Back in the present, the group returned to their hotel. Mikael had Jordan's arm wrapped around his shoulder as he supported his friend towards the lift. Apparently, the latter fell victim on a drinking game with a woman who had a higher alcohol tolerance.
He dumped Jordan on the nearest bed before heading for the bathroom.
Cold water splattered on his face. Water droplets dripped down the side of his cheek and onto the sink. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, recalling the night's events. It had to be the alcohol's influence. Or maybe it was because they were sharing secrets...
… why else would he have shared his past with Eve?
.
.
.
.
.
After hearing his story, Eve fell at a loss for words.
Mikael neither pressured her for a reaction nor did he feel ashamed about what he just said. Years had gone by since those events. Despite what happened, he sent money every month to his mom's bank account. It was an anonymous transaction but she probably figured it out.
In return, he had blocked all means of communication.
Her words weighed much more than he wanted to admit.
Eve played with her empty glass of martini. She pressed her lips together. When she spoke, her voice came out soft and "What happened next?"
"Eventually, I called Luna about the offer," Mikael resumed the story. "I received a lot of good feedback from that one time I walked the runway. The best part about that moment was I didn't even do anything other than be myself. The same thing applied for the rest of the campaign."
"And so you fell in love with modelling?" Eve teased.
He shrugged. "I liked how different I could be with each photo. I learned a lot about myself."
It became addicting—the way he could forget about himself for a moment. He didn't have to talk nor did he have to exhaust himself to earn enough for his expenses. He studied about body language, angles that worked best, colors that suited him and many more. Each piece of clothing had been carefully made by its designer and they too had something to say.
Modelling opened his eyes to a bigger world.
And he owed it all to Luna Athon.
"If it's worth anything," Eve began to say, offering him a small smile. "You deserve every success you've received. You also deserve a lot more. I'm glad you found something you love to do."
Mikael chuckled and leaned in a little closer. "Thank you for sharing it with me."
She shoved his head away. "Please, don't do that. I don't want another scandal."
"I should really get myself a girl then," he joked. His phone suddenly weighed like a thousand pounds in his pocket. Profanities flooded his mind. He still had to engage in conversation like he promised Jordan. Just the thought of it increased his appetite for another bottle of beer.
Muttering under his breath, he pondered about an appropriate reply.
.
.
.
.
.
Mikael sat on his bed while drying his hair with a towel.
The clock on the wall stated that it was close to midnight. The sedative effects from the alcohol started to kick in. He stifled out a yawn. His eyelids were tempted to close but his hair was still damp. He forced them to stay open and stood up, deciding to use the hair dryer.
Jordan probably wouldn't wake up from the noise anyway.
Then, his phone screen lit up from the nightstand.
He reached over to grab it and peeked at the notification. The mysterious number had sent a reply. If Jordan was awake, he would probably be screaming at the course of events. Not to mention how he'd rub it in Mikael's face that it was only one message—unlike what most fangirls would do.
So far, the entire conversation fit into the phone screen.
.
```Unknown: Hey!```
```Unknown: Left me on read, huh? Not like I was going to bite you.```
```Unknown: How sure are you that I'm not someone you know?```
```Unknown: Alright, alright. I'll stop pestering you. Yeesh.```
```Mikael: People who know me are aware that I hate small talk.```
```Unknown: Well, well… is that a challenge for a long message? Because I can do that.```
.
Mikael frowned at the latest message.
.
```Mikael: Thank you for sharing your skills but they are unnecessary.```
```Unknown: HAHAHAHAHAHA. Although you probably won't ever talk to me again, thank you for this!```
.
"Although you probably won't talk to me again…" Mikael repeated out loud. He read the conversation several more times, searching for what was laughable and not finding it. The person had to be crazy. He should have never agreed to this.
.
```Mikael: What are you thanking me for?```
```Unknown: For making me laugh!```
```Mikael: You think I'm funny, do you?```
```Unknown: More like very a-mousse-ing.```
.
Mikael chucked his phone onto his bed and walked back to the bathroom. In the mirror, he found a deep scowl between his eyebrows. How many messages had he sent? Four? It should be enough to satisfy Jordan and the rest.
But something in the back of his mind said that wouldn't be the case.
No doubt they'd ridicule his behavior and call him out for being 'rude.'
"Oh, my head…!" Jordan groaned, waking Mikael up. The latter cursed in whispers before pushing himself up. He rolled onto his other side and checked on his stupid best friend. He didn't bother to change Jordan out of his clothes, only taking off his shoes.
"There's aspirin on the table," Mikael stated and checked his schedule on his phone.
The notification bar filled his lock screen. One message instantly stood out among the rest, its time showing it was sent at midnight. He resented how his eyes flickered towards it as soon as the screen lit up. That shouldn't become a habit.
.
```Unknown: Yo, why are you awake at this time? Don't stay up late, Mousse!```
.
Mikael considered sending a reply… then, dropped the idea.
It would only provoke the person to message more.
"Dude, why did you let me drink so much?" Jordan complained. He managed to sit upright and drank the glass of water that came with the medication. A vice-like rope seemed to squeeze his head. He did not look forward to the rest of the day.
"I was busy accompanying Ev—angeline like we told Cale we'd do," Mikael defended. He dropped on the floor and started his morning exercises with push ups. "You have no one to blame but yourself."
Jordan kicked a spot near his foot. "Since when did you become the responsible one?"
"Since I started bringing home the bacon*." Mikael smirked, knowing it would trigger him.
"No way in heaven, earth nor hell am I gonna be married to you."
The two boys eventually left their room for breakfast. Mikael walked ahead, his hands tucked inside his jacket pockets. He whistled loud enough for the entire hallway to hear. Behind him, Jordan maintained a slow but steady pace. The high notes of the whistle prompted him to be more irritable than he already felt.
Once he got better, Mikael would pay for that.
Eve stretched her arms when she got off the lift on the first floor. Cale typed away on his phone, addressing concerns by his other models that were left behind. The other elevator opened its doors to reveal Mikael and Jordan, reuniting the group.
"Jordan, you don't look so good," she commented.
Just the sight of him made her feel sick herself.
"I don't feel good at all, Evangeline," he confirmed, panting for breath. He rested his hand against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut. "I should have taken the stairs. Now, I have a headache AND nausea."
Mikael shook his head and copied the same tone. "If you had taken the stairs, you would have a headache AND a concussion."
"Ms. Reed?" A hotel staff said, making her presence known. She made eye contact with everyone but Jordan before she settled on Eve. "The manager would like to know if you want your flowers delivered to your room or do you want to get them on the front desk?"
Eve tilted her head sideways. "Flowers?"
"Yes, a delivery came for you."
"Did it come all the way from Maize City?" Cale joked, hiding his phone in his inner breast pocket. He looped his arm with Eve's and tugged her towards the front desk. "Can we take a look at them now? Then, you can take it up to our room."
"Of course." The hotel staff nodded, escorting them to the front desk.
Mikael followed behind. Jordan tried to catch the back of his collar but failed. He considered whether to go to the breakfast buffet by himself or join the group. After a second, he chose the latter—deciding that he'd rather be with people he trusted than a group of strangers.
On the desk was a large bouquet of pink roses and lilies. They were compressed together in a vase, ready for display. If Eve had to estimate, it probably reached almost 3 feet tall. It was grander than the bouquet she received along with her custom skates.
Giddiness overflowed Cale. Ambryan was missing his lover! He was sure of it!
"Does it have a card? Tell me it has a card…" he gushed, smelling a rose.
Mikael smacked his hand. "It's not yours. Don't mess with people's stuff before they could."
Cale stuck his tongue out. "Someday you have to learn that, in certain situations, what's more important is impressing close family and friends of the person you're wooing."
"If that's the case for this one, the flowers should be addressed to you, not Evangeline."
"Oh, stop being a party pooper! I'm not even breaking anything.'
While they bickered, Eve signed the delivery receipt and looked for the card. The flowers and leaves had buried it from sight. Vines and roses were embossed on the expensive parchment. A red wax seal served as the lock.
She took a whiff, not recognizing the faint scent.
Then, she unfolded the card.
```
To Evangeline,
Thank you for your time last night.
```