Jessica vs. The Jerk

14. Eat, pray, love

'Should I change my trousers, too?' I give a startled gasp when Jonah opens my door. He's wearing a dark green polo shirt with a yellow collar and two V-shaped stripes on the front. It takes a lot of willpower not to let my eyes linger anywhere for too long.

'You'll be fine,' I reply drily. 'My turn. Guard the door, please.'

Jonah steps away and shuts the door, turning around to lean with his back against the window. I'm grateful for the dark tint. I always wear a singlet under my white school blouse, so it's not like I have to get totally undressed, but I hurry anyway. You never know when your car might catch on fire and you have to run out with nothing but the clothes on your back. I have a spare t-shirt, a pair of denim shorts, and emergency ballet flats that fold up and take almost no room in my bag -- a gift from Renie after her last trip abroad. They won't survive a flood, but it's this or my school shoes, and I have to face the fact that I'm trying to impress a boy. I thank the fashion gods that my school cardigan matches my outfit. I just hope my sock marks aren't too obvious.

I grab my wallet and phone from my bag and tap the window to let Jonah know I'm ready. I feel a bit self-conscious when he opens the door again. This isn't my most attractive outfit. It's my period emergency slash impromptu after-school mall outing outfit, and none of it is designed to attract boys. I hop out of the car without meeting Jonah's eyes.

He locks the doors. 'Where to?'

'Church.' I forestall his objection. 'Trust me.'

I lean back to peer behind Jonah as we start walking, and he looks at me with a surprised expression. 'Did you just check out my ass?'

'No!' I step away from him.

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. 'You're a stalker and a perv.'

I give him a withering look. 'If that's an iPhone in your back pocket, you should probably keep it somewhere else.'

He gives me a smile as if to say, Good excuse, but I'm not buying it, but he reaches behind him and transfers his phone -- yes, an iPhone -- to his front pocket.

And okay, despite the unflattering cut of our school uniform, it's clear that he has a great butt. I'm a prude, but I'm not dead.

I lead Jonah on a meandering walk to the church. I can tell he feels out of place because he stays close to me and I sense him tensing up whenever we pass by a crowd of people. I try to see my city from his eyes, but I've never been to Australia so it's difficult to get a sense of what he feels.

The smell of pork cooked over coals is like a beacon and we're not the only ones hurrying to get in line before the after-work crowd arrives. A block away from the church gates, makeshift stalls selling lanterns in every color imaginable wink at us with Christmas cheer.

'This street is already brighter than all of Sydney during Christmas.' Jonah looks fascinated by the merchandise, so we linger for a few minutes. Stall owners inundate us with their sales pitches, and I can tell Jonah feels overwhelmed by the attention. I hover at his side in an effort to deter any pickpockets -- that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

'Wait 'til you taste the food,' I promise, touching his arm gingerly to let him know it's time to keep moving. I get a brief impression of his biceps but I don't dare let my fingers linger more than absolutely necessary.

When I crave old-fashioned street food, I come to Santa Rosa Church, where the vendors are still largely made up of family-run stalls too small -- or too inexperienced -- to become fully commercialized. Misa de Gallo doesn't start for another week, but many of the stalls are already up and running. By the time the first dawn Mass begins, the number of stalls in the area will have doubled. Fitting so many people in such a confined space is Manila's special brand of magic. Potential theft aside, I love the chaos of street markets.