the other hand.

I didn't like that word. Or maybe the context of it that my mind was referring to from a book tagged as Dirty Dictionary.

We stepped into pitch darkness, before Ian flipped a couple more switches, and it was all light. Golden, beige and sandy colors flew around in my vision before my eyes properly adjusted to my surrounding. If from outside I wanted to live in this house, after seeing it from inside I wanted to just pull over a bedsheet and curl on the hardwood floor.

A wide and ridiculously comfy looking couch was on one side of the room, and across it a television covered most of the wall. Above the couch, a few photographs and certificates hung on the wall. There were stuffs and decorations every house needed, to be and look comfortable. But the center of attraction were the huge double door windows, aligned with a U-shaped window seat that could effortlessly fit seven to eight people. But if it was up to me, I would not let a single ass have that seat other than mine. That cushion stacked seat looked like it was made for my ass.

"Do you like it?" Ian's voice drew me back to reality. A harsh reality where this house was not mine. And my ass was not on the window-seat.

An unconscious smile tugged my lips up. "I do. It's beautiful. It feels so much like...like..." I trailed off.

"Home." Ian completed, his voice compelling me to face him, finding his eyes already trained on me.

"Home." I repeated, and almost shrunk away under the intensity of his gaze. In the golden glow of the room, he looked like a candle. No, he looked like the flame. And I was the body. Melting with each passing second, as the heat circled and engulfed me in its arms.

Unable to take the heat, and with much difficulty, I tore my eyes away from him, pushing a breath out of my mouth.

"Who lives here?" I walked toward the nearest side table and traced the edge of the polished wood, expecting to gather dust on my fingers, but it came away as clean as it looked.

"I do." Ian said, and my finger halted.

When I turned around, wide eyed, he grinned at me. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Are you kidding me?"

He shook his head, still looking amused.

"I don't believe you." I said and brought my hand up to cup my mouth, trying to muffle the shock. "Seriously?"

Ian's grin widened as he walked forward and plopped down on the couch. "I swear. It's mine."

I was still standing with my mouth covered with my hand, as I whispered, "Wow."

To be honest, it was more impressive that his apartment which I hardly remembered.

"I bought it while I was in medical school." Ian started, looking lost in thoughts. "It was not so far away from here. And I wanted somewhere away from the city disturbances. This seemed like the perfect place." He patted the place beside him, and I strolled to the couch, falling back on the mattress with a sigh. It was more comfortable than it looked.

After a beat, Ian continued. "I still come here on weekends or whenever my schedule spares me a free day. For some quiet time."

I shook my head in disbelief. "I don't understand why you live high up there in your fancy 3BHK and miss this heaven on earth." I closed my eyes, resting my head back on the neck of the couch. "This is such a dreamy space."

Ian made a sound of approval at the back of his throat. I kept my eyes shut and let the cool of the air cocoon me, cradle me, as a comfortable silence spread around us. If I hadn't come here in his car and known that he was beside me, I would have almost thought I was alone. But I was not. He was there, close beside me. I felt his presence. I heard the steady inhale and exhale of his breath. I sensed him shifting on the couch.

And then, I felt his fingers.

His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear, and just lingered there, fingertip moving back and forth against my skin. My eyes were still closed, reveling in the feeling of his warm fingers against my burning skin, adding to the heat. And when his voice came, I almost didn't hear him.

"If you like it so much, then it's all yours."