Chapter 13
B y the time we head outside, the sun has emerged into the lake…, and we’re left with the darkened hues of the sky to guide us. The moon is barely present, showing itself as a slither of a crescent.
Hina walks ahead, already unlocking the car and taking the seat in the back. Everyone else is chattering, making small conversation while crew members check the cameras they’ve set up near the rear-view mirror.
“Hands up if you don’t have your driver’s licence yet,” one of the men say into the megaphone. No one raises their hand except me.
They shake their heads.
“You haven’t gotten your G2 license?” Rhys catches up to my steps, nudging his arm against mine.
It’s not my fault I had older siblings that took me everywhere. When it came for me to learn, it never happened. There’s been no reason for me to drive. Plus, Canada makes public transport more affordable than owning a car. A win if you ask me.
“It’s never been a priority.” Changing the subject because I don’t want to talk about this anymore, “Are you excited to see the city?”
Despite the house being on top of a mountain, it’s modern with three garages and two cars.
A vast difference because skimming over the rugged road, and the overgrown grass, you can see the bright lights of the city illuminating the night sky.
There’s a hint, a shallow wave of music slipping towards us, and there’s a lake beneath the Chapel Bridge pulsating with each new wave of wind.
But the view from up here is nothing compared to what it’ll be done there.
I know it. Switzerland exists as a portal to another world, I’m sure of it.
The second I landed, my insides swished and swooshed with each step.
And Lucerne? It doesn’t fit in any category, but the one Fantasy novels are written in.
“I’ve actually been here once or twice, my parents are from Czechia and every holiday, they took us around. Switzerland was a common family vacation spot.”
We stop walking once we’re a foot away from the cars. I turn to face him. “Wow, that must’ve been magical. What's your favourite place?”
He runs a hand over his jaw. “Honestly, I’m more of a city guy. Is it wrong for me to say none?”
You visit countries in Europe and say none of them were your favourite? There is something wrong with you.
I smile instead. “To each their own.”
“You guys,” Hina opens the car door. Her face peeking out and she looks annoyed when it instantly slams back in her face. Huffing, she opens it fully to see all of us. “How are we doing this? We didn’t decide on who’s cooking or what since we’re going to the opposite sides of town.”
“Should we do rock, paper, scissors?” Shaan suggests.
“One person from each team,” Rhys looks at me, already taking his hand out. Can someone stop this? I’m under a lot of pressure.
“Whoever wins gets first choice, deal?” Katarina walks to stand behind me.
“You better win, Nova. I can’t cook for shit.” Hina’s peeking from the backseat.
And Dean is… somewhere I’d rather not focus on.
“Rock,” we move our fists like pepper and salt shakers.
“Paper,” should I do rock? I can’t tell what Rhys is going to put down when all he’s doing is smiling.
This feels like when the teacher asks a question to the class and looks at you with a small nod and smile like she thinks you know the answer when you don’t. Get me out of here. “Scissors.”
I put down paper.
Rhys puts down scissors.
Damn it.
“I’m sorry,” I say to Hina before Rhys decides what they’re going to do.
“Nova,” he jokes with a tilt of mockery. “Your team is on cooking duty, it seems.”
“Amazing,” I joke with a straight-face, but pull myself together quickly. A little fire and cutting veggies never hurt me. Sure, the most I can make is an omelette, but you live, and you learn.
The crew finally gives us the thumbs up to get into the cars.
When I walk around to the passenger seat, Rhys follows to open my door.
“I wish I was on your team,” he says. “Save some energy to talk to me later, yeah?”
My shoulders perk up, not from excitement but from the sudden awkwardness of our bodies. Rhys is technically a stranger to me and yes, he is hot. Objectively. But I’ve never truly cared about that.
I’m about to reply when a deep, gloomy shadow looms over us .
“Let’s go.”
Every nerve in my body lights up before flickering with unreleased anger.
Dean grabs the curve of the door. He’s shooing Rhys away in the most nonchalant, impolite way I’ve ever seen. He fixates his beryl eyes on me, full of silent simulacrum. I don’t know what he’s thinking and I dislike him for it.
“Right,” Rhys chuckles uncomfortably before walking away.
“Get it,” Dean says with a cock to his brow.
“I got it,” I respond with the same amount of chilling impoliteness. When I get into the car and try to close the door, it doesn’t budge. Dean’s stopping it.
“If you’re done with whatever foreplay is going on here, can we go?” Hina says from the backseat.
Green versus brown. It’s a battle of a landslide.
Deep breaths, Nova. Don’t let him get to you.
As soon as I drop my hand, the door shuts with delicate swiftness.
I want to bite his head off.
By the time he’s in the car and we’re heading down the mountain, I want to turn to him and tell him to shove his thick muscles back into his skin because they're distracting me.
Even though I am trying to look out the window, I can’t help myself from peering over at him and boom, there they are. All structured beneath his shirt and in my face. I mean if you’re going to have muscles, might as well show them off, you know?
Take your shirt off, Dean. Let me see them for scientific purposes.
“Nova.” One word and my eyes pop out of my sockets. Don’t tell me he saw me.
It’s not like you’re being discreet. You’re literally salivating over him.
I do the mature thing by huffing and looking away .
There’s an air of awkwardness in the car.
Dean’s stiffness, Hina’s silence, and my shuffling.
“So,” Hina begins. “Where are you from, Dean?”
“Canada.” One word, no elaboration. Terrible people skills. That should be enough of a reason to get him off the show, right?
“Cool, cool. But I meant your ethnicity.” I can practically hear Hina roll her eyes.
“Russia and Tajikistan.”
Hina perches forward. Her elbows resting in the crook of both our seats. “You speak Russian?”
Dean’s knuckles turn white. “Persian.”
“ Great conversation,” she sarcastically adds. Then she pokes my shoulder. “What about you?”
“Technically I’m from a small place called Cornwall, which is also in Canada. Fun coincidence, right?” My voice pitches with fake enthusiasm and is met with complete silence from Dean. Someone get his pretty face out of my point of view because I will douse him in gasoline.
Smacking my lips, “But ethnically, I’m from the Philippines. My sisters grew up there until I was born and then we moved to Canada.”
“If you’re from the Philippines, you’re probably good at karaoke, right?”
Of course that’s what she thinks. The typical stereotype.
Which might be true for most families that have their extended relatives living with or near them. But for my family, it’s a no. Once, I tried to get my sisters to do karaoke with me in the living room and Ma shut it down when Tatay was released from prison.
A lot of our lifestyle changed when he came back.
Especially mine. I started living with a stranger at the age of ten and called him dad .
“I wish,” I joke. “But the whole singing thing isn’t my thing.”
It is. I love singing. I do it all the time.
Every morning before I open the shop, I visit the flower market and the employees there hate to see me. Too much talking, not enough shopping.
“Do you like it?”
My body jolts like his question presses the button of an electric chair.
I stare at the side of his face, at how the lump in his jaw stands out. How he grits his teeth and turns his eyes to get a glimpse, but quickly looks away when he notices I’m staring.
It’s a harmless question, nothing at all.
But it’s the fact that he asked me.
As I’m about to reply, Hina shrieks in excitement. “ Look !”
Turning away from Dean is a task. It’s like shovelling snow when you forget to salt the driveway.
Lucerne close-up is a sight that can’t be captured in words.
Bold, yellow lights string along the city like fireflies. There’s cars, but most people are walking. It’s lively. Full of love for tourists and citizens, alike.
It looks like what I want my heart to feel like.
“We should decide on what we’re making,” is what I say with my mouth agape and staring at the city buildings and signs like they’re going to make my life better. They do if I’m being honest.
“Cheese fondue,” Hina replies while pointing at a young couple sitting on an outdoor patio with a cheese fountain in front of them.
“She’s not listening, is she?” I ask no one in particular.
“No,” Dean answers. “What about steak?”
Crickets scratch my throat. I rub the back of my neck. “That would work if I could make it. ”
“I can make it.”
My face whips towards him. “You can?”
He swallows hard, then nods.
“Steak sounds good,” Hina pitches in. “With a yummy red sauce, I would be so good with that.”
“Do you know how to cook it, Hina?” I swivel my head as much as I can to look at her.
“With these nails?” She shows me her perfectly manicured acrylics. “I’m doing nothing but sitting still and looking pretty.”
We’re the first to get back.
A butcher from one of the shops told us that all of Switzerland has quiet hours from 10pm to 6am, which is why when the clock hit nine, we finished getting what we needed (along with some snacks) and drove back home.
I haven’t talked to Dean since the car ride here, but he was following closely behind. He knew how to speak in Swiss German which isn’t surprising, considering he’s the head of security and works with people from all over the world.
He hasn’t mentioned why or how he’s here. Not once.
But I will get it out of him. Mark my words.