Love in All the Right Places (Chick Lit bundle) (28 page)

But when I looked up to glance at Jesse, his expression was far from amused. "Come on. I'll come with you, let's have a look at it." He took his keycard and led the way out of his room to mine.

When we got to the bathroom though, the mist had disappeared and there was no message. "It was there, I'm not lying!" I exclaimed defensively.

"I'm not saying you are," Jesse told me. He walked closer to the mirror and peered at it from the side. He rubbed a finger against the mirror's surface. Nothing. He looked around the bathroom counter and spotted my small water mister. He sprayed it all over the mirror. Nothing happened at first, just a fine sprinkling of water beads on the surface. But moments after, the word 'DIE!' showed up again.

"SEE!" I shrieked. "It's there!" But somehow, it wasn't as scary as before. Maybe it was less of a shock by then. Or maybe Jesse's presence made a difference. The mirror made squeaky sounds as he rubbed at the word.

"Waterproofing," he explained. "Someone wrote the word on the mirror by using some waterproof substance. Probably a prankster who occupied this room before you. Or a disgruntled employee who wanted to mess with the hotel guests. It is pretty clever. Housekeeping won't notice it, but it'll come out when a person steams the room up with hot bath water."

"Just call up housekeeping so they can clean it up tomorrow, while we're out," he suggested. "Are you all right though?" He looked at me curiously, trying to gauge how I was feeling. "Do you want to sleep in my room?"

I must have frowned because he was quick to explain. "I mean, do you want to swap rooms. You can take my room and I'll sleep here, if you're still uneasy about sleeping with the 'DIE!' thing."

"No, thanks. I think I'll be all right now," I replied. Sure enough, his explanation did make me feel better. "I appreciate it though, really. Thanks for the offer." I smiled, a real one this time. His proposal took me by surprise. It was like he cared.

"I have two younger sisters," he said, as if seeking to fill the awkward silence. "This kind of thing rattles them. Our youngest one, especially. She's twelve going on thirty."

"Ah, that explains it. No wonder you were so ready to come to the rescue. Probably used to getting calls demanding that you kill flying cockroaches," I smiled at the image of Jesse being all big brother, thwacking flying roaches with a rubber slipper.

"Yes." He paused. "But it's usually from our eldest brother," he added with a straight face, before breaking into a grin as well. He cleared his throat before proceeding. "Five?  When I apologized on the plane, I meant it. I know I offended you during our first meeting and I really am sorry. The truth is, I'm not such a bad guy once you get to know me. What do you say we start again?"

I considered his proposal. While I was really angry at him then, the passing time and the little kindnesses he has shown me made me think that maybe, bygones should be bygones. I extended my hand to him. Reset mode on. "Hi, my name's Five Cuevas. I'm an opinionated travel blogger who loves cake and cookies. Nice to meet you."

He took the hand I offered and gave it a firm shake. "I'm Jesse Ruiz. I'm an art director by day and a disgruntled, overworked minion by overtime. Please ignore any rumors from female travel bloggers named Five that I'm a jerk. I'm out to prove her wrong."

"Can you?" I challenged.

"I'll do my best," he replied. "Always ready to rise to the challenge. Peace?"

"Peace."

"Now if you're sure about not trading rooms, I better go ahead. Long day ahead of us and, uh... you probably want to change into something more comfortable already." He averted his eyes from my bathrobe which had gone a bit loose around the neckline. I quickly reached up to pull it closed.

"Yeah, you're right. Thanks again. See you tomorrow." I walked him to the door, a little self-conscious about the suggestive picture we made, but mostly grateful for his help.

I continued getting ready for bed, eager to slip between the luxuriously soft sheets and warm goose down comforter. I think back to the encounter with Jesse earlier. I liked the idea of burying the hatchet already. It was nice knowing I don't have to worry about animosity or awkward moments tomorrow. The fact was, we still had the rest of the trip ahead of us and we were supposed to be travel bodies. Buddies. I mean travel buddies. Where did that come from?

Chapter 6

#Reset

"PIE," JESSE SAID AS HE SLID in the chair across me. I stared at him like he was nuts. How could he mistake pancakes for pie? "Maybe the message wasn't 'DIE!'. Maybe it was 'PIE!'. And the vandal just had a really, really bad craving for pie. Key lime, probably." All the while, he was calmly buttering his pancakes, as if sharing silly theories with me was the most normal thing in the world.

"Apple. Not key lime. It was probably apple. Who craves for key lime pie anyway? Now apple pie, especially ala mode. That's the thing," I replied, not missing a beat.

"
Buko pie
," he replied adamantly. "The ones from D' Original Pie in Los Baños. The one on the right side of the road when you're going down to Manila. That's the real D' Original. The other D' Originals are just banking on the name."

"Ah, but if we're talking homegrown stuff, it has to be egg pie," I argued. "Those cheap eggy treats from your neighborhood
panaderia
. That's the one that really hits the spot."

Megh stared at us like we were nuts. Her eyes pingponged from Jesse to me, as if watching the world's most fascinating exchange. It was perfectly understandable considering how we were transparently avoiding each other yesterday. When we had no choice but to be together, we were civil and polite. Now we were talking like best buddies. I guess being threatened with 'DIE!' was the sort of experience that brought people together.

Or 'PIE!' if Jesse's theory was correct.

"Oh, speaking of egg pie, did you hear about the Egg Tart wars? We're heading to Lord Stow's later right? For what is presumably the island's best egg tarts? Apparently, the title for best is still in dispute. I read in a food blog somewhere that Lord Stow's ex-wife set up her own shop and some people are touting it as the best. Want to check it out during our free time?" But instead of waiting for my reply, he suddenly stops and shakes his head.

"Oh shoot, I knew I forgot something. Excuse me." Jesse slid off his seat, probably in search of whatever he forgot. I stared at the plate before him. A sloppily arranged set of pancakes were sitting on Jesse's abandoned plate, buttered unevenly, waiting for a liberal helping of the maple syrup sitting in a small container beside his plate.

"Did I miss something?" Megh was quick to ask, her eyes narrowing. "What's up with the sudden BFFs forever exchange? Did you guys end up going clubbing last night? You were just pretending to stay in to ditch me, didn't you?"

"Of course not! I told you I was staying in," I quickly replied. "I just needed some help and we ended up talking. We agreed that burying the hatchet was preferable if we're going to be travel buddies. You were there during the briefing. Do we look like we could be BFFs?"

Megh pondered the question. "Yeah, you're right. That argument was epic," she grinned. "You totally trashed Jesse. He looked so dumbfounded afterward, I wanted to pull him to my chest and give him a big comforting hug." I lifted an eyebrow at the comment. "Oh, you know what I mean," she winked, giving me her big sexy smile afterwards.

"Besides, you're right. It does seem hard to imagine you two getting along. Jesse looks like a thrill-seeker, you're absolute buzz kill—I mean, no offense, but you told me yourself, you'd rather spend a day in a museum rather than do something like bungee jump off Macau Tower."

I was just about to stop her, wanting to tell her that I might just jump off the tower. But that would put undue pressure on me. What if I do end up not jumping? That'll only strengthen her buzz kill argument. It would be better to surprise her with the photos after. Well, provided that I do manage the jump.

Our conversation was cut short when Jesse came back with a plate of bacon and cheese slices. Without another word, he carefully started layering buttered pancake, strips of bacon, cheese slice, another pancake, more bacon and cheese, continuing until all the pancakes, bacon and cheese were gone. Then, he poured maple syrup on top, gleefully watching as the syrup trickled like lava over his creation. When he looked up, it was to see Megh and me intently staring at him like he had a few screws loose.

"What? Never seen anyone make bacon pancakes before?" he cried defensively.

"No, I've never seen anyone make such a sloppy mess of pancakes before," I replied faster than my brain can censor the thought.

"That's only because you're little Miss OC," he retorted, gesturing to my perfectly arranged plate of bacon, eggs and tomatoes. "Look at that. You're probably budgeting the proportion of each meal component, rationing to make sure that every bite gets enough of each."

"Am not!" Even if it were true. I mean, it's not like it's a bad thing. My OCness always paid off, as my travel expense accounting posts were among the most popular posts on my blog. Of course, I just didn’t want to admit it to him.

To prove a point, I bit into a rasher of bacon and continued stuffing it in my mouth until it's all in, even if I felt bad afterwards because I still had so much egg and tomato, and not enough bacon now. Because, well, you have to proportion them properly, right? Otherwise, you won't get that perfect bite each time, right?

"Why so defensive then?" He victoriously forked a mouthful of the gloppy pancake mess in his mouth before grinning at me, looking like a chipmunk with stuffed cheeks.

Megh just rolled her eyes. "Somebody save me from the little kids' table," she said under her breath, before gesturing at a server for more coffee.

I TURNED AROUND TO GIVE JESSE a little "I told you so smile" as we brought up the rear during our small walking tour group. He was burdened by his kick ass camera set-up, large full frame Nikon DSLR with fancy schmancy, pricey telephoto zoom lens, complete with a tripod strapped to his backpack. Said backpack probably had a couple more lenses, too. He refused to answer my question when I laughed at him for looking like a turtle with the big-ass camera bag.

Earlier that morning, Javier showed up at our hotel without Chang. "Oh great, you have your cameras out," he smiled at the cameras we were all lugging. "That's perfect. There are a lot of UNESCO World Heritage sites near Ponte 16, so I thought we could spend the morning exploring them on foot instead of taking the van. That way, you can also appreciate the surrounding areas and take better photos, yes?"

Unfortunately for Jesse, the small walking tour Javier mapped out for us wasn't the short walk we all imagined. By the time we started climbing the stairs in front of the Ruins of St. Paul, Jesse was breathing heavily. If it were summer, he probably would've been sweating buckets, too.

I was tired as well, but I refused to let it show. Mostly because he was scoffing at my small Canon DSLR with its small lightweight lens ("Oh, a Canon with a 50mm. That's cute.") when I first brought it out that morning. So instead of commiserating with him, I made an even bigger show of happily taking photos. Much to his annoyance.

"These are the Ruins of St. Paul," Javier announced once we reached the top of the stairs. He had to put extra effort to make sure he was heard. Because it was a Saturday, we were surrounded by tourists, mostly visitors from Mainland China who were touring on a weekend. "The church facade behind me is all that's left of the Church of Mater Dei. It was built in 1602 but it was destroyed by a fire in 1835. Most of the church and the college beside it was made of wood, so other than the facade, most of the foundations, and the church's front steps, everything burned."

Javier glanced at his watch. "The Ruins of St. Paul is an icon of Macau so I know you guys will want to take pictures. We don't have much time, but I can probably give you ten minutes. I'll go ahead to the Museum of Sacred Art so they can get ready for us, but I'll come back for you, yes? Don't venture far okay?"

Behind me, I heard Jesse curse. "How the heck are we supposed to take pictures here?" He had begun setting his tripod up, but can't seem to figure out where to set it up. "Every where I turn, tour groups! I don't think I can get a clear vantage point of the facade," he grumbled. He looked around for someone to agree with him, but Megh and Simon had already ventured off, taking their own shots of the ruins and surrounding areas.

And me? I just shrugged. "There's no way you can get a clean shot." I agreed with him, but I still kept snapping photos. "Just make the most of it." Libby, during her pre-flight briefing, already told me about the tourist situation. I knew it was impossible to get a clean shot so instead, I chose to focus on candid street photography. Instead of laboring to exclude the tourists, I included them, with their color-coordinated hats and the banners held aloft by their tour guides.

"I can't believe you're actually enjoying this," he added as he held his camera aloft, trying to figure out which shot to take before setting it up on his tripod. I just smiled at his comment and continued snapping away, settling for candid shots of the crowd. I bring my phone out as well, taking a snapshot or two to upload on Instagram and Twitter.

The truth was, I was enjoying myself because I had a game plan. Thanks to Libby, I already knew which shot I wanted to take. I also knew that I couldn't get that shot now; I'll need to come back later. But of course, I didn't tell Jesse. I wanted that shot for myself. I could already see it as the lead-in photo for my blog's Macau series. And I'm the only one among the four of us who'll have it. Sure, it's not a contest, but that doesn't mean I can't be competitive, right?

"Ah, I give up," Jesse said defeatedly. He turned his camera's LCD screen to me to show me what he had. Instead of doing a wide shot, he focused on taking architectural details. The widest shot he had was that of the facade but taken starting from above people's heads. It wasn't the most impressive picture in the world, but it was unmistakably a photo of the ruins. "Bland, huh?"

"Yeah, that's pretty lackluster," I agreed distractedly, getting back to uploading my photo on Instagram. "Why don't you just buy a postcard at one of the souvenir shops down there? Those are much better."

Jesse let out a hearty laugh. "You really don't believe in sparing my feelings, do you, Five?"

I had the decency to blush. "What, you want me to lie and say it's pretty?" I argued defensively.

"No, no. Stay that way. It's pretty refreshing, actually. I'm sick of all those 'Excellent work! I love it!' comments, only to have it followed by instructions that want me to change everything." He intoned with a squeaky voice, "'It really is the best, but maybe we could make it more, I don't know, hip and trendy? Blue isn't hip anymore, I heard emerald's the Pantone color of the year.  Maybe you can also use a fresher font? And the logo, I really think we can make the logo bigger.' Advertising. Not for the faint of heart."

I cringed at his depiction of a typical day at work. "That bad, huh?"

"Uh-huh, that bad. Actually, it's usually worse. So, keep putting me in my place," he added, ruffling my hair. "You'll be my sardonic little guardian angel."

I stuck my tongue out at him, a very juvenile gesture that has him laughing even harder. His last line felt like a backhanded compliment, but I found myself unconsciously beaming with pride at having received it.

THE WALKING TOUR WAS JUST THE START of another long day. Not that I was complaining. Senado Square, The Holy House of Mercy, Sto. Domingo Church, The Ruins of St. Paul, Ng Cha Temple and The Monte Fortress were all fascinating to see. But I have to confess, I was relieved when Chang and his van arrived to pick us up.

From the old world UNESCO Heritage Tour, we found ourselves taking the elevator to the Macau Tower's observation lounge. "Welcome to the Macau Tower," Javier announced proudly as the elevator opened to let us out the indoor observation deck. "Macau Tower is an internationally acclaimed convention and entertainment center that offers the highest and most dramatic views of Macau. Aside from the exhibition halls and conference facilities, there is an array of shops and cinemas here. The world's highest bungee jump facility, which we'll be visiting later, is also here."

"This floor we are now on, the 58th, is the indoor observation deck. For the curious, we are now 223 meters above the ground. If you look to your left, you'll see the city skyline of the Pearl River Delta." Javier was in full tour guide mode, herding us along. After taking a few photos, I put my camera down to follow him along. Unfortunately, I happened to look down.

Oh hello, feet. You seem to be walking on air. I had to suppress a small scream and fight dizziness when I realized I was walking on a glass floor. A glass floor suspended 223 meters above the ground.

"Hey, you okay?" Jesse was immediately at my side, holding on to my elbow. "Look up. Don't look at your feet," he said as soon as he realized I was having issues with the height.

"Thanks," I said weakly, letting him guide me to the nearest lounge chair that was on a solid, opaque surface. "I'm not too good with heights," I explained as soon as we were seated. "Not to the point of acrophobia. I can usually handle it, but that floor took me by surprise."

"It's all right, you don't need to explain. The floor took me by surprise, too. Just take deep breaths and relax. Javier said he'll let us explore and take pictures in the meantime, so you stay put and get your bearings first." When Jesse stood up to leave, I finally let my composure crumble as I melted into the sofa. God, I looked really stupid. At least I didn't scream or anything.