It was an unbearably hot afternoon at Merlion Park, the kind of sun that dared even the boldest SPF to try its luck. Amid the buzz of tourists snapping selfies and hawker center aromas wafting temptingly through the air, unabashed and focused stood Jade Tan—a young, unflappable freelance photographer with a love for catching candid shots and coffee strong enough to raise the dead.
She was kneeling by the edge of the promenade, adjusting her lens for the perfect angle of the Merlion spurting a mighty arc into Marina Bay, when an unexpected voice rang out beside her.
"Is that thing actually meant to look majestic, or is it just perpetually sneezing into the sea?"
She turned, a little caught off guard, to find a tall, undeniably attractive European man with tousled hair, ironic sunglasses, and an accent dipped in olive oil. His smile was equal parts unrepentant and charming, the kind that made you wonder if he moonlighted as a perfume ad.
"I suppose it depends on how hard you squint," Jade said, flashing a smirk.
They struck up a conversation that danced between playful banter and uncanny flirtation. He complimented her eye for angles, asked about her work, even offered to model—shirt unbuttoned “for authenticity,” he claimed.
Jade didn’t mind. He was funny, unpretentious, and had a wit that matched her dry sarcasm. Until, quite suddenly, a woman emerged from the nearby restroom, looped her arm around him and kissed him full on the mouth.
“This is my wife, Anya,” he said, with a sheepish chuckle.
Jade blinked. “Unbelievable.”
The woman gave her a once-over and said something in Greek that Jade was unwilling to interpret too kindly. The couple sauntered off, leaving her feeling unjustly bamboozled.
She shook her head and muttered, “Well, that’s one for the ‘Do Not Date’ travel blog.”
Just then, another voice called out. “Excuse me, miss? Do you know how to get to Fullerton Bay from here?”
She turned to find a local guy, probably late twenties, in a linen shirt that looked slightly too ironed to be accidental.
“Do you not have Google Maps?” Jade asked, arching a brow.
He looked mock-offended. “That’s unnecessary. I’m just trying to support local talent. I figured a photographer might also be a part-time tour guide.”
She squinted at him. “That’s the weakest pretext I’ve heard today.”
He grinned. “Ah, so I’m not the first? How unfortunate.”
There was something disarmingly honest about him. No fake accent, no cologne that tried too hard. Just the easy charm of someone who knew he’d been caught and had decided to own it with style.
“Alright, Tour Guy,” she said, lowering her camera. “You can buy me an iced teh tarik if you’re serious about walking in this heat.”
“Deal,” he said. “But only if you tell me your most unfiltered opinion of that sneezing lion.”
They laughed and strolled toward the nearest café, steps in sync and conversation effortlessly buoyant. Jade glanced at him sideways and thought, maybe… just maybe, love didn’t always show up with warning signs and slow-motion movie music.
Sometimes, it was just a guy with a lame excuse and an excellent sense of timing.
As they reached the café, he opened the door for her.
As they reached the café, he opened the door for her.
“So,” he said, “What do I have to do to get the next tour?”
She smiled, her heart just a little lighter. “That, my friend, is undecided… for now.”
And somewhere between the fizz of their laughter and the hiss of the barista’s steam wand, the air was thick with uncertain, thrilling possibilities.
Chapter 2: Uncharted Waters
Two weeks later, Jade found herself once again at Merlion Park—not for work this time, but on a date.
Well… not officially.
“He still hasn’t called it a date,” she muttered to herself, adjusting her sling bag and squinting into the golden haze of the early evening.
It was 6:07 PM. He was seven minutes late, which was unforgivable by her punctuality standards, but just shy of truly offensive.
“Sorry!” a familiar voice called out behind her. “Blame the Circle Line for being uncooperative today.”
She turned to see him—Lucas, the not-so-lost local from two weeks ago—jogging toward her with a sheepish smile and two iced kopi in hand. He handed her one like a peace offering.
“I was hoping caffeine would be enough to earn unconditional forgiveness.”
She took the drink with a smirk. “Only if you upgraded to kopi gao.”
“I did,” he said with a dramatic bow. “I’m not uninformed.”
They wandered along the waterfront, chatting about everything and nothing—the state of public transport, the latest indie photo exhibit, his inexplicable hatred for coriander.
Jade was enjoying herself in a way that was almost… unsettling. She wasn’t used to comfort feeling this easy. She was used to dodging weird DMs, dodgier men, and diving into freelance gigs with the kind of passion usually reserved for people on reality cooking shows.
“So,” Lucas said, pausing at the railing to look out over the bay, “I’ve been meaning to ask…”
Jade’s heart did that thing it rarely did—uncharacteristically skipped a beat. “Yes?”
“Would you be completely unopposed to letting me photograph you sometime?”
She blinked. “You want to take my photo?”
“You photograph everyone else. Feels only fair you’re in front of the lens for once. Besides, I think you’d like how I frame you.”
She tilted her head. “Are you flirting or recruiting?”
“Why not both?” he said with a grin that was far too confident for its own good.
She laughed, shook her head, and took a sip of her kopi.
“Fine,” she said. “But I pick the location. And I will judge your lighting choices.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
As the last rays of sunlight slipped behind Marina Bay Sands, and the Merlion continued its eternal sneeze into the sea, Jade felt something stir in her chest. Something unfamiliar, a bit unnerving, but not at all unwelcome. Maybe this was the start of something.
Maybe not. But for once, she was unworried about where it might lead.
Maybe not. But for once, she was unworried about where it might lead.
... to be continued
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