"Let's do it."

Brandon gulped.

"Come on, just put it in."

"We won't be able to revert it..." he trailed off, gripping it in his hand. I flicked my eyes down to his hand and then back at him, my nerve endings tingling. Not wanting to give much thought to it, I pouted, but he started again, "It'll hurt-"

"I know," I said. Being frank, that was one thing I was afraid of. But I still hadn't said no.

"But the satisfaction-"

"I know!" Despite myself, I was irritated.

"So?"

"So?" I repeated.

"A-are you sure?" Brandon asked again, his eyes searching mine for sincerity. Tension grew the longer he held it up in his hand.

He moved with his head to make eye contact with me, but I avoided his eyes. Still our eyes met for a brief second, and I knew he saw indecision in them.

"Uh-" I stalled, conflicted. This shouldn't have been this difficult. It certainly never was in movies. I bit the inside of my cheeks, lost in thought. Brandon took my silence as affirmative and I had to shout to stop him, "Wait!"

He sighed, tired of it. For the last time, I turned and asked, "What do you think Francis?"

Francis's head snapped up, staring at Brandon and me with wide eyes. I pitied him. He was still somewhat frozen in shock about what we had told him about Bella and Giulia and their relationship.

"We shouldn't, right?" I used my hands to make something get in his mind. His eyes focused when I tapped his shoulders.

"What were you saying?" he hesitated, looking between the two of us.

"We were talking about the pen drive with Bella's video. Should we put it up on YouTube?" I explained in a slow manner as if talking to a baby.

"Sure," he said, without a pause. "No, wait," he mumbled, making me grin, and Brandon groan.

The truth was neither of us was sure about the next step. If we hadn't known about her story, we wouldn't have hesitated. But now, if we uploaded the video, we knew for sure it would destroy Bella and her public image. Something she gave too much importance to. And kind of ruin our purpose in helping her in the long run.

But, if we didn't, there was an equal side of costs and benefits, if I remembered my economics well. First would be our wasted effort. Though it was something I was ready to look upon. But second would be our doomed revenge. There was still a tiny (not that tiny) part of me that was eager for Bella to taste her own medicine. But then again, I couldn't say everything was uncalled for.

Brandon put down the pen drive with a snap, getting up from the bed. The laptop sat in loneliness as he went to the mini-fridge and took a water bottle out. His face showed frustration, and I could tell he was conflicted, yet wanted to get over it soon.

He had waited too long, waiting for me to decide whether uploading Bella's confession was worth it or not. The three of us might have dilly-dallied the whole afternoon long, not being able to reach to a conclusion. So it was a breath of relief when the answer came to us as a text.

My phone played the short ring tone and as a normal person I went for it the moment I heard the buzz. I flitted through the short text, my jaw dropping.

"Listen to this," I called out, and they scooted closer. "Rebecca, that's my best friend, she texted me this: Bella's Snapchat."

"Damn. She's faster," Brandon muttered, pulling the phone out of my hand. He zoomed in to Bella's and my picture, standing side by side in our aprons. I had no clue where the picture was taken, but the message was clear.

Or more so the caption:

WITH MY NEW BESTIE! (With a pink heart.)

"This friend--Oreo Thief," Brandon read the name I had saved Rebecca's number with, and gave me a weird look. He shook his head, and completed what he was saying, "She texted again."

He handed me the phone, and I giggled inside. God forbid he saw the name I had saved his number with--The Naked Guy. He would never live it down.

I went over Rebecca's text:

Dude, did you see that picture? It's uploaded everywhere! EVERYWHERE!

I at once typed a reply.

WHAT?! I thought you said Snapchat.

Yes, but every other place too! What did you do? Did she force you into slavery? And is now using the excuse to save face? Do I have to save you?

What? No! I am not her slave.

So you are really her best friend now? You cheat.

We are not!

Then, what did you do?

I did nothing.

As if. Even the video is down. TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!

I chuckled at her excessive screaming in my head, and Brandon eyed me.

Okay. It's long, and it's supposed to be midnight there. I'll call you in the evening (your morning!).

Ugh, fine. Don't you dare forget!

I won't.

Adding a couple more smiley(s) to satisfy her, I turned to the bored gentlemen sitting with me. I didn't speak for a moment, observing their stances.

Francis was unusually quiet, scrolling through his phone with a frown. I turned to Brandon, who was in return observing me. His arms rested behind him, and he sat with a majestic pose, his defined muscles creating soft mounts like ripples on his cotton t-shirt. He raised his eyebrow when he caught my traveling eyes, and I suppressed the heat rising on my face.

Stop staring, you'll creep him out, I cleared my head with a shake and took the nefarious thoughts out.

A slow grin spread on my face, and Brandon's eyebrows went a notch higher, curious. I clapped my hands together, calling attention. The high pitched tone of my voice made my excitement clear. "The dilemma is over! Bella deleted the video."

"She did?" Francis got up, reaching for the laptop. But Brandon was a step ahead, searching up for it on the Internet.

"I know she is acting weird, sure, but this is one thing she did right. See?" I said when the bookmarked link showed no video available.

"The video really got removed," Brandon whispered, shutting the laptop. "But what about the rumors? That'll still take a while to settle."

"Not from what I've heard. Reb is like the savviest tech person I know. And when she says Bella is promoting our so called 'Bestie Friendship' everywhere? She means everywhere."

"On Facebook...?" Brandon hesitated.

"Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat. It even shows up on Google."

"What? How do you know that?"

"Just searched it." I displayed them my phone, and the article from a few entertainment sites citing the latest celebrity gossip. We had spent the last three-four hours speculating about the video and had come up with nothing, while Bella had conquered the social media in the same time.

A small flutter in my stomach made me realize that I was glad we hadn't uploaded the video. How much ever I wanted to get back to her, I couldn't do it at the expense of someone else's happiness.

"Now what?" Brandon asked, pulling me out of my reverie and the small smile on my lips faded away.

"Now what, what?" I blinked, not understanding him.

"What do we do?"

"We do nothing. But let's just keep the video for a later time," I added as an afterthought.

Brandon shook his head. "Not about that. What to do about Bella?" He emphasized her name, trying to send a message across. But my thick skull was impenetrable today, and I looked at him with a blank expression.

With a sigh he explained, "Bella uploaded these pictures and articles to help you right?"

I nodded.

"She cleared your name. Herself."

I nodded.

"That means she trusts you."

I tilted my head at that, frowning. Well, one could suppose that it showed trust. She certainly didn't hesitate to label me as her new best friend, meaning she was coming around to the idea of me helping her.

Which meant, I still didn't have a plan on how to help her.

"Oh, shit," I muttered, and Brandon nodded, pleased with my reaction.

"What do we do? Francis will you marry her?" I blurted out, and Francis paled.

"I-I-" he stammered.

"Forget I asked. I promised her she won't have to marry you." My reply was fast. Francis sighed in relief, his shoulders slumping.

"I am sorry. I can't see it happening too. More so now. Believe me; winning the competition is not the goal now."

"I think so too. Brandon," I said, turning to him. "We said we'll make her win, but what's the point? Francis knows the truth. The bet is close to invalid."

"Winning is still the goal, Ty. It's just a different game now." He bit his lower lip, a sullen expression masking his face. "We must convince Bella's father to accept her."

"That's next to impossible. Between you and me, we don't even know him."

"I know."

"But," I stalled, "Francis might."

"I do, in fact. He is one scary French father, you both deal with him." He shrugged, and we didn't force him to do otherwise.

Silence enveloped us as we all sat there with our thinking caps on.

I was the first one to break the silence. "Should we try calling him? You must have his phone number, right?"

"Oui..." he said, taking his phone out.

"What will you say?" Brandon stopped me before I could dial the number. I put the hotel receiver down and thought about it.

"See, from what we got from Bella, she doesn't know what her father thinks. So how about finding that out? Maybe if he is fine with that, we can convince him?"

"Are you sure we shouldn't discuss this with Bella first?" Brandon asked, and I was quick to reply with a shake of my head.

"She is scared, she'll say no. And don't worry, I won't tell who I am." I brushed off his concerns and hit the dial button.

The bell rung three times, four times, it went on for so long that I had given up hope of someone picking up the phone. But with a reassuring click, someone picked up, and a deep gruff voice filled the speaker.

"Allô?" I gulped at the authoritative tone behind the voice and took a deep breath before speaking anything.

"Bonjour monsieur, I am speaking from a charity house that supports gay and lgbt community. We are holding a gay pride parade and would love if you could join and support the cause. The-" A sharp exhale cut me off, and I braced myself for the verbal assault.

"Comment avez-vous eu ce numéro? Quoi? Gay?"

"Oui-" I didn't get to reply or assess his words. The line cut off abruptly from the other end, and I stared at the phone with scorn.

Brandon muffled his laughter, and even Francis tried to mask his laughing with a cough. I glared at them, huffing, and sitting back on the bed. My sour expression sobered them up, but I knew just a trigger from me and they would burst out in laughter.

"So how did it go?" Brandon asked with effort. His eyes twinkled in amusement, his expression dripping with the trademark 'I told you so'.

Well, he didn't.

"It went well," I replied, tight-lipped.

"Then why did it end so fast?" He pursed his lips to control his laughter.

"We reached an agreement. He is against it."

"That's surprising," Brandon taunted, and I stopped myself from giving a roundhouse kick to his head. Not that I could get my feet that up, but the visual was satisfying.

"I'll leave then, there is nothing more we can do right now. There is also a competition to prepare for."

"Okay, tell us if you think of something useful," I said as Francis stood up, and we both saw him out of the door. We both settled back on the couch, nothing more to do.

"Do you want to go out for lunch?" Brandon asked, his voice not above a whisper.

"Huh?" I asked, not quite catching what he said.

"Lunch. Do you want to go out?" He didn't look at me.

I smirked. "Is that a date?"

"We are just going out for lunch," he explained, not meeting my eyes.

"So it's not a date?"

"I didn't say that!" He whipped around to face me.

"So it's a date." I tilted my head, challenging him. There was no way he could get out of this one without admitting that.

"It's just us going out for lu-"

I exhaled, exasperated. "Fine, I am not coming. And I think I'll go shift in Bea's room. There is much more sun-"

Brandon shut me up by pressing his lips to mine. He pulled away all too soon, and I leaned forward unable to let the warmth go.

"It's a date. You really make me work for it, huh?" Brandon mumbled, flicking my forehead with his finger.

"I was going to make you beg. But this is much sweeter." I winked, standing up before we wasted away the afternoon holed up in the hotel room. Again.

***

"Are you sure we are not lost?" I asked for the seventh time, and Brandon shook his head, marching forward. He was faster than me, and I had to keep running short bouts to catch up with him.

"The lady told me it's just around the corner. Trust me," he said, taking my hand, and pulling me alongside him.

"But the lady spoke in Malay, how did you understand what she said?"

"Intuition and hand talk." He shrugged.

"Intuition, my foot," I mumbled, taking another turn in the alleyway. It was still bright outside, so it wasn't like we were lost. But the amount of walking had me whining.

"There it is!" Brandon pointed, and I adjusted my slim bag, looking at it.

A small cluster of huts were joined to build one long restaurant. The air was filled with the smell of spices and thick aroma wafting from the place, watering my mouth as we walked towards them. People of all age and nationality roamed around, enjoying the rich cultural hub of the area. It looked like a secret heritage village, stacked away from the public eye.

He stopped outside the door of a secluded restaurant, its red board flashing Chinese characters which I didn't understand. He slid the wooden door open, and we were at once enveloped in the earthy steaming atmosphere of the small restaurant. From what it looked like, it was a traditional yet a homely type of place. People sat in quiet corners, and most of them were locals of Singapore.

The decision to visit such an authentic place instead of the next burger chain seemed so perfect now. A lady greeted us, her mouth opening widely upon noticing us. She wore a beautiful floral printed shirt with wide legged pants, and I made a note to pick one for mother. Her small frame led us to one of the seats, handing us the menus before getting water for us. A few people glanced at us curiously, and I realised it was not that common for foreigners to visit this place.

Relief filled me when I noticed that at least the menu was in English. Though, a few dishes names made me question if we were in the right place or not.

"Happy?" Brandon smirked, pleased with his find.

I couldn't take this small satisfaction away from him, so I nodded, giving him a crooked grin. "If we hadn't found the place in the next ten minutes, I would have probably run away."

"I would have caught you right away," he joked, and I pouted. But there was no denying my un-athletic abilities.

The lady came back with some side dishes and I asked her for guidance. "What's the special dish you have? I have tried little of this cuisine."

We were given a lot of local food to eat in the hotel when it was buffet time. But I knew that there would be a mountain of difference in that food and this.

"You should try Hainanese chicken rice, national dish of Singapore. The chicken here is fresh and the best," she told us, and I deliberated.

"Also our specialty is Katong Laksa." My look was enough for her to understand that I understood nothing, so she explained the recipe. "It's a spicy broth with coconut milk and noodles. We add dried shrimps, prawns, and fish cakes."

It didn't sound that intimidating after that. I had grown up eating a lot of seafood, so it sounded interesting and I wanted to see how coconut milk could be used in a savoury dish.

"What do you think? Want to try it?" I asked Brandon, and he nodded. Satisfied, I placed the order. "We'll have one of both."

The lady took the menu away, and I nibbled on the pickled sides they had laid on the table for us.

"Can you handle spicy food?" Brandon eyed me eating the pickles, rasping his eyebrows.

"Me? I can win a chilli eating competition." I joked.

Brandon raised his eyebrows, an all-knowing smile plastered on his face. "A chilli competition you say?"

Uh-oh.

"Yeah." I gulped.

He put up a flyer lying down on the table and I went over the words.

World's Spiciest Chillies! Seven levels in twenty minutes and your order is free!

"No, no, no..." I whispered, my luck couldn't be that rotten. There had to be a competition like this when I just joked about winning one.

"So what do you think? You can win it?" He was testing me, I knew he was.

"Yes, thank you very much." I snatched the flyer from his hand and called for the lady. Brandon gave me a surprised look, not believing that I would go for it.

She came soon enough, hot bowls of steaming soup noodles and rice with her. Her eyes landed on the flyer in my hand, and I took the chance.

"Can I play this game?"

Brandon put his hand around mine; looking flustered, but I ignored him.

"Yes. But are you sure?" she asked me in a concerned voice. But the fleeting look towards Brandon was enough for my resolve.

"I am."

"Okay, after you eat." She motioned with her hands, and I nodded.

"Why did you do that? I was joking!" Brandon whispered as soon as she went away. He kept looking at me as he put a generous amount of rice and chicken on my plate.

"Don't worry," I reassured him, pouring the Laska into my soup bowl and then his.

"Can you really handle the chillies?"

"Of course."

Could I?

"If I win what are you going to give me?" I slurped on the chewy soup and Brandon took his time before answering.

"I'll buy you dessert for a month from the ice cream parlour near the school hostel," he wagered. Wait, a month of free ice cream if I win this? Hell yeah.

"You don't think I'll win, do you?" I asked, narrowing my eyes, and he shrugged.

"What will you do if you lose?"

"I'll pay the bill," I answered. He grinned at that, whistling softly to taunt me.

Fifteen minutes later I was quarter way full, so I stopped eating. Brandon cheekily took the rest of the food and shoved it in his mouth.

"Here are the chillies," the lady spoke, putting a long plate of several types of chilli in front of me. "There are seven levels, starting from here to here."

"I have to eat all of them?" There were three-four of each type, and I sweated under the amount I would have to eat.

"Eat two each till five levels. Then eat one chilli each for sixth and seventh level. You can have water, but no sweets." She put a water jar and a glass in front of me, and I gulped. That was twelve chillies.

The cluster of people in the restaurant had their attention on me, enjoying the spectacle. I noticed two foreigners enter the restaurant as well and even they stopped to watch the