"Do you want some?" Brandon asked, putting the tub of strawberry flavored ice cream in front of me. His other hand was busy holding the spoon and swirling it in his mouth, mocking me.

I raised my hand, not for the ice-cream, and Brandon understood in a second. He snatched the ice-cream tub away from my face. Keeping it on the bedside table, he fumbled to get a tissue paper out from the box. I urged him on with my hand to get it faster. As soon as the tissue was in my hand, I waited for it to happen. My face scrunched up in anticipation, and Brandon winced in time with my expression.

Three, two, one... I sneezed.

The sound echoed in the room, and Brandon let out a deep breath, shaking his head at me. I sniffed, not at the point to blow my nose out yet but close. My eyes watered, and I knew I must look like a red siren with the nose and eyes matching my hair color.

"I guess I'll have the ice-cream alone." He chuckled, enjoying another scoop of the delicious strawberry delight. But with the way my body was feeling, I wasn't jealous one bit.

The blanket was now on the floor, one of the by-products of my sneeze. I scooted down to pick it up. My head swam for a moment as blood rushed into it, black spots clouding my vision for a moment. Dread filled in me as I realized that this cold would not go soon. Gathering my strength, I picked up the blanket and snuggled deeper in the bed.

Brandon watched me in silence, and I felt like a laboratory mouse under his gaze. "You don't look all right," he stated after a minute of inspection.

"No shit Sherlock," I muttered, giving him a not-so-subtle eye roll.

"Ouch." He clutched his heart, over acting, but then turned back into serious mode. "Dunking in the sea was a stupid idea after all."

"Shut up. It was fun. And you got your ice-cream." I pouted.

"I did." He grinned, scooping another spoonful as I watched him lick it away. I felt embarrassed and a pervert as he repeated the tongue action. Brandon knew this, teasing me with one show after another.

I huffed, giving up. "You only won one ice-cream. I have a month of free supply."

He shrugged, and I felt the teeny bit of satisfaction slip away. What was the point of winning the bet when I would go around with runny nose?

"Why am I the only one sick?" I whined, kicking out the blanket as my body turned hot from cold. But the cool air hit me moments later, and I felt a shiver run down me. Why couldn't I find the right temperature? Irritated, I picked up my phone. I thought of messaging my mother and telling her about my condition, but then checked the time. It was quarter to eight pm right now. She would be busy preparing for the day.

Wi-Fi connection was good, and thinking of passing my time surfing, I sat up straighter. I saw Brandon bent down on his phone as well and didn't disturb him.

Famous gay people, I typed in on Google. A list of celebrities opened, and I skimmed through it. Nothing interesting came up, so I typed again.

How to come out to your parents. A lot of articles showed up, along with many YouTube videos. Seeing few of the YouTubers I liked, I opened the video and watched as they declared in front of the world they were after all human beings just with different preferences.

"What are you watching?" Brandon slid closer, his body warming my right side as he pressed up to it. Feeling awfully aware of the situation, I felt heat rushing up my cheeks. To avoid embarrassment or his teasing I tilted the phone, so he had clear view of the screen.

"YouTube. I keep thinking about how we should help Bella. Maybe I'll find a clue or an idea somewhere?" His neck craned forward, his cheek just inches away from my lips. I blinked hard and willed myself not to stare.

This was normal. Why was I so hyper-aware right now? The cold, definitely the cold is the reason.

Brandon didn't reply, but stared at the screen in silence. He had his concentration face on, the same I had noticed when we had cooked today. Lips pouted upwards, and eyebrows together in thought. I let him think, wishing he came up with a miracle idea and—

"Nope, nothing," he stated in a straight voice, giving me an innocent look. "No miracle idea from me. Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor? You were just saying all that."

"I was not!" I said in indignation, cheeks burning up even more. I wasn't saying all of that aloud, was I?

"Yes, you were. And you just said 'was I'. And I don't think it was for my ears." He stood up with that, walking over to the hotel telephone.

"Who are you calling?" I narrowed my eyes, already suspicious. Walking on all four across the bed to him beside the side table, I raised my eyebrows.

"Doctor," he said, but then noticed my pitiful look. He put down the receiver and sighed. "Fine, at least get medicine then."

I nodded with relief.

The telephone rang just then, and Brandon picked it up, not missing a single beat.

"Yes?" He raised his eyebrows as he listened. I scooted closer and mouthed 'who is it', but he told me to wait with his hand. I licked my lips, leaning back to rest my back. After a few grunts, nodding and whole lot of expressions, Brandon put the receiver down.

Patience wasn't my quality, and Brandon knew it. "That was Francis," he said before the question uttered out from my mouth. I raised my eyebrows, and he seemed to deliberate between telling me what was up and brushing it away.

A minute later, he muttered, a slow grin spreading on his face, "Are you up for dinner at a five star restaurant?"

Of course I replied with an over enthusiastic shout, "Yes!"

*****

"Remember, we are not here just for the free food," I whispered to Brandon. One by one inching my fingers down, I straightened my pastel skater skirt without calling attention.

"But we are here for the free food," he stated.

I gave him a look that said why the hell I would have worn a skirt when each gust of wind triggered a billion sneezes? With a shrug we looked away from each other. We both knew except for the free food (which was the main reason, to be honest) there was a much bigger mountain waiting for us to climb.

Alard Rousell.

My eyes stopped on him as the waiter escorted us to our table. Francis, Roger, Giulia and Bella were all seated and waiting for us. Brandon and I took our seats. Me in the most unfortunate situation seated directly beside Alard on my right-hand side.

Bella was in front of me and I gave her a wide smile and then to Giulia, who looked all warm and healed from the previous episode.

I had thought of bringing Bea along, but she had insisted that she had rather watch a movie in her room and didn't want to end up with food all over herself eating with one hand. She had been happy with the cakes I had brought from the competition earlier, so I had tried not to feel too guilty about leaving her behind in the hotel all the time. Fast recovery was much important though if we had to travel back safely a few days later.

"Sir," I addressed him last and Brandon held my left hand under the table linen. A small smile lit up my face at that, and Alard thinking it was for him, turned his head away.

Awkward much.

"Giulia, are you all right this evening?" he asked. At least he was polite enough to use English when most of them were French natives.

"Oui." Her voice forced, and she had a not-so-subtle sour expression on her face. A little later, it dawned upon me that she must hate the man like plague. Well, future daughter-in-law had to practice her acting skills in that case.

"Everyone, eat to your heart's content," he announced. Impressed with how much money he will spend on kids that were conspiring behind his back, I nodded.

We ordered close to the whole menu and the hotel staff, more than happy to oblige to one of the biggest personalities in the cooking world took our orders with growing glee. I knew special care would be given to each of the dishes and it would be quite some time when they would present us with the food.

The conversation at our table was like dead meat, only the sounds of my muffled sniffing and the occasional sneeze breaking the monotonic silence. When another one of my sneeze resulted in Alard being bombarded with the droplet, he gave up. Scraping the chair loudly against the floor, he whipped out his starch filled handkerchief and wiped his face. I didn't dare make eye contact as he went to the bathroom. If anything, I wanted to bury myself and save the embarrassment.

The sound of laughter breaking out from the adjacent table made me look in that direction. A medium sized, lanky Asian woman, dressed in an elegant evening gown, accompanied by half a dozen gangsters was looking at me. (Gangsters because, all of them wore biker jackets, and were triple the normal human size.) The woman had her eyes all crinkled up and her laughing lines were visible as she laughed her heart out at my situation. I smiled at her, giving her a small nod of acknowledgement.

The soups arrived just then, stealing my attention away from her. Waiters put the steaming bowls of appetizers in front of us, and my stomach growled. Steam wafted up from the bowl, watering my mouth with its delicious smell. Reminding myself that it was a five star restaurant, and drooling on the tablecloth was not an attractive sight, I restrained myself. Alard wasn't back yet, and I wished that he would return before our soups got cold. It wasn't like we could eat without him when he was the one paying for it.

"Ty," Bella called. I looked up, surprised that she used my nickname, but delighted. After all, she was the one who had extended the offer of her father's dinner to us. She had brilliantly turned the tables by inviting us along and saving herself the trouble. Because I knew for sure, a dinner date between Francis, her and her dad would have been disastrous.

"Yes?" I asked, my hand playing with the lid of one cellar.

"Can you pass me the salt?" she pointed to the other cellar, and I nodded.

"Sure." I picked it with my right hand and extended it over the table which was far too wide for a comfy dinner. My other hand went to wipe the sweat above my upper lip. The exact moment I inhaled was when my finger brushed my nose.

Smell of black pepper assaulted my nose. My nostrils tingled with the inhale of black pepper, close to triggering another one of my nasty sneezes. Brandon leaned back from me, muttering incomprehensible curses, already dreading it. Without warning, it came once more. The sound of my sneeze echoed in the room. A dead silence followed that.

The saltcellar in my hand burst open from one side as it shook. As soon as I opened my eyes, I watched its contents empty inside Alard's soup, along with all my insides in me. Leave it to my luck to have its position right above his bowl. The salt heaped on his soup and slowly like an iceberg melting, dissolved into it.

There was an even worse silence. More like my funereal as I took my hand back and stared at the bowl of soup. My eyes met the same woman who had been laughing earlier, and she looked as shocked as I was.

"Switch the soup!" Bella hissed, and I snapped my head back to her. "If he drinks this he might sue the restaurant—wah... delicious!"

Bella shoved up a spoonful of her soup in her mouth, slapping her head with her hand. My eyes went wide as Alard took his seat, giving me a glare. I swallowed. Soon, he would find an even worse reason to glare at me. To my eyes, at that moment, he looked so innocent and unaware... He had no idea that his soup had twenty times the amount of salt. However, we knew, and I had mixed reactions about it.

Bella had her head in her arms, and it was hard to know if she was regretting calling me or laughing her ass off.

Alard picked up the spoon, and my heart rate spiked up, thinking what if it came down to closing the restaurant. I panicked as he put the spoon in, stirring it, making it even worse.

"Tyler, do something. Please. From Bella," Brandon whispered, and I noticed that that message had been passed through all of them to come to me. Great.

What was I supposed to do?

Alard picked up the spoon, each of us watching it progress. But it couldn't happen, not without the disastrous consequences. I closed my eyes once and winced.

Here I go.

I stood up abruptly, the China plates on the table rattling. Alard's hand halted mid-way, curious what I was doing. Oh, he had no idea. With a swallow, I opened my mouth wide and bent forward. From all around and beside me, I heard gasps as I enclosed the spoon in my mouth and swallowed the soup.

For a moment it was all right, and I felt regret for taking this embarrassing step. But then the salt hit my tongue, and a shudder went through me with its intensity. I cried out and hoped that people took it as the deliciousness of the food and not my tortured sound. Alard pulled his hand away so quickly, his expression beyond horrified, that it made me confused who to pity more. Him or me.

With eyes almost filled with tears, I gave him a grin. "Mr. Alard, this soup is delicious. Do you mind if we exchange?" I choked out, my face cringing and my left hand holding my skirt like life support as wave upon wave of saltiness hit my tongue. He looked bewildered and out of it, and I took the chance to exchange our soups without question and settled back down.

Brandon, Bella, Francis, Giulia and Roger were giving me looks of wonder and respect along with muffled laughter as I found my own spoon. Alard was red in the face, stunned into silence. The whole restaurant seemed to pity or laugh at me. What I wanted to do the most was curl up and fade away, but the reality was harsh.

Alard watched me with hawk eyes as I lifted the spoon to my lips. Dread filling the bottom of my stomach. I heard too much sodium was harmful; shouldn't God be saving me from this pitiful situation? Close to swallowing the soup, Brandon elbowed me, pointing to a miraculously transported plant beside my chair.

"How did that come here?" I whispered. Brandon pointed and I looked back to see that one of the gangster, as I called them, walk back towards the woman's table quick as lightning. She raised her glass and then acted as if she was pouring it out and then pointed towards the plant. I immediately understood and nodded, giving her a grateful smile.

Bella busied Alard by talking to him, and I slipped the bowl down, tipping half the soups content into the flower pot. It was my luck that it was a fake plant, or I would have felt too sad to let the plant die.

"Phew," I exhaled, raising the soup bowl quickly enough that it escaped Alard's notice.

"You know that there is no day when you don't land yourself in trouble? Restaurants seem to be your favorite spot," Brandon whispered.

"No need to mention it." I sniffled; I knew it all too well.

"Don't be a cry-baby now." He squeezed my hand and then exchanged his soup with mine. "Have a taste at least. It's actually good without the extra salt."

I gave him such a heart filled look, grateful enough that I would have kissed him right there and then, hadn't it been for a public space and my close to runny nose. Brandon shook his head, amused by me. I shrugged. At least I got the soup.

When Alard watched me, I was enjoying the soup, and not like, I was being tortured for my sins. Brandon had deposited the rest of soup in the flowerpot with ease and was munching on a breadstick.

Conversations remained strained between Alard and me the whole time and Bella's expression showed her disappointment by the minute. My mind was still reeling on how I could help her when I felt a tap on my shoulder. The smell of cider and sandals mixed with exotic herbs assaulted my nose and I saw the woman saunter up ahead, her direction towards the woman's restroom. I got her signal and seeing no harm in it, I told Brandon where I was going and excused myself.

"Good evening," she spoke as soon as I entered the big as an apartment restroom. She was bent down towards the washbasin, washing her hands and watching me through the reflection.

I gave her a smile, shuffling my feet and putting my hair behind my ears. "Hi."

"You have a pretty voice, young lady."

"Thank you."

"That was a hilarious show you put up on there. Are you a comedian?"

"No, ma'am," I replied, not taking offence. Truth to be told, anyone would think I am from circus and pulling tricks every day.

"I am Kiki." She extended her arm. Without hesitance I shook them.

"Tyler. Thank you for your assistance back there. Say thanks to that gangster—" I covered my mouth at the mistake, ready to apologise. We were at five star restaurant, I couldn't just label people based on their attire.

"Is it that obvious?" She laughed.

"What is?"

"Those are real gangsters. Bodyguards appointed by my father." She saw my shocked expression and explained further. "My dad's the Mafia Boss."

"Right." My palms were suddenly sweaty, and the air was hotter. I had no trouble believing her, if she said Mafia Boss, I believed Mafia Boss. Calculating distance from my position to the door, and then back, I caught Kiki's expression once again.

She was laughing. At me. She wasn't fooling me, was she? Either case, I was not willing to taking any chances.

"Thank you so much. I should really leave now—" There was a tremor in my voice, and she noticed it too, grabbing my hand to hold me back. There must be a CCTV camera here though, right? My mother had to know how I died...

"Wait. I won't hurt you," she stated.

Yeah, just spawn me off to a different country.

"No, I won't!"

Shit, I spoke aloud again.

"Yes, you did."

I just shook my head this time. Either she was psychic, or I definitely required my medicine.

"Listen. You gave me such a laugh after a tough day with my bodyguard gangsters. I want to help you."

I narrowed my eyes at her insistence, but affected by the honest tone of her voice. With hesitance, I asked, "How?"

"I overheard you and your friend talking. Isn't that girl Bella homosexual?" She said loudly, and I hissed, asking her to keep it down.

She kept her eyebrows up, seeking confirmation. With reluctance, I accepted the fact. What harm could it do when she already overheard it?

"See, the truth is I am the same. And I know the struggle of making your parent accept the truth. Next to impossible when they are the Mafia Boss." She added as an afterthought. I listened to her, waiting for her to come to the point.

"Look me up on Google. You might get ideas to help your friend. And if there is any trouble, call me here." She handed me her business card, half the words in Chinese and half in English. Her steps echoed away after that, and I followed behind in a daze.

"What happened?" Brandon asked as I took my seat.

"Nothing much, was just hit upon by a woman who thought I was a comedian," I replied casually, making up stuff.

"What?" Brandon snorted. After a moment of silence, he spoke, "She didn't give you her number, did she?