They found a pizza place nearby. In Los Angeles, there's no shortage of pizza joints—you could say the city is littered with them.
Non-chain pizza places, though, each had their own personality and signature dish: a broad outdoor patio, a chef who'd been in the kitchen for decades, some quirky interior design—competition was fierce in its own way.
This place, Pizza Place California, was known for its panini: soft bread on the outside, packed inside with fresh vegetables and a generous helping of roasted beef sirloin. One bite was pure satisfaction.
Then there were the Italian dumplings—stuffed to bursting with a rich cheese sauce, topped with chopped red cabbage. At first glance, they almost looked like ice cream.
The rest of the menu didn't disappoint either—pan-seared salmon, grilled jumbo scallops—dishes that broadened Felix's horizons as a northern boy who'd barely eaten any seafood before. The flavours were surprisingly good.
After the meal, Felix drove Rachel back to his apartment. She was as decisive as ever, announcing she was moving in right away.
"What's wrong with wanting to spend more time with my boyfriend? That's not allowed?"
"Of course it is. I'm just worried you'll get tired—your school's over 60 kilometres from here."
"I don't care. I want to." Rachel shook her head, lips curving in a small smile.
Felix couldn't help but run a hand through her hair. "Like a little puppy—hey, hey, don't bite me!"
Back at the apartment, Felix made up a bed for her—which really just meant putting out an extra pillow. As for the clothes in her small suitcase, Rachel unpacked them herself.
"This short dresser won't do. My clothes will get all creased. You'll have to get a tall wardrobe, a big one—trust me, I have a lot of clothes. Pots and pans we can leave alone, though. I don't cook, and you don't look like you do either. We'll just eat out—though it'll cost a bit more."
Watching her bustle around, Felix couldn't help feeling a bit stunned. So… they were living together now?
He was still processing that when Rachel's head suddenly popped into his chest.
"What is it? Done unpacking?"
She shook her head. "I just want to know—how much do you make a month?"
"Annual's a bit over eighty grand. Why?"
Rachel's eyes narrowed slightly, as if numbers were running through her head. "After tax, that's about forty-seven hundred a month, right? Rent's sixteen hundred, food a thousand, utilities two hundred, daily expenses and entertainment another thousand… You're left with nine hundred."
"That's still not bad." Felix raised a brow. "You keep track of money this closely?"
"I'm not your stereotypical clueless art student," Rachel said matter-of-factly. "I've taken economics classes."
"Fair enough."
She shot him a look. "Stereotype." Then she reached into her suitcase, pulled out a stack of bills, and handed it over.
"Here—forty-five hundred. From now on, I'll cover the household expenses. You save your salary."
Felix blinked. "Save for what?"
"To invest in a house," she said as casually as if she were talking about dinner.
"…Huh?"
"I might not be Asian, but I still think having our own home is essential." Rachel smiled. "We'll save together—it'll be enough."
In the morning she drove back to campus, and in the evening she came back again—never once tiring of the routine.
Felix was starting to feel a bit lost.
Was she… addicted? But he hadn't drugged her or anything.
Unable to figure it out, he decided to take her out on weekends. He was still on administrative leave—no shifts, just free time—and there was plenty to do around Los Angeles.
Not just the Asian night markets they'd mentioned before. On July 27th, there was the Long Beach Dragon Boat Festival, with traditional performances, acrobatics, dances, and martial arts.
They'd missed the lion and dragon dances last time, but this time they caught them as the opening show, and Rachel was over the moon. The performance quality was excellent—though no lion dancers balancing on poles, perhaps because setting up poles on the beach wasn't practical.
They also took a stroll along the beach but headed back quickly.
Beachwear meant swimsuits, and when Rachel stepped out in hers, a crowd of people turned to stare. Felix's face went speechless—he grabbed a towel, wrapped her up, and carried her back, earning a peal of delighted laughter from Rachel.
The Long Beach Convention Center was also hosting a horror convention, with hundreds of vendors, horror cosplay, screenings, innovative haunted houses, and fan discussions—drawing tens of thousands.
Felix and Rachel took one look from a distance, then bolted. The place was crawling with ghouls and monsters. Too much.
Since Rachel had missed out on the 626 Asian Night Market, they drove to Pomona to check out the 909 Night Market. It was chaotic and eclectic—there was everything.
The most memorable bit was a touring singer performing from the back of a truck. Quality aside, the atmosphere was high—couples were kissing everywhere.
In the kids' zone, children ran wild—American brats at their most unrestrained.
There were even stalls selling guns, and nobody seemed to care. Freedom in its purest form.
Felix's favourite was the tomahawk steak—slapped onto the grill with a heavy thud. Charred black on the outside, tender inside.
The only downside was the lack of marinade—it was pretty bland—until the vendor handed him a mountain of sauces and spice mixes. Any flavour you wanted, right there.
Good days never lasted long. A little over a week later, one evening—just after they'd finished an intense round of "battered bamboo in the rain"—Felix got a call from Linda, informing him that his administrative leave was over. He'd be back on duty the next morning.