Chapter 1: Amnesia.

Present Day.

Olivia's POV.

It's dark, it's raining, I'm drunk and I'm driving.

I have a bottle of booze sitting in between my thighs and I'm crying, my heart hurts so bad and my hands are shaking, I clench my fingers around the steeling wheel in order to stop them from shaking but I can still feel them vibrating.

Lose you to love me by Selena Gomez blasts from the speakers in the car and it just makes me feel like screaming.

I grasp the neck of the bottle and I bring it to my lips, chugging and coughing out the painful heat it brews down my throat.

What am I doing? I hate alcohol.

I break out in more tears, yanking the necklace from around my neck, I stare at the beautiful star necklace, my chest squeezes and I throw it somewhere around the car, sobbing.

I shift my eyes back to the road.

Shit.

I'm in the other lane, there's a car coming in front of me, honking.

Panicking, I jerk the car out of the road, I hit into something, tires screech, car flips, glass splatters everywhere and.....

I wake up with a loud gasp, sitting up on my bed and placing my hand over my speeding heartbeat.

Shit, not again.

I fall back on the mattress, wiping the beads of sweat off my forehead and shallowing my hurried breaths. I turn my head to look at the sun peeking through my apartment window.

It was just a dream, I try to convince myself, except, it wasn't just a dream, it was a memory, the very last memory I have about my past.

I lost my memory after that accident.

Brain damage. 

Little pieces or not at all.

Those were the words I picked up from what the doctor said to my parents three years ago.

Some people said that what happened to me was a tragedy but I think otherwise.

That accident was the best thing that ever happened to me. fucked up? I know, but that's how I feel. I mean, wouldn't you wanna forget certain events of your life?

I might not know who I was before but I do know that I was so very different from the person I am today.

I never used to go to parties, never took pictures with random people I met at a concert, never talked back to my parents or dyed my hair all crazy. I'm everything my past self wasn't, I'm a different person, a different story. 

I'm fully open to whatever the world has to offer, my friend Myra says that I'm so social it would be so hard to find my killer if I were to get murdered.

She definitely wasn't social, she didn't even have one friend. We're talking about a girl that went to church every Sunday, every Sunday.

Oh and by she, I mean my past self, I've actually divided myself in two. 

Olivia Conner one and Olivia Conner two.

I'm number two, of course.

Number one is long gone, I doubt if she'll ever come back.

But sometimes, who I was before the accident is all I ever think about, all I ever question about.

It's been almost three years since I lost my memory and something inside me clearly doesn't want me to remember my past, but let's be honest here, judging by that dream, maybe my past is not worth remembering.

I mean, sure, I still ask myself questions like, why was I drinking and driving when my father said that I had never touched a bottle of alcohol in my entire life, infact, I always preached to him about quitting but not only did they find alcohol in my system but they also found molly.

I know what you're thinking, you think I probably got dumped that night or I walked in on a girl riding my boyfriend's dick.

Wrong.

I was told that I was a loner, that I wasn't dating anyone, infact, I went to that party alone but when I went deeper into my own investigation, I found two names, two people that might have known me on a personal or maybe even intimate level.

Ryder and Tristan.

Last names unknown.

A girl from my high school music class said I once kissed a guy called Ryder at some hangout spot but he graduated a couple days before my accident and I was actually close to a guy called Tristan, I even found pictures in my phone of Tristan and myself but our relationship looked platonic, I asked the same girl if he graduated too but she said he was in our school year and that he transferred schools right after my accident.

Bunch of dead ends.

From that point forward, I concluded that I was just a teenager who went to a party, tried alcohol for the first time and then I convinced myself that I could drive home under the influence, ignore the fucking dream.

Problem solved.

My parents wanted me to study law at Columbia but I didn't want to, I bet she definitely wanted to but I didn't. I wanted to study art at Kashville university, it's a school so far away from home I'd be excused for not making it to Thanksgiving. 

She had applied there back in high school, it was rather different from all the other high educational schools she had applied to, maybe that's why I decided to go here, because it was the last school she would have gone to.

I've been at Kashville for almost two years now and it's been the best life experience of my life, I even got an apartment three months ago because dorm rooms are tiny and I like my freedom when it's truly mine.

I know I don't remember half of my high school experience but college is somehow better than high school.

"Hey!" Myra's loud voice startles me as she enters my bedroom like it's a bathroom, she carelessly throws her bag beside the door and kicks off her shoes.

I glance at the clock on my nightstand, 10AM.

Well, shit.

"Don't you knock? I could have been hooking up with my super hot ethics professor right now." I joke in a sleepy tone, she laughs, rushing to my bed and jumping on it like a child.

She drops beside me, staring at me with the biggest smile on her face, it's one of those smiles that say, 'i have something big to share with you' but she clearly wants me to ask her first.

"You know I'm a bad guesser, Myra, just tell me." I say lazily.

"Okay, so, remember when you told me to help you look for a roommate cause this place is too big for you?" She asks.

"Yeah? Is it you? Did you change your mind?" I ask eagerly, gaping at her cute baby face.

"No, i told you, my parents would kill me if I ever moved out of the dorms." She sighs, sitting up with a pout on her face, I frown. "Anyway, I found someone." She pulls my arm, forcing me to sit up.

"As long as she's not a bitch, I'm cool with it." I say, leaning my back against the headboard.

"She's not a bitch." She assures me, "And she's British." She adds.

"Okay, cool?" I narrow my gaze at her.

"But I also kinda want you to meet someone." She tells me, biting her lip.

Here we go again, she's always introducing me to these stupid horny college guys that I'm not interested in dating.

"Dude.." I start.

"Hear me out." She raises a silencing finger, "He just moved into the apartment across from yours, he barely utters three words to people, he's a business major but from what I hear, he gets called by big magazines like Vogue to do photoshoots cause he rocks at photography which means that he'll be busy and probably won't be clingy, and I'm not asking you to date him, just be friends with him." She says the words as fast as she can.

"He really gets a phone call from Vogue magazine?" I ask in disbelief.

"That's what you're taking from everything I just said?" She stares at me with lazy eyes.

"I'm sorry, it's just, Vogue?" I mutter underneath my tone.

"So, deal or no deal?" She asks, I chew the inside of my lip, contemplating.

I mean this offer doesn't sound bad, I can go from art major to Victoria secret model in no time.

As if.

"I don't know, let me think about it." I sigh.

"Oh." Her eyes widen a little.

She does that everytime she fucks up.

"What?" I study her face.

"I kind of told him to come over and say hello." She bites her teeth, my brows shoot up. "Oops?" She slightly lifts her shoulders.

"Myra!" I shriek.

"I thought it wouldn't be a big deal." She defends. "He's in the living room." She informs me.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you." I throw the covers off my body, she instinctively jumps off my bed and runs to the door.

"I'll tell him to come back another time!" She whisper shouts while holding my door open.

"No, that would be weird, I'll come out and greet him like a nice neighbor is supposed to but that's it!" I point out. 

"Deal, Love you!" She shuts my door, leaving me to it.

I sigh, looking around the mess around me.

I'm wearing a sports bra and panties so clearly, I have to change.

I grab a pair of cut off shorts from the floor and slip them on.

I have to clean my room one of these days.

After finding a random dirty t-shirt, I march out of my room while putting it on. I hear Myra talking about her assignments, I walk into the living room and I halt, staring at the so called Vogue photographer.

She forgot to mention he was hot.

My eyes drink him in, he's a tall, lean guy with a cool buzz cut, he has brown eyes, a pretty boy face, he's wearing a long sleeved white t-shirt, black cargo pants and Vans shoes.

Typical college dude, I'd say.

He's looking around the apartment as Myra rambles random words to him.

I interlock my fingers behind me, staring at him.

I'm doing that thing again, that thing where I'm trying to remember a face that looks familiar but I just can't remember.

His wondering eyes find mine and our gaze lock, his brows furrow and his face turns curious.

Having his eyes on me ignites an unwelcomed fire in my body and in my chest, I don't even know why, he's literally a stranger.

I move my legs, going closer to where they're standing.

He's staring at me. 

I'm staring at him.

Myra is staring at the both of us.

No one's saying anything.

Myra awkwardly clears her throat which captures my attention, she cocks her head in his direction, signaling me to greet him.

Oh, right.

"Olivia," I stretch out my hand for a hand shake.

His expression changes from curious to something I can't seem to put my finger on. He looks at me like I'm not real, like he... knows me.

Does he?

No, stop it.

"Shake her hand, dick head." Myra says through gritted teeth, nudging his shoulder.

He looks down at my waiting hand, taking a deep breath, his chest rises then falls and I see him swallow, he tightens his jaw before finally shaking my hand. He doesn't look up, he's just looking at our shaking hands.

His grip is warm and strong and for some reason, the hairs on my arm rise all the way to the back of my neck and I feel literal chills just by this contact alone.

My eyes drop to our hands, I stare at the ink on his fingers, on the back of his hand, on his wrist and disappearing underneath his shirt. I can't help but wonder how he looks without a shirt and I almost show him my tattoo but it's location makes me fight against the idea.

Don't judge me, I'm an artist, things like this excite me.

"Nice tattoos." I break the strong tension again.

He doesn't respond, his mood seemed to have shifted. He looks so confused and speechless.

I'd react like this if I ever saw a ghost, except, I'd actually run.

"Olivia who?" I almost didn't hear him due to the fact that his voice came out as low as the sound of his breathing.

I look at Myra questionably because I'm officially freaked out by this guy, she just shrugs.

"Conner, Olivia Conner." I tell him, he finally let's go of my hand.

"Okay, great, she's Olivia Conner and you're Jace Rodriguez. Now that everyone knows everyone, can we talk about how exciting it is that two of my closest friends are neighbors now?" She looks back and forth between us but my mind is stuck on the name.

Jace Rodriguez.

Nope, it doesn't ring a bell.

"I'm gonna go." He says, his jaw flexing as he looks at Myra, I stare at the structure of his side profile, so beautiful and muscular, I can literally make it into a portrait and sell it for a million dollars.

"What do you mean? You just got here?" She grits out, glaring at him.

"I have a shoot." He says then turns to leave.

"It was nice meeting you, Jace." I speak, my voice brings him to a halt, he looks at me over his shoulder, I don't know if it's just in my head but his face turns into a series of unexplainable emotions and he tries so hard to cover it up with that tight jaw.

He nods, looking me down.

"You too." He whispers before walking out of my apartment.

"That was so fucking weird, he was so weird." I point at the door.

"That's Jace for you." Myra sighs, walking to the couch.

"You're telling me he's always like that?" I follow her.

"Yep." She throws herself on the couch.

"Why?" I sit next to her, staring at her face.

"He has issues, I guess." She shrugs.

"What kind of issues?" I put emphasis on the word.

"He doesn't socialize, he chooses the people he talks to and he has major anger issues," She explains. "but there was a time when he used to be fun, I borrowed his laptop once and there were all these pictures and videos of him when he was in high school and I almost didn't recognize him laughing out loud and making jokes like that." She explains, smiling at the entire time.

"Weird as shit." I utter, glancing at the door he walked out of seconds ago.

"He's also a good listener, Olive, that's what makes him the perfect boy who is a friend," She ruffles my bleached hair.

With the way he looked at me?

I think not.