Way to go, Ty, the only thing you were responsible for, you messed it up before you even started!

I crouched down, hiding my face behind my hands and under the table before he could notice me. Blood pumped into my ears, and I hyperventilated. The sole purpose of hiding was to avoid his attention. But this probably had the opposite effect if I could go by the curious stares and glances I was receiving.

My lips swelled as my teeth bit into them, and I kicked the table in frustration. Pain shot up my leg and I hissed in a breath. This time biting my lip for a different reason, enduring the sweet pain as a punishment for the mess I'd made.

"Shit," Brandon muttered, elongating the word to show his astonishment. I stilled, stopping my funny I-broke-my-toe dance.

"I know." I gritted my teeth, not having the courage to face anyone. Alard might not have noticed me this time, but it would happen sooner or later. Thinking this was the time to say my last words, I blurted, "Tell mom I really love her. And you too, take care of yourself."

"The world is not going to end. Stop being dramatic and look up," he said, poking my head to call me.

I rolled my eyes and did as he said. Expecting everyone's eyes on me, it was a pleasant surprise when that didn't happen. Brandon shook his head, muffling his laughter. I gave him a shy smile, and he returned it with his all-knowing one. Putting my hair behind my ears, I kept my chin up. Alard wasn't looking at me anymore, which was a relief, but someone else held his attention.

"Bella looks like she'll murder someone."

"By that someone you mean Alard." I said, frowning. Concern etched over Brandon's and my face, hoping that Bella won't do anything rash.

Alard's expression was unreadable behind those sunglasses. I saw Bella hesitate, but he turned away as soon as she tried to take a step forward. Her face twisted, but the camera wasn't focused on them as they announced the task today.

Oh right, the task!

"--make a new dish. The winning dish will be added to the menu of the twenty leading chains of Alard's restaurants." I caught it just in time. My stomach fluttered at the prize. Brandon and I shared a look, and I knew I would have to be the one to come up with a decent idea.

"The five worst dishes will go into the elimination round. Three will be eliminated," Tony said, giving a sympathetic smile. Which, I had to squint a lot to see under the sun and the respectable distance. Speakers did a decent job carrying his voice though.

"And it's with regret I have to inform you that Bella won't be participating in this round because her partner is ill."

"Such a pity, isn't it?" Tony remarked, turning towards Alard.

"But she'll be promoted to the next round by using her safety pin," Mark announced, all smiles. Bella stepped forward, waving her safety pin in her hand and putting it on her apron.

"We hope that Giulia gets well soon." Tony shook her hand and pointed towards a stool a few meters away from their table. Bella sat down gingerly, her face strained towards her father.

"Are you disappointed Mr. Rousell? Not being able to judge your daughter's baking?" Allard laughed at the question, walking towards Bella and slapping her back in the most comical manner.

"It turned out for well," he spoke in a deep gruff voice, "Hope your friend is all right."

Bella nodded, giving him a tight lipped smile.

"We wish so too," Mark added, turning towards us, he continued, "So everyone, you have one hour and thirty minutes to come up with a dish that can impress him. Best of luck everyone, your time starts now!"

My spine straightened as soon as the buzzer sounded. Brandon was on his toes as I rattled off the things we needed and what I had planned.

"Soup? We are making soup?" Brandon asked, incredulous and confused.

I picked up a bunch of blueberries, taking a small one out to taste the sweetness. "We are not actually making a soup, baby," I said, as I swallowed, satisfied with the taste.

"It's more like a blueberry puree or sauce. We will caramelize it and then bring it to a boil. But we have to do it fast if we want to serve a cooled up blueberry soup." I stopped, when I noticed that Brandon was still four steps behind, standing at the same place as before. "Hello?"

His head snapped back at me, blinking as if he had just noticed that I had walked forward. He closed the distance between us in a few strides and took the basket full of ingredients from me. "I'll take these," he breathed out, surprising me, and ran back to our working area from the small outdoor pantry.

Picking up a few more necessary ingredients, I joined him to find the basket empty and every other item in place, ready to cook. "Do you have fever?" I placed my hand on his forehead, joking.

Instead of replying, he moved away and put the remaining ingredients in their rightful place. I smiled to myself, liking his no-joke attitude this time round. God knows if we wanted to stay in this competition we needed to get more serious.

Not able to help myself, my mind wandered back to home and what all would be happening there right now. Today was the first day back to school after spring break and for the third time round I would miss it.

After a long talk with mother yesterday, I learnt that Liam, Seth and Leo were back to their hostel dorms. Brandon would have been too. I sneaked a glance at him, stirring the hot sugar mixture on the heating pan with the right hand.

For a second my heart skipped a beat as the realness of the situation hit me. He was here, in front of me, cutting blueberries nonetheless. His attention was on the small fruit, slicing them with precision and delicacy. He noticed my stare, yet I couldn't stop staring. He raised an eyebrow and pointed to the pan, I snapped my head back. I saw the mixture simmer and turned the stove off in time to save the buttermilk and heavy cream mix from burning.

To double up the flustered moment, Alard was now standing before me.

"Sir," I squeaked out. My heart sent prayers to God to not let him recognize me. What were the odds that a foreign girl who threw up on him in a foreign country would be standing as a contestant in the event he would judge? Small, right?

"You." That's all he said for me to know my place. His face turned expressions, from a frowned forehead, to the raised eyebrows. He even tilted his head to get a few angles of my face. All the while I shifted on my foot, wiping my palms on the sides on my apron and trying to hide my face behind my hair.

"I'm-" I started after the long pause, but he raised his hand to stop me. From the corners of my eyes I saw Brandon straighten up.

Alard leaned closer and for a moment my heart leaped out of my chest, thinking he would snap. But he put his index and middle finger together, beckoning me forward with their motion. I swallowed and followed his instruction with my unwilling body. He tilted his head toward my ear, his breath fanning my hair. My stomach twisted in anticipation of his words. "Do I know you?"

I couldn't believe my luck.

My shoulders slumped down in relief, and I took my time denying him. "No, sorry, it's the first time we have met," I spoke smoothly, giving him my best smile, regaining my original posture to look more confident.

"Hm, such a pity," he said, his eyes flicking over to my red curls and then back. I knew if there was one distinct feature about me, then it was my hair. Even though I had met him yesterday, it was possible that in the haze of vomit and hurry he might not have gotten a good look of my face. But that couldn't be said about my hair.

After a few seconds of observation and much scrutiny, he moved on to the next working table. With a lighter chest and a big exhale I gave a wink to Brandon. He made a face that he was impressed, but then nodded towards the abandoned pan. I got his message and went on with adding gelatine to the hot buttermilk mixture.

Time was on our side as I poured the blackberries, zest, orange and lemon mix in the blender to make soup. Straining it in one go, the only thing left was to let the custard set in the container. I was confident with the dish today, having made it couple of times in my cooking classes at school before. If Bea had been here, she would have loved it. I made a mental note to pack some up for her later. Everyone was cool with how we finished up the rest of the dishes. So convincing them to let me take my dish wouldn't be a problem.

Time was up, and so were Brandon and I from the few non-conversational nerve-wrecking fifteen minutes of free time. The good thing about waiting was that it gave time for the blueberry soup to get to the right temperature of cool and for the buttermilk custard to maintain its round mould shape.

"What do we have here?" Alard addressed me, his eyes not leaving my face as if he was still trying to put where he had seen me before. Brandon nudged for me to start speaking, and I did. Standing in front of the judges table had its own thrill and I let my instinct do the talking.

"It's Irish Blackberry Soup with Buttermilk Custard," I said, glancing at our dish. The dollop of custard nestled between the puree of the blueberry puree, a blueberry on top of it with a small mint leaf. The color contrasted well, and the green brought a unique freshness to it. We had four identical copies for each judge, and Brandon and I were satisfied with our presentation.

"Irish?" Alard raised his eyebrows. "What do you think, Miss-"

"Anderson," I supplied.

"Anderson. How will an Irish recipe fare in a French restaurant?" Blood pumped hot in my veins and the other judges kept silent.

"It will do well, sir." My voice was throaty, and I cleared it to make me sound more confident. He raised an eyebrow, showing how impressed he was with my answer. I blushed at his sarcastic expression, determined to wipe it off his face.

Think, think, think! I ordered myself. I remembered reading about the France and blueberries, if only I could get it right.

"Blueberries are abundant in France, and that is why it would be a great strategic addition in the menu," I said, gauging his expression. Making sure that he was listening, I continued, "Availability of fresh and quality blueberries will not limit it to any seasons. It will also make it a very profitable dish. And the opportunity to try a different flavor amongst the French menu would be an attraction itself."

Brandon piped in, "The buttermilk custard gives a mouthful of creamy texture, complementing the blueberry soup with its sweet tart taste." I nodded in agreement, pleasantly surprised by his insightful comment. Then I remembered his calculated tasting when we were waiting and even the last time. I always took it as him fooling around or trying to tease me, but I never thought he might just want to know what the flavour was to describe it well.

"Hmm..." Alard grunted, savouring the flavour in his mouth. We weren't expecting much because up till now he had only answered in nods and grunts. But his dominating persona was enough for everyone to be on their toes and working to get a small nod of approval.

While the other judges gave us satisfactory response, my eyes still lingered on Alard, wondering why he was playing so hard to get. He could have just nodded and be done with it. But he remained aloof the whole time except for the first comment. I knew we would be dismissed soon, so I did it.

"Sir, do you like it?" I took the bold step, and asked him in the face.

Beside me, Brandon gave me a worried look. For a second, Alard was flustered but he regained his composure. I knew it was a gamble asking him this, but I couldn't stop my mouth from uttering those words. I needed to know if I had made a lasting impression on him to help Bella or not. But what if he outright said no? I thought I had made a huge mistake when he didn't say anything, but then the corners of his mouth twitched. I couldn't believe it, he was smiling?

Bella tensed sitting on the stool a few meters away and I felt the same. If she thought his smiling was something to be tensed about, then I was going with her opinion.

I knew we were taking too much time, but everyone was holding their breath, waiting for his answer. Unintentionally, I had created a tense moment with my question and only way out of it was Alard's answer.

"I... like it." With the close to inaudible words, he turned his face away. Everyone seemed to exhale at the same time. Brandon clapped my back, and I bit my cheeks from inside to stop from grinning ear to ear.

Bella wasn't silent though. She hooted once, and then clapped for me. The others followed behind her, and I knew half clapped just because of the courage I took in asking him in his opinion.

And just like that another round was over with Bella, Francis and I safe. Sarah won the chance to get her dish featured in Alard's restaurants, and she promised me a treat to celebrate the win. I was content to be considered as one of the top dishes for the day, and didn't mind not winning the big prize.

"Can I get a container?" I asked the pantry staff, and she quickly handed me one, going back to restocking it for the elimination round.

"You're taking it for Bea?" Brandon asked, and I nodded. I put the custard inside one compartment and filled the rest with the blueberry soup. "So what do we do now?"

"Go down to the beach?" I suggested, keeping the container with my belongings. "I heard that's where everyone except the one's in the elimination round is going."

"Sure! How about surfing?" His eyes lit up at the suggestion and I laughed.

"You know I am not any good at it. Let's do the surfing back home and enjoy the beach for now? I don't have change of clothes," I pleaded, and he gave me a mischievous stare.

"We're having a volley match on the beach!" A tall boy shouted out, and I recognised him as Henry from before.

"You want to go for it?" Brandon turned, hopeful.

I grinned and shouted, "Only if we are on the same team!" I ran, my feet kicking the sand behind me.

"Why are you running?" he shouted as the wind whipped on our faces.

"Last one to the beach buys the ice-cream!" I shouted back, kicking harder on the sand. Being born and bred on a coastal region, I ran easily on the resisting sand. Just as I thought I was winning, Brandon whisked past me and towards the shore. "Hey!"

I skidded to a halt a few paces before him, my hands on my knees as I breathed. "I won," he teased, his back to the beach. My eyes caught Bella's who was sneaking behind him across the shore. She put a finger to her lips asking me to keep quiet. I noticed that she had borrowed a small bucket from the couple of kids playing on the beach.

Brandon was clueless as she filled the bucket with water and sneaked towards him. I counted down to one with her, Brandon giving me a strange look. At one she lifted the bucket and dumped the contents on his head.

Water splashed down over his head, and he jumped forward. Laughter erupted out from everyone around us as Brandon pushed his soaking wet hair away from his face and glared at Bella.

"She told me to do it!" Bella shouted, pointing towards me. I gasped as Brandon made me the target of his glare. My laughter died down in my throat when he took two big steps towards me.

"Do you want to hug me?" He laughed in a scary manner, opening his drenched arms. Water dripped down from him, and I screamed when he gestured to pick me up.

"No, no, please! I swear I didn't ask her to do it, I swear!" I shouted, running away when he didn't hear me. After two steps he was on me, holding me close with his wet body. My hands flailed around trying to get away but the deed was done. The back of my dress was wet and soaked through. It was my turn to be angry.

"Brandon! Put me down!" He did as I punched him, his laughter drowning down my angry words.

"Sorry! Sorry," he said, holding my fists in his hands, and trying to still me. "Let's go play beach volleyball."

The teams were decided. Notable members in my team were Bella, Brandon, Henry, me and a few others. Roger and my newfound acquaintances-- Kate and her friends was our opponent. The animosity between the teams was apparent. Kate had not yet forgotten about the morning's incident and neither had I. Wasn't this the perfect opportunity to battle it out?

"Losing team goes dunking in the sea!" I called out, and cheers went up from the remaining contestants. Francis, Sarah, and the rest sat there watching the match. "Agreed?"

Everyone nodded, excited about the punishment the losing team will have. "But what if we lose?" Brandon whispered.

"Well, we both are already wet in that case." I winked at him, taking the ball from him and passing it on to Bella. "You serve, we won the toss."

Bella took the ball, walking confidently on the sand barefoot. I followed her suit, kicking off my sandals, and placing it beside her heels.

"Start!" Francis whistled, and the match began.

Bella served, hitting the volleyball with the perfect speed and strength. Kate received the ball, and I found it ironical that all of us could play this sport. My eyes were on the ball as I bounced it while Brandon passed it back towards them. The ball swivelled past them, hitting the ground.

"Point one!" Francis called out, and I jumped up and down, clapping my hands with Bella. A small crowd of locals had gathered around us and even some of the extra crew members.

Two sets later and both the teams winning one set each; I gulped down the water given to me by Sarah. Half of it dribbled down under my chest and I tried to keep the fabric away from sticking to the skin. Brandon took the bottle, having abandoned his shirt long way back. He gulped down the water and as if I had x-ray eyes, I could practically see the way water travelled down his throat.

"Stop ogling your boyfriend and concentrate on the game. I would hate to see this dress ruined," Bella joked, having a sip of water herself.

I blushed at being caught ogling him, again. Though, I caught many ogling Roger. I guess there was something about big muscled man half-naked in public. Poor girls didn't know that he didn't swing that way.

"Ready? Set. Start!" I couldn't believe we had been playing for this long. After losing the first set, it was a relief to win the second one. But another set more and we could win.

"I'll take it!" Henry and I said at the same time, and collided, a mess on the sand. Brandon ran to my side, brushing off the sand from my dress and checking if I was all right. The other team rejoiced, scoring another point.

"I'll take this side, you go back," Brandon mumbled, his eyes shooting lasers towards Henry. I gave him an apologetic smile and did as Brandon asked. No point in having him worry about me all the time and lose this game. I had rather handle this situation then take a dip in the evening sea.

But Roger and Kate proved to be strong players, because before we knew it they were winning rallies over rallies. We sweated, threw and received, but lost to a score of fifteen is to twelve.

"Dunk, dunk, dunk!" The crowd hooted and shouted at the losing team-us, to take a dip in the sea. Everyone sighed, not willing to be the spoilsport.