I stood on the balcony, my elbows pressed against the railing as I watched the sun descend behind the mountain. Yellow, orange, and pink streaks lit up the quickly darkening sky. I breathed in deeply, trying to memorise the smell of the warm, clean evening air.

Suddenly, my phone -- clasped tightly between by fingers -- bleeped. I nearly dropped it down to the ground out of shock. I swore under my breath. Frantically withdrawing my arms from the railing, I examined my phone. The screen announced a text from an unknown number.

Confused, I pressed Read. I stared at the screen, reading and rereading the text: Hi, Leena. It's Jason. The "Welcome to Java Lava!" Jason.

Grinning from ear to ear, I pressed Reply and typed a response carefully, checking for any embarrassing typos: Hi, Jason! I hope you didn't get in trouble at work today.

I pressed Send. With a few taps, Jason's phone number was successfully stored as a contact.

After leaving Java Lava, I had spent the rest of the day worrying that Jason would get in trouble for sitting with me in the café where he worked.

I sank to the cool tiled floor, jiggling my knees as I waited for a response.

Jason's reply arrived a few seconds later: No. Best shift ever. :)

I was grinning at the screen stupidly when it lit up with a call, the loud, frantic ringtone mirroring my heartbeat.

Jason is calling me!

My finger hovered over the Accept button. I pictured his gorgeous eyes, one hazel and the other grey, focused on his phone as he waited for me to answer his call. Hoping not to embarrass myself, I pressed the green button.

"Hello?" Jason called out, his deep voice trickling into my ears like honey.

"Hi," I answered.

"Hey," he said. "I wanted to ask you . . ."

"Yes?"

"Would you like to go out tomorrow? My shift ends at three --"

"Yes!" I gushed before he could finish his sentence.

"Great!" Jason laughed, the musical sound making me shiver. "How much of LA have you seen?"

"Not much, really," I admitted.

"Well, I have some really cool places to show you," he said with contagious excitement. "Can we meet at the café after three tomorrow?"

"Yes! Where are we going?" I asked, pressing the phone closer to my ear.

I could almost hear the mischievous smile in his voice when he said, "It's a surprise. I thought we could have a late lunch, too. Is that okay?"

"Sure," I agreed.

"So, see you tomorrow?"

"See you!"

After exchanging goodbyes, we hung up.

A squeal escaped my lips as I walked into the bedroom and threw myself onto the bed. Something hard and rectangular poked me in the thighs. Shifting around, I found that it was the romance novel that I had purchased from Athena's Used Books. Flipping onto my back, I attempted to read, but the words on the page swam and blurred out of focus as the curiosity consumed me.

Where is Jason taking me tomorrow? Griffith Park? The Hollywood Walk of Fame? The legendary Hollywood Sign?

I sighed, unable to focus on the book. I abandoned the paperback and gazed at the ceiling. I was lost in thought when I heard Claire calling my name from downstairs.

"Coming!" I shouted as I pulled the bedroom door open and hurried to the kitchen.

"Dinner is served," Claire announced, gesturing to the steaming dishes laid out on the dining table. "There's fruit custard in the freezer for dessert."

I gaped at the shiny table, laden with bowls of mashed potatoes, salad, spicy fried rice, and steamed vegetables.

"Oh, Claire, you needn't have cooked all this by yourself," I exclaimed in awe. "I feel bad for not helping!"

"Nonsense! I wanted us to eat a home-cooked dinner today," she smiled kindly. "Sit, let's eat."

I settled into a chair directly opposite to Claire, inhaling the inviting aroma of the food.

"So, uh," I began awkwardly, wondering how to announce my plans with Jason. "I have this friend who works in the Village. We planned to hang out tomorrow afternoon, and . . ."

"Of course!" she smiled, looking up from her plate. "I'll have lunch with my colleague."

I smiled gratefully.

"So, who is this friend?" she asked, her emerald eyes glinting with curiosity.

"His name is Jason Hunter," I smiled. "He works at the café, Java Lava."

"Oh?" she asked, smiling eagerly. "Is it a date?"

"No!" I exclaimed, flustered. "I mean, we're just friends."

"Right," Claire bit her lower lip as though she were trying to contain her laughter. "Where is he taking you?"

"I don't know yet," I admitted, my smile refusing to die down.

"I want you to be careful, Leena," Claire studied me dubiously. "Please text me before you leave the Village."

"Don't worry, I will," I assured her, swallowing the last of the creamy potatoes. "I'll ask Jason to drive me home by seven so that you can meet him here, okay?"

"Okay," she relented.

After Claire and I shared the last of the rice and vegetables, we stood to clear the plates. I thanked her profusely for the delicious dinner as I loaded the plates into the dishwasher.

"It was no trouble," she said, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. "I'll get the dessert out."

Claire set a sizeable bowl of custard on the marble counter top. Wisps of cold air emanated from all sides of the container.

"I was thinking we could watch a horror movie tonight," she suggested, filling two porcelain bowls with the cold dessert. "I've got a few DVDs."

"Yeah, of course!" I enthused, nodding excitedly.

Claire and I carried our bowls of custard -- topped with sliced bananas, kiwi, and strawberries -- to the living room. I turned off the lights and settled on the couch as Claire fiddled with the DVD player that stood beneath the large, sleek flat-screen TV. She sat next to me, holding a black remote control in one hand and her dessert bowl in the other.

Halfway through the movie, the two of us were leaning forward, our eyes glued to the screen.

"Don't split up, you idiots!" we yelled in unison, our laughter drowned out by the film's tense soundtrack.

I turned to look at Claire, her angular face illuminated in a silvery glow by the TV screen.

A twinge of sadness crept into me when I realised how much I would miss movie nights with her after my trip ended. A cold fear wiped the amused smile off my face.

Will Claire still want to see me, several years down the line?

She and my dad were studiously avoiding each other ever since the divorce. What if she decides to avoid me, too?

I thought back to all the times we had spent together, laughing and talking. I recollected the times that she had let me cry on her shoulder. I strained to remember the moments that Dad, Claire, and I had spent together as a family.

With a cringe, I recalled how angry Claire had been that my father grew increasingly distant from his family during the final year of their marriage. I had been very disappointed by that, too.

But that isn't reason enough to sever a beautiful relationship, surely?

It hadn't taken me long to discover how much Claire and Dad loved each other. I was so sure of their love that when I found out about their divorce, I was shocked beyond comprehension.

My brain whirred with frantic thoughts, diverting my focus from the horror movie. I tried to concentrate on the couple being tormented by a group of deranged teenagers, but two questions kept swirling in my mind:

Why did my father and Claire separate?

And more importantly, why won't they tell me why?