The wedding was three months away, only three months away.

Jess had gone ahead and done everything without consulting me. She knew I would have wanted a later date, a cheaper location and invited fewer people. But it was also because she was insecure, afraid that I would change my mind about all of this, about her. To some extent, I understood her, but to another extent, I couldn't help but feel like she was being inconsiderate, considering the fact that the wedding would be our day, not just hers. And I had told her several times that I would rather have the wedding next year, but once again, she didn't listen to me, and that in itself was making me reconsider everything. But I couldn't just go backwards, not when everything had already been paid for.

And maybe things would change once all of this was official.

****

Jess had scheduled tasks to do together for the day in preparation for the wedding, but she had completely forgotten about an event she promised to attend at work and couldn't cancel last minute so I had to handle all of the tasks for the wedding.

"Let me come," Zara said after I told her where I was going. "I'll accompany you, it's not like I've got anything better to do." Before I could respond she quickly said, "give me five minutes," and ran upstairs to get ready.

She took less than five minutes, having changed into tights and a t-shirt and put on a beanie so she didn't have to tame her kinky hair.

"Let's go!" She announced as she skipped past me and out of the house, and I couldn't help the tug of my lips.

The first thing on the list was to collect the rings. Jess and I had already browsed through and chosen our rings already, but she wanted to add custom designs to them both so we had to wait an extra month before going to collect them.

Zara and I entered the jeweller shop, and she didn't even try to hide her awe. Her lips parted slightly and her breath caught at the sight of all of the jewellery. She did a full 360-degree turn as she took in her surroundings. I had to admit though, I was quite awestruck when I first entered the shop, what with all of the glass cabinets housing expensive jewellery, the way the light was tinted to a golden colour to bring out all of the jewels, the large mirrors integrated into the walls. Even the chandelier in the centre of the store looked like it cost a fortune. But Zara's reaction to the shop was over-the-top and amusing.

"Come on," I told Zara, placing my hands on her shoulders to stop her from spinning. I guided her to the counter, walking behind her, and she ogled the jewellery through the glass when an employee approached us.

"Hi, how may I help you?" The employee asked. I told her about the rings and gave her my name. "Give me a few minutes please, Mr Fraid," she said before going to the back.

I leaned forward to look at Zara who was still staring at the jewellery.

"You know," she began, sensing my attention on her, "I'm not even a fan of expensive jewellery. I don't like the flashy, large gemmed kind of jewellery, I like the simple basic kind. Like that one," she pointed to a thin plain silver ring with tiny gems. "And that one," she pointed to a thin plain gold ring. "And that one's cute too," she said, pointing to a silver adjustable leaf ring.

I looked away from the rings and at Zara, at the way she was admiring the simple rings, and I couldn't help but notice how completely different she was from Jess. Zara had left the house without makeup again, but Jess would never do that. Zara wasn't interested in the most expensive items, but Jess was. I didn't even know why I was comparing them, but I was.

Zara was the weirdest yet most intriguing person I knew. I always found myself learning new things about her, and admiring things about her. Like the way she didn't care what people thought of her so long as she felt comfortable. The way she resorted to telling jokes to make someone feel better. The way she got a burst of satisfaction whenever she made someone laugh.

"Mr Fraid," the employee called my name, grabbing my attention. She extended a small brown paper bag in my direction. "Your rings are all ready. I checked and saw that you're all paid up, so here you go."

"Thank you," I said and turned to leave. I reached the door but saw that Zara was still admiring the rings, so I turned back and took her hand like it was the most natural thing ever before walking out of the shop with her.

As soon as we entered the car, Zara took the bag from me and asked if she could open it. She didn't wait for my response before opening it and taking out the two leather boxes. She flipped open one, then the other.

"Wow," she breathed, then carefully took out one of the rings, Jess' ring, and inspected it. It was gold with a large bejewelled centre and an engraving that read J.F. "Maybe I should get married."

I snorted at that and Zara glanced at me with a grin before putting the ring back in its box.

Next on the list was the cake tasting. I plotted the bakery into google maps only to find that it was on the other side of town.

"An hour's drive," Zara said as she leaned toward me to look at the information on my phone. "Shall we buy some food for the road?"

****

I had sent Zara into the store to get the food while I plotted our journey, but I soon found out that her idea of food was chocolate, because that was all she came out of the store with, a smile pasted across her lips as she admired the chocolates in the plastic bag. She was like a little kid as she skipped to the car, and I imagined that it would have been a breeze for a kidnapper to convince her to jump into their car. All they needed was chocolate.

I laughed at the thought.

"I thought you were getting real food?" I asked once she entered the car.

"I planned to," she told me, "but then I heard whispers at the other end of the store. Zara, they said, buy us. I followed the voices, it was like I was in a trance, Elliot, I swear."

"A trance?" I coughed out, laughing.

"It was too tempting, and it was so hard to resist," she explained. "They caught me at a time of weakness so I gave in. My mind was aware of what was going on, but my body was already controlled by the force."

I howled then, leaning my head against the steering wheel as I laughed. My stomach started to hurt from how long I was laughing, and I leaned my head back to catch my breath, clutching my stomach. It made no sense how easily Zara could make me laugh. No one could make me laugh the way she made me laugh, to the point where my lungs were desperate for air.

"How do you come up with these things?" I breathed, looking at Zara to see her smiling as wide as she had been when looking at the chocolates.

"You've got a funny laugh," she said instead of answering my question. "It's hearty and cute like a kid, but at the same time you kinda sound like... like a dying dog."

"A dying dog?"

"Or a dying seal."

"Mm, and how do you know what a dying seal sounds like?" I asked, clenching my jaw to stop myself from laughing.

"Because I've heard you laugh," she shrugged casually before suddenly breaking out into peals of laughter of her own. And if I was honest, she sounded a lot like a dying seal to me, and it was that thought that made me erupt into laughter again.

Once we both finally managed to catch our breaths, we exhaled with an "ah," at the same time and broke out into laughter again. By the time we managed to stop again, both of our eyes were glassy and we were breathing hard as we got oxygen into our lungs again.

I had never laughed that hard—to the point where I got tears in my eyes—in ages.

"It would have been great if one could get abs from laughing so hard," Zara exhaled. "I mean, my stomach hurts, so it should be doing something."

"Stop, Zara. Please stop talking," I begged, leaning my head against the steering wheel. "Let me at least catch my breath first."

Zara chuckled then, but said, "I think I've killed enough calories from all that laughing, so now's a great time for chocolate, no?"

"Just don't complain when you get a stomachache," I glanced at her as she opened the plastic bag and took some chocolate.

She snickered, "stomachache from chocolate? Me? Never."

I shook my head but I felt my lips curve into a grin. I finally started the car and hit the road, following the GPS to the cake-tasting place. Beside me, Zara opened her window and stuck her hand outside, frequently taking chocolates from the plastic but keeping her attention outside. I caught myself glancing at her often, at the way she moved her hand in a wavy motion through the wind, the way she seemed to pay close attention to her surroundings, and the way she seemed so calm and carefree.

Her lap was covered with empty wrappings of chocolate, and I couldn't help but smile at that, the fact that it was little things like chocolate that made her excited.

I felt an unexpected pang in my chest at that, feeling bothered all of a sudden. Zara knew that she had lost three friends, but she didn't know that those friends were her family, and I knew that once she got her memory back, her carefree and humorous attitude would take a turn for the worse. That chocolate wouldn't be able to cure her grief. And I didn't know how she was going to be able to heal from the pain that would follow from getting her memory back.

They had all been inseparable at the beach the weekend we met, but Zara wasn't only going to remember those moments, she would remember every moment and every memory and I found myself hurting at the thought of her hurting. The thought of her mourning.

Feeling my eyes on her, Zara looked at me and I found myself looking away. I saw her scrunch her brows from the corner of my eye and I glanced at her again.

"What?" She asked.

"Nothing."

"Why were you looking at me?" She questioned. "Do you want me to pull my hand back in the car or something?"

"No."

"Did I finish the chocolates before you could have any?" She bit her bottom lip and I caught myself staring for a second too long.

"No," I focused my attention on the road again.

"Do I have chocolate on my face?"

I glanced at her to deny that statement, but let out a soft chuckle when I noticed a smudge of chocolate on the corner of her lips. Without thinking, I reached my hand out to wipe it but then stopped myself, gripping the steering wheel with both hands.

"There should be serviettes in the compartment," I told her instead.

She opened the compartment and took out a serviette before wiping her lips. "How much longer?"

"Half an hour."

"The cakes better be worth it."

"Knowing Jess, they probably are," I told her as she reclined her seat. "You sleeping?"

"Nope," she undid her seatbelt. "I just need to stretch."

And with that, she raised her hands and stuck out her legs as far as they could go, her bones clicking in the process. I sucked in a breath and looked back at the road, refusing to let my eyes shift in her direction. The action was normal enough, Harley stretched all the time, but I didn't understand why Zara's stretching was as distracting as it was.

She put her seatbelt back on and lifted her seat.

"Better?" I asked, then cleared my throat from the sudden hoarseness in my voice.

She only nodded in response. "Hey, what's your favourite cake flavour?"

"Probably vanilla."

She looked at me, then leaned forward with her eyes narrowed to study me, "are you serious?"

"Yeah, why?"

"What is wrong with you?" She asked, feigning genuine concern. "Is there something wrong with your taste buds?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Vanilla is the basicest flavour out there."

"I don't think basicest is a word," I glanced at her, amused.

"It is in my dictionary."

"I'm sure there are a lot of non-words in that dictionary of yours."

"Unique words are what I call them," she corrected me. "My dictionary has the uniquest words out there."

I chuckled at that. "I can tell."

"Now, about your weird taste buds," she went on. "How is vanilla your favourite?"

"It just is."

"What about chocolate?" She questioned. "Or strawberry, or even lemon for flavours' sake."

I laughed this time, "for flavours' sake?"

"Yes, for flavours' sake!" She exclaimed. "Do you really prefer vanilla, the plainest flavour out there?"

"Yes," I told her.

She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "If you pick a vanilla cake, I'm not coming to your wedding."

"Vanilla it is then."

"Hey!" She swatted my arm, and I only laughed. "You aren't funny," she said, crossing her hands over her chest, and I glanced over at her to see her grinning despite herself.

****

I wasn't surprised to see that the bakery Jess had chosen looked like it cost fortunes to build.

The building itself was unnecessarily large to be just a bakery. It had floor-to-ceiling windows and thick large pillars to support the high roof. We walked through the automatic sliding doors and found ourselves in a massive foyer with several professional images of cakes posted on the walls, giving it a colourful aspect.

"Hi!" Chirped the lady at the desk. "How may I help you today?"

"We're here for cake tasting," I told her.

"Great! Did you make a reservation?" She asked. "Please may I have your name?"

"Um, Jess Green made the reservation."

"Jess Green," the lady echoed as she typed into her laptop. "Ah, Jess and Elliot, yes?"

"Yes."

She pressed a button and within seconds another employee appeared. "Please follow me," she said and led us down the corridor.

In the corridor, there were several passages that led to different cake flavour sections. The various doors were labelled Chocolate, Vanilla, Red Velvet, and even Peanut Butter. She led us into the door labelled Vanilla first, and both the sight and the scent overwhelmed me. Zara shot me a pointed look before we entered the room, and I only smiled back at her.

The room was small with a long table in the centre and various cakes in a glass display that ran across the length of the walls. The displays were lit in different colours creating a colourful aesthetic, and making the cakes look all the more appealing.

"Huh," Zara said softly. "Who knew vanilla could look and smell so good?"

"See, what'd I tell you?"

She narrowed her eyes at me, "looks can be deceiving. Who's to say it tastes good?"

"I can assure you, they all taste good," the employee turned and faced us, and I could have burst out laughing again at the embarrassed expression that passed across Zara's face.

"Oh...I..." Zara stuttered. "I'm sure they do. Yep. Probably so delicious. Yum."

The employee smiled softly and informed us that we—and by 'we' it meant Jess— had reserved to taste three flavours, Vanilla, Chocolate and Strawberry.

"For each flavour," the employee continued, "there are five different cake slices for you to taste. You pick your favourite slice of each flavour and then you will receive a mini cake of each of your favourites among the three flavours before choosing your final favourite flavour. How does that sound?" She asked.

"Great," I told her.

"Obesity, here we come," Zara whispered enthusiastically beside me, making me snort.

Before leaving, the lady went on to tell us that once we had tasted the five slices and chosen our favourite, we were to press the button against the wall to summon her so she could take us to the next room.

Once she was gone, I glanced at Zara. "This is cake tasting, you don't have to finish all of the slices."

"That's the problem," she told me. "I intend to."

And with that, she grabbed a fork and tasted the first slice of vanilla cake.

She groaned, "Damn, this is actually really good."

"See? There's nothing wrong with vanilla."

She took a taste of the second slice and leaned against the table, as if the taste was too much for her, "heck, how can someone possibly choose a favourite out of these."

I grabbed a fork of my own and began tasting with Zara, and each taste was a burst of colour and flavours in my mouth. All five cakes were vanilla, but they didn't taste the same, each cake slice had a different texture and sweetness that made it hard to choose one.

After finishing all five slices, Zara and I painstakingly chose a favourite. The Vanilla Blast.

"The name isn't great," Zara said. "But the taste is..." failing to come up with an adjective to describe the cake, she settled on a groan followed by a little dance that made a smile break out on my face.

We pressed the button and were led to the room with the strawberry cakes. The room was all pink and colourful and each cake slice was to die for. I had never been a fan of strawberry cakes, but these cakes were on a whole other level of tasty. I could bet that even the peanut butter cakes would taste just as divine. After finishing all five slices again, Zara and I chose the Heavenly Strawberry cake as our favourite.

"This is one place where you learn not to judge a cake by its name," she remarked. "Because all these names are awful, but the cakes are..." she settled on a groan and a little dance again.

We pressed the button again and were led to the chocolate room. It was darker, but the green and blue hues brought out an exotic ambience.

Zara took in a deep breath through her nose and exhaled in satisfaction, "this is where I belong."

"Your favourite flavour is chocolate," I said, not a question. There was no surprise there.

Zara went to the first slice, picked up a fork and took a large piece, almost half the slice, and brought it to her lips. As soon as the cake entered her mouth she dramatically collapsed to the ground and leaned against the table.

"This," she breathed, "this is heaven on earth." She leapt up and tasted another slice only to collapse again. "Oh, chocolate cake, where have you been all my life?"

I chuckled, "quit being dramatic."

"My whole life has been a lie," she cried as she tasted the third slice. "I've been eating false chocolate cake all my life not knowing that this," she sniffled to add to her dramatics, "this was where the real thing was."

She tasted the fourth slice then the fifth.

"You shouldn't taste them in quick succession like that," I told her. "You'll just mix the flavours and it'll be hard to choose one."

"How about we just choose all of them?"

"You really are a chocolate addict," I decided, and she only smiled at me.

I had to admit though, choosing a favourite out of the chocolate slices was the hardest. Each slice melted in your mouth, making you want to have more and more. Zara even went as far as to lick one of the plates clean. Eventually, we managed to come to an agreement and chose the Death by Chocolate cake.

We pressed the button once more and the employee appeared. We told her our favourite then she led us to the foyer, and we only waited a few minutes before she came with three mini cakes on a platter, one vanilla, one strawberry and one chocolate. She placed it on the table in the centre of the foyer and had us taste them again.

"I thought I would be sick of cake by now," Zara said through a mouthful of chocolate cake. "But I guess not." She moved from the vanilla to the strawberry cake. "I think maybe they put some drug in the cake to get us wanting more, don't you think?"

"I doubt," I said with a grin.

She moved onto the chocolate cake and took a forkful then paused. "Oh my cakes," she said then hurriedly chewed and swallowed. "What if we—"

A fit of coughs cut her off.

"This is what happens when you eat too fast," I told her as I patted her back. "You good?"

She coughed one last time, cleared her throat then said, "what if you combine all three flavours?"

"All three?"

"Have a three-decker cake, or a six-decker cake, and combine the flavours!" She said excitedly like it was the best idea she had ever come up with. Without even waiting for my response, she went on and asked the employee if that was allowed.

"Of course," she told me. "It would cost you extra, but we can do that for you."

"It'll cost extra?" Zara's face fell then looked at me. "Guess we can't mix then."

"Why not?" I found myself asking.

"This place probably already costs hundreds," she told me. "I know you don't like spending lots of money so—"

"It's fine," I cut her off, surprising her as well as myself.

"Are you sure?" She asked unsurely. "This is your wedding cake, after all, it doesn't matter what I want."

But it does, the thought popped into my head out of nowhere, and even though I would have settled with the vanilla on its own, I found myself saying to the employee, "mix all three, stack the flavours."

"Mixing will add an extra $300, is that okay?" The employee asked.

"$300?!" Zara exclaimed.

"What would that make the total?" I asked

"Since you ordered a 9-decker cake, it would bring the total to $1500." I covered Zara's mouth before she could exclaim again and the employee continued, "but you had paid a total of $2000, so must I make the cake a 12-decker cake to bring it up to $2000, or would you like me to send $500 back?"

Why was I not surprised, of course, Jess would pay more than what was necessary. "Yes, please send the $500 back."

The employee nodded, "I will make sure to get that done and will stay in touch to update you on your cake." I nodded in response then she looked at Zara, "congratulations on your wedding, and thank you for choosing our bakery."

"My wedding?" Zara asked, but before she could say anything else I took her hand and led her out of the shop. "Did she think we were a couple?"

I looked at her and grinned before reaching out my hand and wiping the crumbs from her mouth, "I guess so."

It was only when I glanced up from Zara's mouth and into her eyes that I realised what I was doing. I paused with my thumb against her lips. "Sorry," I mumbled, dropping my hand. "You just had..." I cleared my throat of the sudden hoarseness. "You had some crumbs"

"This might be weird but I just have to say," Zara began, not at all bothered that I had just wiped crumbs from her mouth. "If we weren't cousins, I might have crushed on you."

Something in my chest staggered and stumbled.

"But we are," Zara said. "It would have been great if I got some of your genes. Nothing major, maybe your eyelashes? Because you've got such long, flawless eyelashes." She studied my face for a moment longer. "I like your nose, it's slender. And your eyebrows are thick. And your skin is so clear, do you use any products?" She asked, but before I could answer, she said, "And you've got nice, full lips, but I do too so that's fine."

I froze then and swallowed. Zara's eyes were still flicking across the features on my face and, despite myself, I found myself studying her features. It was her almond-shaped, chestnut-brown eyes that I liked the most.

"I give up on trying to look for blemishes on your face," she suddenly said before leaning forward and grabbing the car keys from my back pocket, making me freeze still. "Come on, let's get back home." She swung the keys on her finger and skipped to the car, unaware of the effect she had just had on me.

I could only look at her as my brain worked.

Not even Jess could make my heart stagger and stumble, and yet Zara had done so unknowingly and effortlessly.

And I didn't understand why.