It was a quiet Saturday afternoon when we finally saw each other again—after nearly a month of nothing but passing days and fleeting messages. School had taken over our lives like a tidal wave. Classes rushed in, obligations piled up, and the tryouts had just ended, stealing whatever free time we had left.
To my surprise, I was the first one chosen.
I had been certain the spot would go to Carlos or Raven. Carlos, though talented, had clearly been spending too much time with his airsoft team and not enough on the court. Raven, on the other hand, had his eyes locked on a much bigger prize—college. He wanted the perfect scholarship, the golden path, more than he wanted a position on the varsity team. So, he settled for second.
Today, I decided to try out a new gym. It wasn't far from home—perfect for squeezing in a quick workout before the upcoming games. But the regret came fast, bitter and cold, like sweat that doesn't dry. The showers were out of service. And today, of all days, I was meeting Lia.
I glanced at the time, heart racing a little. I could've stayed longer, pushed through one more rep, but all I could think about was heading home, washing the day off my skin, and finding clothes that didn't reek of metal and exhaustion.
Me:
Where are you?
I texted her while stuffing my gear back into my duffel, the silence of the locker room wrapping around me.
Lia:
Take your time. I'm still getting my nails done at the salon next door.
My fingers froze above my bag's zipper. She was already here?
I hadn't realized we were closer than I thought. The gym I had walked into was perched on the second floor of the same building. Right below, tucked cozily on the ground floor, was the café where we agreed to meet.
Convenient, yes. But not when you're drenched in sweat and your friend is downstairs getting her nails painted like a scene from a dream.
Me:
I'm upstairs. Gym.
Lia:
Oh! Then I'll see you at the café. Are you almost done? I'm just finishing up here too.
Me:
I'm thinking of heading home for a quick shower. I changed clothes, but, you know...
Lia:
Don't bother. It's not like I'm going to lick you or anything.
I groaned inwardly and shut my eyes tight, her message burning in my brain like an electric jolt. This girl… seriously.
She says things so casually, like she doesn't even realize how dangerously suggestive they sound. It's almost impossible to believe the type of guy she's into. Not that I'm saying a guy like him can't be into someone with a mouth like hers—but… actually, now that I think about it, maybe guys like that are even more perverted than the usual playboys. All quiet, polished... and hiding kinks behind well-ironed collars.
Maybe that's why she likes him. Maybe that's why she's like this.
I could still see her face clearly in my mind—Emilia, with her soft, dangerous smile and those wickedly sweet eyes that seemed to promise trouble. Ugh. Why was I even overthinking this?
Fine. I won't shower. Whatever. It's not like I care what she thinks of me. Not that I ever really do this to impress anyone—but today, I just don't feel like giving a damn. Normally, I'd shower out of basic decency, not to offend the air people breathe around me. But today? Let her deal with it. If she wants to play fire, she better know how to handle the heat.
I made my way downstairs to the café we agreed on. I paused just outside the glass door, pulled out the tiny bottle of emergency cologne I always kept in my bag, and gave myself a quick spray. Just enough to smell like I didn't walk through a battlefield.
Lia:
Leo. They don't have change for my thousand. Spot me five hundred, will you?
I groaned under my breath and let my fingers fly across the screen.
Me:
Fine. So? Am I coming in or what?
Lia:
Yes. You hand the money to the attendant, please. I don't want to ruin my nails.
I let out a breath that was half a sigh, half a muffled growl. Irritation simmered beneath my skin as I pushed myself to my feet and headed toward the nail salon she mentioned.
The bell above the door jingled softly as I stepped in. The place smelled like roses and acetone—clean, floral, and oddly feminine. There she was, sitting like royalty on the cushioned sofa, her fingers spread like delicate branches, each nail glistening under the salon's soft lights.
Her hands had always caught my eye. Long, graceful fingers—made longer by her obsession with perfect manicures. I doubted her nails had ever seen a day off from salons like this. It was her brand—glamorous down to her fingertips.
"Here," I told the attendant, placing the exact change on the counter with a low thud that somehow felt louder than it should've.
Lia walked over, a smug little smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Is he your friend, Miss Rivera?" the attendant asked with an amused tone.
Lia smirked, clearly entertained. "Wow. You're good."
The woman laughed, tossing her short curls over her shoulder. "I just know your type when it comes to boyfriends. That's how I figured he's just a friend."
Then she shot me a playful smile.
I gave her a short nod and murmured a quick thanks, doing my best to keep a straight face. Lia said her goodbyes with the ease of someone used to being admired, and we left the salon together.
As we walked toward the café, she trailed behind me with her hands still held up like precious art, careful not to smudge even a single detail of her freshly painted nails.
"Get the money from my bag," she said, tilting her chin toward the slouchy designer tote on her arm. "There's a thousand-peso bill in there. Use it to buy our food."
I clenched my jaw, patience running thinner than the breath between her words. "No need. I've got it covered," I replied, a bit sharper than intended.
"Why not? I'll pay you back once I settle my debt with you."
I didn't answer. Just walked away.
There was no point arguing—especially not with her hands still raised like a princess guarding her freshly painted crown jewels. She couldn't reach into her bag even if she wanted to, and deep down, she knew it. In the end, she gave up with a sigh.
"Fine. I'll just sit over there."
She made her way to a corner table, one of the cozier ones by the window. The café wasn't crowded, which worked in our favor; the food came fast, the drinks even faster.
She ordered a fruit tea. I ordered the same—not because I wanted it, but because I was curious. I'd only ever bought milk tea before, usually because a girlfriend liked it. I never truly enjoyed it. Fruit tea felt like something new, untainted by old memories. Something mine.
As I set our food down, she raised her hands slightly, palms open like she was showing off.
"Do you like my nails?" she asked, voice dipped in that familiar playfulness.
I glanced at them briefly, half-focused on arranging the trays. Then I met her gaze—those eyes, always half-lidded like they were born flirting.
"They're fine," I said coolly.
"I like having them done well, you know..." she added, lips curling into a smirk as her fingers found the straw of her fruit tea.
She began poking the straw into her drink, absentmindedly stabbing at the fruit slices swirling inside. The moment felt weirdly slow, like someone pressed pause on reality. The way her fingers curled. The way her glossy nails shimmered. Somehow, it all felt… sensual.
Too sensual.
"Stop that," I muttered, shaking my head. "You're messing with my brain."
"Huh?" she blinked, puzzled, then picked up the menu and started reading through it like nothing had happened.
I sighed, slumping slightly into my seat.
Turns out, she wasn't trying to be suggestive at all. I was just… hopelessly filthy in the head.
Damn this life.
"What do you mean stop that?" she asked, her eyes flicking toward me, brows slightly raised in curiosity.
I just shook my head and leaned back in my seat, letting the tension melt from my shoulders. There was no point explaining. She wouldn't get it—or worse, she would.
Then, she leaned in. Her elbows resting on the table, eyes fluttering shut with theatrical flair. She tilted her head closer and took a slow, exaggerated breath.
"Mmm... And to think you wanted to go home and shower when you already smell so damn good. It's addictive…"
Her voice trailed off, but the echo of her last word clung to my thoughts.
Addictive.
My brows furrowed. There it was again—that unshakable pull toward the edge of something dangerously suggestive. Around Lia, my thoughts didn't just wander—they ran wild.
"You're not my type, Lia," I said flatly, half to her, half to myself.
Her eyes popped open, narrowed in mock offense as her hand flew to her mouth. "Excuse me? I wasn't throwing myself at you either!"
I couldn't help the small smirk that curled on my lips.
"Wow, relax. You're so dramatic. I gave you a tiny compliment and now you're acting like I just proposed marriage. Weren't you the one who said you're good at sweet-talking people?"
She narrowed her eyes, leaning slightly forward.
"Did you just admit you sweet-talked me?"
I raised a brow. "So you were sweet-talked?"
She blinked—caught.
"Meaning you are a sweet-talker?" she shot back, deflecting.
I laughed under my breath. "No," I said coolly, "I just know how to appreciate the things I actually like."
She tilted her head at me, her brows lifting with smugness as she leaned back in her chair.
"Well, same goes for me. You smelled good, so I said so. Doesn't mean I'm into you. Don't flatter yourself—you're not my type."
"Oh? So your type is... what, ugly guys?"
"Excuse me!" Her eyes widened in full dramatic glory. "For your information, my current crush is handsome, thank you very much!"
I blinked.
Kevin? Was it him?
My thoughts paused for a beat, laced with an unfamiliar unease. Does she really like Kevin?
I wondered if Kevin even knew. Probably not. And even if he did—he's leaving right after graduation. No way he'd want to be tied down... unless it's for someone like Emilia. That guy might just make an exception for her.
I pushed the thoughts aside.
"Well, anyway... let's get started."
She crossed her arms, face unreadable.
"We're on the same page, right? If Natalie ends up being the jealous type, you're not just going to dump her without trying. You'll talk to her. Make her feel safe. Give her a chance."
I looked at her, a crooked smile tugging at my lips.
"Do you really think it's that hard to date me? Like I wouldn't give someone I like a chance?"
She scoffed and rolled her eyes, though amusement danced behind them.
"Oh please... you're smooth as hell, Apollo," she said with a smirk, "you could probably sweet-talk a nun out of her vows."
"So here's the setup," Lia began, eyes gleaming with excitement. "We'll 'accidentally' run into each other at the mall. Total coincidence vibe. I'll be meeting up with her afterward for coffee, so I'll bring her there."
"Alright," I nodded.
Of course I agreed. I mean, what else could I do?
Sure, it sounded a little ridiculous when said out loud. I wasn't used to playing out scenes like this—not in the literal sense. But now that I thought about it, what was the difference between this plan and my usual methods? Whether subtle or bold, making a move always had a bit of performance in it. It was all part of the game.
Back then, after every group meeting or school event, I'd linger. Just long enough. I'd wait for her to stay behind too. Sometimes I'd even pretend to need a paper, just so I had a reason to talk to her. This—this elaborate 'chance meeting'—wasn't that different. Theatrics wrapped in intention.
If Natalie was the prize, then yes… all of this? It was worth it.
I smirked to myself, already constructing the scene in my mind like a director setting up a shot.
"Crushing on someone from another school is the worst," I muttered under my breath, right after I tapped a like on Natalie's latest profile picture.
"You're feeling dry, huh?" Chona murmured, lazily leaning her head on my shoulder.
I turned my eyes to her, and for a fleeting moment, my last relationship flashed in my mind—the memory of how my ex had told me that her boyfriend had already started cheating on her. The words, the expression on her face—they still sat uncomfortably in the corners of my memory.
I stared at Chona, a strange heaviness building in my chest. Then I spoke, without evidence, without certainty—just a gut feeling.
"He's cheating on you," I said quietly.
"Here we go again…" she groaned, swatting me with her folded fan. I barely flinched and just pressed my hand over the spot where she hit me, sighing dramatically.
"Who told you that?" Raven asked, finally tearing his eyes away from the book he'd been buried in across from me.
"Three of my exes, actually…"
"Only three?" Josh chimed in from the side with a laugh. "You probably lost track of the rest because you've had so many."
"At least they were real relationships," I shot back with a proud tilt of my chin. "What about you? All games and zero heart."
Josh leaned forward with a wicked grin. "That's even worse—justifying your past like you weren't the one stringing those girls along, giving them false hope."
"Oh, shut up, both of you," Chona snapped, arms crossed. "You're both equally useless."
Time crawled, like it always did when you were waiting for something—or someone—that mattered. Saturday couldn't come fast enough. I woke up at the crack of dawn even though Lia and I weren't meeting until after lunch. And then, after our so-called hangout, she'd be meeting Natalie.
My moment was coming. I had to get this right.
I arrived at the mall early. Way earlier than I needed to. I had imagined a better setting for a first encounter, something a little more... memorable. But I had to remind myself—this wasn't a date. This was a performance. A scripted coincidence.
I made my way into H&M where Lia said she'd be. And there she was—casually flipping through a rack of clothes, her hair tucked behind her ear, unaware of how cinematic the whole thing looked. My steps slowed as I approached. She noticed me, eyes traveling from my head down to my shoes in a single assessing glance.
I raised an eyebrow, smirk tugging at my lips. "Do I look fine?"
"Not bad," she said, giving me a once-over. "Simple tee, jeans, sneakers. Clean. Classic."
I smirked. "Glad you approve. Thought you only had eyes for the ones wearing suspenders and vintage cardigans."
"Cute," she deadpanned. "But for the record, the guy I like now is actually attractive. Dresses well, too. You'd swallow your words if you saw him."
Kevin, the name rang silently in my head like an uninvited echo.
She had stopped pretending to look at clothes and now fully faced me. Her dress barely brushed her thighs, paired rebelliously with sneakers—a signature Lia look. Without a word, I followed her out of the store like a shadow with a purpose.
"Okay, here's the plan," she began, leading us toward the nearest coffee shop. "Natalie's watching a movie with her family, but she told me she can sneak out for a bit. I told her I'm here, so she'll swing by soon."
I nodded slowly. "Makes sense."
"And when she arrives," Lia continued, her tone sharpening with excitement, "you'll pretend you were just about to leave."
My brows drew together. "What?"
She cleared her throat and launched into a mocking imitation of my voice. "'Oh, hey Lia. I gotta go. Sorry, next time!'"
I rolled my eyes at her overdramatic performance. "Wow."
She grinned mischievously and went on, now acting as herself. "'Wait, really? I thought you said you'd be staying longer? Natalie, this is Deleon. We bumped into each other earlier. He didn't have a seat, so I let him stay here while he waits for someone. Is it okay if he stays a bit longer?'"
She blinked at me innocently like she hadn't just laid out a master plan worthy of a con artist.
This girl… a smooth-talking, chaos-brewing, script-writing hustler in heels.
And yet, I was strangely impressed.
"That's fine, Lia," she said in a soft, delicate tone—already slipping into Natalie's role with dramatic ease.
"Tch," I clicked my tongue, skeptical. "Do you really think this will work? What if she says no? What if I end up walking home with nothing but heartbreak?"
"It'll work! I'm telling you," she said with a mischievous grin, as if she'd just guaranteed my fate.
"But she's shy," I argued, doubt flooding me again. "What if she'd rather be alone? I'll just make her uncomfortable. My mere existence might be an inconvenience. This plan is doomed."
Lia met my gaze and gave me a slow, confident wink. "Watch me."
I didn't believe her, not completely. But there was something about the way she carried herself—so sure, so commanding. She knew Natalie. She understood how she thought, how she reacted. And that was enough for now. I let my doubts hang loosely in the air, too tired to argue.
"What do you want to order?" I asked, watching her settle into her seat with casual grace.
She was texting, and I had a feeling I knew exactly who was on the other end. My stomach twisted, adrenaline shooting through me like a warning bell. Is it really happening? Am I finally going to talk to her?
"Later," she said, without looking up. "I'll get it."
"No, let me," I replied, already rising from my chair. "This one's on me. After all, you're doing me a huge favor."
A sly smirk tugged at her lips, and she leaned back, victorious.
"That's exactly what I meant," she said, her eyes gleaming. "I was always going to make you pay, Deleon. I just meant… I'll do the buying later."
Her smirk widened into something devilish.
God, this girl was infuriatingly clever—and dangerously good at making things happen.
I narrowed my eyes, suspicion brimming beneath my calm facade, but in the end—I gave in. She really was a con artist in designer sneakers.
"Hand me your money," she said with the smooth confidence of someone used to getting her way.
If I didn't know her any better, I would've thought she was only in it for the cash. Still, I opened my wallet, eyebrows twitching.
"The one-thousand peso bill," she added, like a queen selecting her tribute.
I handed it over without protest. She took it with a grin, her fingers already dancing across her phone screen again, plotting something I had no control over.
My chest tightened. Maybe it was because of Natalie. Or maybe—just maybe—it was the fact that the woman in front of me was unpredictable in every way. There was a glint in her eyes… something sharp, calculated, terrifyingly assured. She looked like someone who always got what she wanted. A wolf in lipstick and sneakers.
"She's on her way," she said coolly.
I jerked upright and looked around, eyes scanning every corner like a soldier preparing for battle.
"You idiot," she whispered with a half-laugh. "She said she's coming. That doesn't mean she's already here."
"Could've said that clearer," I muttered through gritted teeth, trying to swallow my nerves.
She scrolled casually through her phone again, while I sat frozen in place. My hands stayed far from my own phone now—I couldn't even pretend to be relaxed. My heart was beating faster than it ever had with any of my exes. This wasn't just a crush. It felt like something… deeper. And way more dangerous.
I reminded myself of what Lia had said. Be patient with her. And I would be. If jealousy ever became a problem, I'd give her the benefit of the doubt. I'd learn how to calm the storm instead of walking away from it. I owed her that chance.
"You've been sitting here a while, huh?" Lia suddenly said out loud, her voice deliberately raised.
I blinked. What the hell? What was she doing?
"What?"
"Who are you waiting for?" she asked, still keeping up the act.
God. This girl was out of her mind—and yet I couldn't look away.
And then it hit me—she was already acting.
Because just as suddenly, Natalie was there… standing quietly by her side.
Her presence was soft, unassuming. She didn't say a word at first, just stood there with her curious eyes flicking between us. I could feel her wondering why I was seated at their table like I belonged.
She wore light-washed jeans that hugged her legs just right, paired with a simple t-shirt and sneakers. Yet even in her most casual form, there was something undeniably captivating about her. Natalie was the kind of beautiful that didn't beg for attention—it just existed, effortlessly.
Her long, wavy brown hair caught the air as she tilted her head, glancing at Emilia, then at me. My heart jolted. Emilia, on the other hand, kept her usual flair, cool and unapologetically bold. Damn it. If she overdoes this act, Natalie might get the wrong idea—that there's something going on between us. And I couldn't afford for her to be turned off.
"Ah… friends," I said lightly, hoping to clear up any confusion, my eyes flicking to Emilia with warning.
"Oh! You're here already, Natalie!" Emilia said brightly as she pulled out the chair between us. "Come, sit here!"
Natalie hesitated for a moment, her voice as delicate as a feather when she finally spoke.
"Um… Am I interrupting something?"
God. That soft, hesitant tone. Like a breeze brushing against skin. She sounded so unsure, so innocent—too innocent for a setup like this.
"Oh, no! I just bumped into Deleon five minutes ago," Emilia replied smoothly, waving her hand like the moment was casual. "There were no free seats, so I told him to sit here for a while. He said he'd leave when his guy friends arrive."
Natalie looked at me with wide, questioning eyes. I gave her a calm, reassuring smile, even as panic silently banged against my chest.
"Uh… do you feel uncomfortable?" I asked gently, my voice quieter than usual. I couldn't help it—I needed this to go right.
She glanced at Emilia, clearly torn, her shyness making it hard to speak up.
"Well… actually…" she whispered, her voice trailing off as her gaze dropped.
Shit. My stomach sank. I knew it. This plan was doomed.
But then, to my surprise, Emilia stood up.
She slung her bag over her shoulder and flipped her hair back with that familiar flair—like a girl who had done her part in a heist and was now leaving the scene with a smirk.
"D-Do you not want this?" Natalie asked, her voice laced with hesitation, like someone tiptoeing on uncertain ground.
My eyes widened. Was she about to back out?
She glanced around, her gaze sweeping across the now fully packed Starbucks. The clatter of cups, the hum of conversations, the clinking of spoons against mugs—it all surrounded us in a cloud of noise and warm air.
"We can find another table somewhere," she murmured, her fingers fidgeting. "Or maybe try another coffee shop. I'm really sorry, Leo… we can just—"
"Uhm… I-it's fine, Lia. R-Really… here is okay," she said quietly, trying her best to smile even as her discomfort peeked through.
"Are you sure?" I asked again, feeling a storm of panic rising in my chest. "We can always move. I mean, it's really crowded here… and I don't mind."
What the hell is Emilia doing?
"It's fine here, Lia," Natalie repeated, softer this time, like she was trying to convince herself.
I caught Emilia glancing at me. Her eyes were wide with silent instructions, her lips moving without sound as she exaggerated her mouth: Stand. Up. Now.
What?
But I got up anyway, even though I had no clue what scheme she was pulling this time.
"Hey, Leo, don't be like that," Emilia suddenly said, loud enough for Natalie to hear. "Come on, don't go. It's fine, we're okay. You're by yourself and you're waiting for someone anyway, right? At least us, we've already seen each other…"
What the hell is she saying now?
My jaw nearly dropped. She was winging the entire thing, flipping the situation like some manipulative theater director on caffeine.
Emilia—the master schemer. The sweet-faced hustler. And I was just the dumb pawn trying not to fumble the entire act.
"Ah," I murmured, scratching the back of my neck, trying not to look as rattled as I felt.
"No, I'm sorry… It's okay, really." Natalie fumbled with her words, her voice cracking softly as she reached for the empty chair, her hand trembling ever so slightly. She hesitated before easing herself down.
Across from me, Emilia sent me a quick, conspiratorial wink.
Damn it. This is how she plays people. No wonder she's so good at twisting things to her favor—she could probably con the devil himself into repenting. Hell, I almost believed her too.
"Are you really sure?" Emilia asked Natalie again, feigning concern as if she hadn't masterminded this entire setup five minutes ago.
"Yes, I'm sure," Natalie replied with a small, apologetic smile. "Sorry again. I just… I thought the two of you were on, like, a date or something."
"No, no, not at all," I quickly chimed in, shaking my head so fast it was borderline pathetic.
"You know who I like, don't you?" Emilia said, rolling her eyes at Natalie with playful drama. "Why would I go on a date with someone else? You really don't trust me, huh?"
Natalie laughed softly at that. Her smile reached her eyes now as she looked at Emilia… and then glanced at me. I saw it—the tiniest curve of a grin forming on her lips. A spark of amusement. Then, she sat down completely.
"Sorry again," I said quietly. "You're really okay with this?"
"Yes," she nodded, calmer now.
Just then, Lia stood from her seat with all the flair of someone who knew she'd won the first round.
"I'll get our drinks. What do you want, Natalie?"
Natalie told her order, and then Lia turned to me. I gave her mine, half-rising from my seat to offer help.
"I got this," she said, eyes widening in mock warning—and that was all the signal I needed to sit my ass back down.
This damn genius. This smooth-talking puppet master of a woman was now strutting to the counter… leaving me alone at the table with Natalie.
Alone. With. Natalie.
Hell yes.