Chapter 6

We run into the building, it used to be a tannery or something, back in the days, it's been converted into apartments and commercial spaces. There's the best coffee shop just downstairs from me, and a bar that plays great music. Plus, it's a ten-minute walk from the bookstore where I work part-time. I lead the way upstairs and welcome him into the flat, my heart bursting at the thought Lin DaoShi is at my home. Silly, really, he's been living at my place for the past week, hasn't he?

"Nice," he says, and marches inside, stops in the hallway.

I run into him, my whole body stiffening just from being this close to this man. I need to get a hold on myself, he's just a man.

"Sorry," I say, and side-step him. "Do you like it?"

"Did you decorate?"

What's his fucking obsession with whether I decorated or not? I did, this time. "It's a tiny place, see? Has the tiniest toilet here." I open the door to a cabinet-like space hidden behind black walls, and wonder what goes through my mind to show him the bloody toilet. I mean, the toilet, really? What's wrong with me? Maybe I just want to show it off, as it looks really great.

It was stupid fun, decorating this place. Sher, JunJie, Leandra and her husband Riley came over to help me paint. Riley works in the construction business, so he lent a hand with certain projects. Like the floor to ceiling massive wardrobes here in the hallway. I open one and fish a clean towel, hand it to Lin DaoShi.

"Your hair's soaked," I explain, and he smiles. "I'll just grab the car keys."

"Lots of light," he says, while furiously rubbing his scalp with the towel. "I love this." He takes a step further inside. Pauses just at the mouth of the living-room. This is an open plan studio, so the light reaches everywhere except both bathrooms. There's one in the bedroom, too, which is placed on a mezzanine. "The way the rain runs over those windows, it really is beautiful."

I stand behind him and gaze at the wide, tall windows, one of which opens to a tiny balcony. The skies outside are a pale hue of grey, completely overcast, and yet, the sight is far from sombre. Like him, I think; Lin DaoShi's like a rainy day, moody and outwardly cold, but possessed of a beauty that goes beyond the surface. There are depths to his eyes the same as those of the dark clouds above, and the chill of the cold rain reflects on his traces, but then he smiles - the occasional burst of sunlight breaking through the overcast skies, flooding the world with a rare beam of warmth.

"Yeah, I fell in love with it because of the light. There's a skylight in the bedroom that is just to die for." He turns round and meets my eyes, once again I fail to read what's behind his. "Ready to go?"

Handing me the towel, Lin DaoShi walks off to the door. I throw the thing into the hamper, grab an umbrella from the rack, and we leave. The building has a garage, but the rent would've skyrocketed, so I just park on the street. It's not like I use the car a lot, not when I live this close to my work place. We rush down the stairs, he's still holding on to that bag full of apples, and I can feel his eyes on me. Wonder what he's thinking, what he makes of me, wonder if he likes me at all. I know I shouldn't let my mind wander there, he's straight. Get a grip, Jai, I tell myself, the man's straight. But he's just too damn hot, isn't he?

The car isn't parked far, but I open the umbrella and hold it over the two of us, instinctively inching closer, so I keep him off the rain. He meets my eyes again, smiles, and boy, do I melt. But still smile back. I unlock the car before we even get there, and open the passenger's door for him, umbrella still held over his head. Only when he's safely tucked inside, do I take my place.

"So, you never answered," he says, as I start the car and manoeuvre it out of the parking slot - one hand on the back of his seat, so close to his shoulder I can feel his warmth, my body turned halfway round so I can look out of the back window. I search my head for what he means.

"Sorry?"

"The flat, did you decorate it yourself?"

I'm focused on driving, the streets are a bit cramped round here, and there's always cars double parked along them, at this hour. But my brain still registers, and once I leave the High Street, I relax.

"I did. It was so much fun, actually. Getting to choose every single piece, and how I wanted the place to look, it was... refreshing? No, that's not what I mean. It was a bit of a journey. Of self-discovery, you know? Turns out I'm not into stark, white interiors, after all."

"I can see that. So, green's your favourite colour, huh?"

My mouth slackens, how does he know that? "Yes, how can you tell?"

"Green walls?"

I laugh, take the first turn, leave the town behind, rain pelting the car. The old road is soaking wet, I drive carefully along it, visibility impaired by the gales. I hope it doesn't last, don't really fancy driving in the rain. Ah, who am I kidding, I love driving, no matter the weather. There are two things I really like doing, especially if I'm a bit stressed or on edge - driving and dancing.

"Lin DaoShi, you say that as if my walls look ugly."

He grins. "That's not what I meant. They look great, who'd have thought two-toned walls in dark green would ever look so good?" Our eyes meet, he nods reassuringly, I smile. "Call me DaoShi, please."

Why does my gut tighten, why does my heart lurch as he says that? I spot the house up ahead, and become melancholic. So much of my life took place in there, and not all was good. Come to think of it, most was bad. I have a lot of bad memories from that place, they're carved along the floorboards, the furniture, the very walls. There are tears soaking those rugs and pillows, there's blood running through every inch of that house, the blood of the dead.

My mother's in it, Allen as well. Even the boy I was at sixteen, when I met him; and the one I became one year later, when he first took me in his arms and kissed me until my lips were sore. I'm all over that place, ghosts of myself, pieces of my broken soul, the phantom of that eighteen-year-old who wore a black suit and a white shirt on his wedding day, the same he wore to his mother's funeral weeks later. The phantom of that very same young man, who was so afraid of doing something wrong he hardly dared breathe, in case he misplaced a heartbeat and fucked everything up. The phantom of my hopeless self, who could lie listless in bed for hours after Allen's funeral, where I donned that same suit yet again.

Wedding, funeral, funeral.

That suit went through every rough patch.

That's why I got rid of it as soon as I could.

"Jai, are you all right?" Lin DaoShi asks, and I blink, bringing myself back to the present.

A few silent tears run down my face, and shame invades me. The fuck am I doing, being this emotional in front of this man?

"I'm sorry, don't know what came over me." I guide the car up the driveway, bring it over to the side, and park it right by the kitchen's side door. "Here you are, all safe and sound from the rain."

He nearly looks disappointed at us already being here, and my stupid brain starts building up a plan to ask him out. Lunch, dinner, a drink, perhaps? As I'm about to speak, he opens the door, ready to exit.

"Want to come in? Or do you have to work? Actually, what is it you do?"

Did he just ask me in? Face coated in eagerness, I practically jump out of the car, fish my coat from the back, and follow him.

"I work at a bookstore," I say, and enter the kitchen where so many times I sat down to eat what Allen cooked for me over the weekends. He never did so on weekdays, but would treat me to very gourmet meals every Friday and Saturday, whether in or out of the house. Along a few bottles of really good wine. "Part-time. Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays, from eight am to four pm. It opens earlier on those days, to cater to the university students, and no one wants to do those early shifts, but I don't mind."

His eyes are still studying me, and once again I search for stains or rips on my clothes. Other than the mud on the joggers, there's nothing wrong. But he always makes me feel as if I'm wearing odd-paired socks, or something.

"Why did you stop dancing?"

Wow, talk about changing the subject. "I didn't, not quite."

"Did you attend dance school?"

"For a few years, yes. I left when Mum got sick, and then, just never went back."

"Why's that? Want some tea? I have green, jasmine, chrysanthemum."

What, no Oolong, no Ceylon? I'd kill for an English Breakfast, right now. Actually, I'd kill for a spot of lunch, but the thought of leaving just so I can stuff my face is suddenly very unappealing. I want to hang around him for as long as I can.

"Whatever you're having," I reply, and promptly sit myself on one of the kitchen stools, while watching him go about preparing tea like it's a ritual.