Drinks
Mikha's eyes flicked to the clock on her screen, the numbers blurring slightly as her mind wandered. She'd been staring at the same report for half an hour, but her focus kept slipping back to Aiah—Aiah, who was always quick to snap, always ready with a sharp remark. Aiah, whose stubbornness could rival Mikha’s own.
Her gaze shifted to Aiah’s cubicle across the room. The other woman was hunched over her desk, fingers tapping away with that familiar, focused intensity. Mikha’s lips curved into a smirk. There was something thrilling about getting under Aiah's skin, watching her composure crack just enough to let Mikha see the fire underneath.
On a whim, Mikha stood, striding over with a practiced confidence. As she approached, Aiah didn’t notice—too lost in her screen.
“Staring at it won’t make it write itself, you know.”
Aiah’s head jerked up, and Mikha saw the surprise flash in her eyes before it quickly hardened.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me?” Aiah shot back, her voice sharp.
Mikha leaned casually against the partition, crossing her arms. "I just thought I’d check if you’re actually working. Baka naman nagpapanggap ka lang."
There it was—that look. The way Aiah’s brows knitted together, the slight tightening of her jaw. Mikha's smirk widened. It was too easy sometimes.
"And what business is it of yours?" Aiah challenged.
Mikha tilted her head, playful but watchful. “It becomes my business when your half-baked ideas are presented to the board alongside mine.”
Aiah's eyes flared with anger, and Mikha almost regretted pushing her that far. Almost.
“Don’t worry, Mikha. My work doesn’t need your unsolicited evaluation,” Aiah retorted.
The bite in Aiah’s voice stung more than Mikha anticipated. The smirk on her face slipped just a fraction, her eyes hardening reflexively. She stepped closer, the air thickening between them.
“Right. Because clearly, your way is always the best way, isn’t it?” she challenged, her voice a little sharper than intended.
Aiah stood abruptly, facing her squarely, defiant. “At least I don’t manipulate my way to the top.”
Mikha's pulse spiked, the words striking deeper than they should have. She forced a smirk, but it felt hollow.
"Careful, Aiah," she said quietly, her voice edged. "You might just find yourself outmatched."
For a split second, something flashed in Aiah’s eyes—something uncertain, hesitant. It unnerved Mikha more than she wanted to admit.
“Don’t worry, Mikha. I can handle you.”
Mikha stepped back, her smirk sharpening as a shield. She had to regain control.
"Good luck with that," she muttered before walking away, each step a deliberate effort to keep from looking back.
As she returned to her desk, her phone buzzed. A message from Colet:
"Saw that. Ang init, girl. Ano, besties na kayo?"
Mikha’s grip tightened around her phone, an annoyed scoff escaping her. Trust Colet to find a joke in everything. Mikha’s gaze drifted to Aiah's desk once more, a mix of irritation and something else simmering in her chest.
///
Mikha barely managed to refocus on her screen, Aiah's parting words echoing in her head. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, but all she could picture was that stubborn, defiant glare.
"Pull yourself together, Mikha," she muttered under her breath.
A few minutes later, the office printer beeped, signaling her files were ready. As she made her way there, she saw Aiah already by the machine, sorting through a stack of papers.
Mikha considered just waiting until Aiah left. Less friction, less headache. But her pride wouldn't allow it. She walked over, chin up, shoulders squared.
Aiah glanced at her, the crease in her forehead deepening. “Kailangan mo ba ng tulong, Miss Perfect?”
Mikha rolled her eyes, forcing a smirk. “Just getting my prints. Don't flatter yourself.”
Their hands collided briefly when they both reached for the same set of documents. A jolt shot up Mikha’s arm, and she saw the flicker of surprise in Aiah’s eyes. They paused, an awkward silence hanging between them.
"Sure ka ba na sa 'yo 'yan?" Aiah challenged, tilting her head, her grip still on the stack.
Mikha met her gaze, unwilling to back down. "Positive. Pero kung gusto mong i-double-check, be my guest."
Aiah didn't move, and for a moment, they just stood there, a silent standoff. The hum of the printer and the distant chatter of their coworkers seemed to fade. Mikha’s jaw tightened, but she couldn't deny the racing of her pulse.
Finally, Aiah clicked her tongue, releasing the papers. “Fine. Enjoy your precious prints.”
///
Later that afternoon, Mikha stepped out of the office building for a quick breather. The sun was starting to dip, casting long shadows across the street. She closed her eyes, taking in the fresh air — anything to clear her head from the mess Aiah stirred up.
“Taking a break from being perfect?”
Mikha’s eyes snapped open. Standing a few steps away, leaning casually against the wall, was Aiah. There was a smirk on her face, that familiar look of challenge.
“Taking a break from being a pain?” Mikha shot back, arms crossing defensively.
Aiah laughed softly, the sound both infuriating and oddly disarming. She stepped closer, arms folded loosely. “Tough day? Or ako lang talaga ang problema mo?”
Mikha rolled her eyes, forcing a chuckle. “Please, Aiah. You're barely a footnote.”
Aiah’s gaze lingered, unreadable, before she shook her head. “Kung ayaw mong aminin, okay lang. Pero sana next time, mas convincing 'yung lies mo.”
Before Mikha could retort, Aiah had already walked off, her confident strides echoing softly on the pavement. Mikha's jaw tightened, her pulse unsteady. She watched as Aiah disappeared into the building, leaving her alone — and annoyingly unsettled.
Mikha let out a frustrated breath. There was something infuriating about how Aiah seemed to enjoy toying with her, as if every interaction was a game only she knew the rules to. And what was worse — Mikha couldn't help but play along.
Mikha's thoughts lingered as she made her way back to her office. She hated how Aiah got under her skin so easily — how a single conversation could unravel her focus. It was ridiculous. Childish, even.
Her phone buzzed, a message from Gwen.
Gwen: Hey, drinks later? Stress reliever!
Mikha sighed, tempted to agree. She needed a distraction, anything to shake off the frustration Aiah left behind.
Before she could reply, she noticed a familiar figure crossing the lobby. Aiah, animatedly talking to someone Mikha didn’t recognize. The sight should've been easy to ignore, but her eyes stubbornly followed, noting the way Aiah's eyes crinkled when she laughed, the confident tilt of her head.
“Staring is rude, you know.”
Mikha startled, turning to find Jhoanna beside her, a teasing smirk on her face.
“I wasn’t staring,” Mikha shot back, trying to sound unaffected.
Jhoanna snorted, clearly unconvinced. “Sure, sure. Just keep telling yourself that, Mikha.”
“Whatever,” Mikha muttered, quickly typing a reply to Gwen's invite. Her fingers felt heavy against the screen, her mind still stuck on the way Aiah’s laugh had sounded — light, unburdened, like nothing could touch her.
It was infuriating. And more than that, it was distracting.
///
Later that evening, Mikha walked into the bar with Gwen, Jhoanna, and Colet. The music thumped through the air, a mix of bass-heavy beats and lively chatter. It was just the noise she needed to drown out the lingering frustration from earlier.
"First round's on me!" Gwen announced, grinning as she led the way to the counter.
Mikha leaned against the bar, exhaling deeply. The lights were dim, the atmosphere loose and unrestrained. For a moment, she felt like she could finally breathe.
“Stress reliever, right?” Jhoanna nudged her, smirking. “Mukhang masama pa rin ang araw mo.”
Mikha shook her head, a small smile forming. “Trabaho. You know how it is.”
Before Jhoanna could prod further, the bartender placed their drinks down, and they grabbed them eagerly. As Mikha took a sip, her gaze wandered over the crowd — and stopped cold.
Aiah was there, leaning casually against a high table, a drink in hand. She was laughing with Stacey, Maloi and Sheena, completely at ease. Mikha’s heart dropped, her grip tightening on her glass.
“Uy, Mikha,” Colet called out. “Okay ka lang?”
Mikha forced a tight smile. “Yeah. Just... didn't expect to see someone here.”
She glanced back to Aiah — just in time to see Aiah’s eyes land on her, surprise flickering before they narrowed in that familiar, infuriating smirk.
Mikha quickly averted her gaze, forcing herself to focus on the drink in her hand. The last thing she needed was another round of Aiah’s provoking remarks.
“Uy, sino 'yung tinitingnan mo?” Gwen teased, trying to follow Mikha's line of sight.
“No one,” Mikha muttered, but it was too late. Jhoanna had already spotted Aiah.
“Ohhh, rivalry alert!” Jhoanna snickered, nudging Mikha. “What are the odds na nandito si Aiah?”
Mikha rolled her eyes, feigning nonchalance. “Seriously, guys, hindi siya big deal.”
“Sure, sure,” Colet laughed, taking a long sip of her drink. “Pero kung gusto mo ng suporta, alam mo na — andito kami. Sabihin mo lang.”
Mikha huffed a laugh, but her attention kept drifting to Aiah, who was now talking animatedly with Sheena. Her fingers drummed on the table, a nervous habit she couldn't quite shake.
Just when she thought she could get through the night without incident, Aiah's gaze caught hers again. This time, there was a flicker of curiosity beneath the smirk, a momentary pause that made Mikha's pulse stutter.
Mikha quickly looked away, taking a longer sip of her drink. She told herself it was just coincidence — a random, meaningless moment.
“Mikha, come on! Let’s dance!” Colet urged, tugging at her arm.
Mikha hesitated, her eyes unconsciously drifting back to Aiah’s table. The smirk from earlier lingered in her mind, and she didn’t know if it was irritation or curiosity gnawing at her.
“Go na!” Jhoanna pushed, practically shoving her onto the dance floor. “Loosen up! Forget about work for once.”
Mikha sighed but allowed herself to be pulled into the crowd. The music was loud, the beat vibrating through her bones. She closed her eyes, letting herself get lost in the rhythm, in the rush of anonymity. It was freeing — until she felt a presence nearby.
Her eyes snapped open, and there was Aiah, just a few feet away. Maloi and Sheena were dancing beside her, but Aiah’s gaze was on Mikha, amusement flickering across her features.
Mikha's jaw tightened. Of course. The universe just loved to mess with her.
Aiah raised a brow, an infuriatingly smug look on her face. Without thinking, Mikha straightened her back and danced with more intensity, determined not to let Aiah think she could get under her skin.
But Aiah just watched, a smirk curling at the corner of her lips, like this was a game only she understood.
///
Aiah watched Mikha dance, unable to hide the smirk that crept onto her lips. The way Mikha's expression had shifted from surprise to irritation in a split second had been too entertaining. She took a slow sip of her drink, eyes still trained on Mikha as if daring her to look back.
“Uy, Aiah, sino 'yang tinititigan mo?” Maloi teased, nudging her shoulder.
Aiah shrugged casually. “Wala naman. Just... a familiar face.”
Sheena followed Aiah's gaze and laughed. “Ah, si Mikha pala. Ano na? May bagong away na naman ba kayong dalawa?”
Aiah rolled her eyes, but her smirk remained. “Wala naman. Nagkataon lang. Small world, I guess.”
When Mikha's eyes flicked her way again, Aiah held her gaze, daring her to look away first. For a brief second, it felt like a silent challenge — a game of who would blink first
“Ano, Aiah, lapitan mo na. Para matuldukan na yang rivalry niyo,” Maloi teased, nudging her shoulder playfully.
Aiah snorted. “As if. Baka lalo lang magkasakitan.”
Sheena laughed. “Eh baka 'yun ang gusto mo, 'di ba? Parang ang saya mo tuwing inaasar mo siya.”
Aiah leaned back, crossing her arms. “Wala akong ginagawa, okay? Hindi ko siya pinapansin, siya lang ang laging pikon.”
“Pikon? Ikaw kaya lagi ang nang-uuna,” Maloi countered, grinning.
“Wow, ako pa talaga?” Aiah chuckled, her gaze slipping back to Mikha, who was still dancing with her friends. “Baka kasi gusto lang niyang pansinin ko siya.”
“Oo na, sure ka na diyan,” Sheena quipped, rolling her eyes. “Eh kung gusto mo talagang asarin, lapitan mo na kaya. Baka sakaling may fireworks.”
Aiah's eyes sparkled with mischief. “G? Tara.”
She straightened up, leaving her drink on the table. Maloi and Sheena exchanged glances, excitement flashing between them. Aiah weaved through the crowd until she was just a few feet away from Mikha.
“Uy, Mikha,” Aiah called out, her tone playful. “Hindi mo naman ako na-miss masyado, 'di ba?”
Mikha froze, eyes widening before they narrowed. “Bakit? Napadpad ka rin dito? Kulang pa ba ang araw-araw na asaran natin?”
Aiah chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Grabe ka naman. Akala ko ba dito tayo nagre-relax? Ba’t ang defensive mo?”
Mikha crossed her arms, a smirk forming. “Relaxed naman ako. Ikaw kaya? Wala bang ibang target ng pang-aasar mo dito?”
“Wala eh,” Aiah teased. “Ikaw lang ang deserving.”
Jhoanna, who had been eavesdropping, leaned closer to Mikha and whispered loudly, “Uy, Mikha, special mention ka raw.”
Mikha shot her a glare. “Shush ka diyan.”
Aiah tilted her head, eyes glimmering with amusement. “Ayan, o. May back-up ka pa. Baka gusto mong sumali lahat ng friends mo?”
Colet chimed in, grinning, “Baka gusto mong mapalibutan kami, Aiah?”
Aiah laughed, hands up in mock surrender. “Uy, hindi ko kayo kaya. Isa lang naman ang gusto kong kausap.” Her gaze returned to Mikha, the playful edge still there.
Mikha rolled her eyes, but a reluctant smile crept onto her face. “Wow, napaka-special ko pala.”
“Always naman,” Aiah shot back, smirking. “Tara, inom na lang kaysa mag-away tayo dito.”
Mikha paused, a bit surprised by the suggestion. “Sige nga, tingnan natin kung kaya mo akong sabayan.”
Before Aiah and Mikha could move toward the bar, Jhoanna leaned closer to Colet and whispered, “Uy, nakita mo ba si Stacey? Kanina ko pa hinahanap.”
Colet chuckled, nudging Gwen. “Baka kasama ni Sheena. Alam mo namang inseparable 'yun.”
Gwen grinned, glancing around. “Ayan o, sila sa may dulo.” She nodded toward the corner, where Sheena and Stacey were talking animatedly. Their laughter floated over the noise of the bar.
“Hay nako, Jho,” Colet teased. “Ingitera ka lang kasi di mo kasama si Stacey.”
Jhoanna rolled her eyes, but a small smile played on her lips. “Excuse me, hindi ako clingy.”
“Sure ka diyan?” Gwen teased.
“Baka gusto mong lapitan,” Colet added, smirking. “Para naman kompleto ang power couple ng barkada.”
Jhoanna was about to retort when Aiah's voice cut through, directing everyone's attention back to her and Mikha.
“O, shot tayo? Kaya pa?,” Aiah challenged, her gaze unwavering on Mikha.
Mikha arched a brow, smirking. “Kaya ko pa rin naman kahit ikaw kasama ko.”
“Aba, confident ka pala,” Aiah quipped, grabbing a pair of shot glasses. “Let's see kung hanggang saan 'yang confidence mo.”
Aiah poured the shots, her eyes not leaving Mikha's. The rest of their friends watched, smirking and exchanging glances. It was as if the whole bar had faded, leaving only the two of them caught in this charged, silent challenge.
"Cheers," Aiah said, raising her glass.
Mikha clinked her shot glass against Aiah's. "Cheers."
They downed the shots in sync, and Mikha barely flinched, a satisfied smirk curling her lips. Aiah, on the other hand, hissed slightly at the burn of the alcohol, but the smirk remained plastered on her face.
"Mahina," Mikha taunted. "Kala ko ba kaya mo?"
Aiah leaned closer, her face just inches from Mikha’s. Her voice dropped low, teasing yet defiant. “Sino bang mahina, ha? Baka ikaw ang unang bumagsak dito.”
Mikha's breath hitched, the proximity sending a jolt through her. But she wasn't about to back down. Not to Aiah. “Tingnan natin, Aiah. Baka nakakalimutan mong kaya kitang sabayan kahit saan.”
A tense silence hung between them, broken only by Jhoanna’s exaggerated cough.
“Okay, okay. Baka naman mag-away na kayo sa sobrang asaran,” she teased. “Chill lang, mga gays.”
Mikha chuckled, crossing her arms. "Oh? Kaya mo pala akong sabayan kahit saan? Big words, Aiah."
Aiah mirrored her stance, smirking. "Why not? Unless... natatakot ka?"
Mikha's eyes narrowed playfully. "Scared? Of you? Please."
Colet nudged Jhoanna, whispering loudly, "Grabe, ang intense. Parang teleserye."
Gwen snickered, adding, "Sana all may ka-tension na ganyan."
Jhoanna glanced over at Stacey, who had just joined their group with Sheena. Sheena raised a brow, clearly curious about the palpable energy in the air.
"Anong nangyayari dito?" Stacey asked, looking between Aiah and Mikha.
"Just your typical rivalry," Gwen joked. "You missed the shot showdown."
Stacey grinned. "Wow, parang walang nagbago. Still at each other's throats."
Aiah's smirk widened, her gaze still locked on Mikha. "At least may laban. Baka naman iba diyan, nagpapatalo na lang agad."
Mikha's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Sana lahat nalang matapang kagaya mo, Aiah. Pero alam mo... talk is cheap."
That got an audible "Oooooh!" from their friends, with Colet and Sheena fanning themselves dramatically. Mikha rolled her eyes at their antics but kept her gaze on Aiah. It was a silent dare—a challenge neither of them was willing to lose.
Aiah leaned against the bar, tilting her head as she studied Mikha. Her smirk was sharp, playful, but her eyes glinted with a challenge. "Talk is cheap, Mikha. But it looks like that's all you've got."
Mikha laughed, a low, confident sound that sent a shiver down Aiah's spine. "Oh? You want me to prove something, Aiah?"
Aiah's eyes widened for a split second before quickly recovering, smirking back. "Maybe I just don't think you have the guts. All bark, no bite."
Mikha stepped closer, their faces almost level. Her voice lowered, teasing but edged with a dare. "Are you sure you want to find out what I can do?"
Sheena choked on her drink, muttering, “Wow, iwanan na ba natin?”
Jhoanna laughed, patting Sheena's back. "'Wag, best part of the night 'to."
Aiah didn't break eye contact. Her pulse quickened, but she was too stubborn to let Mikha see her flustered. "Please, Mikha. You wouldn't even know where to start."
Mikha's gaze flicked to Aiah's lips for a split second before returning to her eyes. "Careful, Aiah. Baka 'di mo kayanin pag ginawa ko na."
Their friends exchanged amused glances, caught between curiosity and anticipation. The air was thick with unspoken challenges—neither of them willing to back down.
Jhoanna glanced at Sheena and Maloi, a knowing smirk spreading across her face. “You know what, guys? I think the bar's getting too crowded. Let's grab another table.”
Sheena blinked, looking between Aiah and Mikha, whose faces were still inches apart. “Uh, yeah… Sure.”
Maloi caught on and grinned. "Yeah, let’s go. I think we’re interrupting something here." She shot a wink at Aiah before pulling Sheena away.
“Wait, huh? Bakit—” Sheena started to protest, but Maloi quickly hushed her, leading her away with a laugh. Jhoanna and Gwen followed, shooting one last amused glance over their shoulders.
Now, with their friends gone, the noise of the bar seemed to fade into the background. It was just Aiah and Mikha, their challenging gazes still locked.
"So," Mikha broke the silence, the corner of her mouth quirking up. "Still think I'm all talk, Aiah?"
Aiah's heartbeat quickened, but her smirk didn't falter. "Maybe you should just prove me wrong."
Mikha leaned in, close enough that Aiah could feel the whisper of her breath. Her voice was low, teasing yet undeniably charged. "Careful what you wish for."
For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them was electric, daring one of them to make a move—or back down.
Aiah's breath caught in her throat, but she didn't move away. She refused to be the first to back down, to show any sign of retreat. Her eyes held Mikha's gaze, defiant yet curious.
"Am I supposed to be scared now?" Aiah challenged, raising an eyebrow.
Mikha chuckled softly, the sound rich and unapologetic. "Depends. Are you scared?"
Aiah's jaw tightened, the corner of her mouth twitching in a smirk. "Not in the slightest."
Mikha tilted her head, the playful smirk never leaving her face. "Then why are you still standing so close?"
Aiah's heart hammered against her chest, but she managed a cool response. "I could ask you the same thing."
For a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of them—no crowded bar, no prying eyes of their friends—just Aiah and Mikha locked in a silent standoff.
Mikha finally leaned back, breaking the tension with a smirk. "Interesting."
Aiah blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden distance. "What's interesting?"
Mikha took a step back, shrugging casually. "Just... you." She shot a final, teasing smile before turning away, leaving Aiah staring after her, conflicted and curious.
Aiah squinted at the half-empty glass in front of her, her vision slightly blurred. The bass of the music pulsed through her chest, almost in sync with her heartbeat. Mikha sat beside her, twirling a straw between her fingers, eyes glazed but still carrying that stubborn sharpness.
“This tastes like water,” Mikha muttered, unimpressed with her drink. “Who even said this bar was good?”
Aiah chuckled, the sound a little louder than intended. “Weren’t you the one who insisted we get drunk tonight? Now you're complaining?”
Mikha shot her a look, raising a brow. “I can complain even if I'm drunk, right?”
Aiah smirked, leaning her chin on her hand. "You want another round? Or baka naman hindi mo kaya?"
Mikha straightened, a spark of competitiveness lighting her eyes. “I can handle it. Maybe it’s you who can’t.”
“Try me,” Aiah challenged, her smirk widening.
Mikha waved at the bartender, ordering another round. When the shots arrived, she slid one to Aiah, their fingers brushing for a second—brief, unnoticed, and quickly ignored.
They both lifted their glasses.
“What’s this for?” Aiah asked.
Mikha thought for a moment, her gaze unfocused. “For... whatever this is. No reason.”
They clinked their glasses and downed the shots, both grimacing at the burn. The alcohol sent another wave of warmth through Aiah’s body, her thoughts fuzzier yet freer. She saw Mikha’s expression soften, just for a split second, before Mikha wiped her lips and smirked.
“I thought you could handle your liquor. Your face is so red,” Mikha teased.
Aiah rolled her eyes, nudging Mikha’s shoulder. “You literally just said it's okay to complain while drunk.”
Mikha laughed—a sound that cut through the chaos of the bar, clear and unguarded. Aiah found herself staring a beat too long before she shook her head, snapping herself out of it.
“So, another shot?” Mikha challenged, grinning daringly.
Aiah met her gaze, the air between them charged yet careless. “Game.”
As the next round of shots arrived, Aiah took hers immediately, wincing as the burn traveled down her throat. Mikha watched her with a smirk, twirling her own glass before finally taking the shot.
“Ano, Aiah? Hanggang saan ka ba tatagal?” Mikha taunted, her tone playful yet sharp.
Aiah leaned in closer, the scent of alcohol heavy between them. "Baka mas tumagal pa ako kaysa sa 'yo."
Mikha's eyes narrowed, her smirk unwavering. "Oh? Big words for someone who's already tipsy."
“Sino’ng tipsy?” Aiah shot back, nudging Mikha’s shoulder a little harder. “Baka ikaw nga 'tong bumabagsak na, eh.”
Mikha rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips softened—almost inviting. "Please, I've handled worse. I think I can handle you."
Mikha rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips softened—almost inviting. "Please, I've handled worse. I think I can handle you."
Aiah's breath caught for a split second, the weight of Mikha's words sinking in. It was a challenge—one that Aiah didn't know if she was ready to face.
"Hmm," Aiah leaned in, her face close enough for their noses to almost touch. "We'll see."
The noise of the bar seemed to fade for a moment, their gazes locked. Mikha's smirk wavered, just slightly, before she pulled back, clearing her throat. She grabbed her drink and threw it back, breaking the momentary stillness.
“Fine,” Mikha muttered, almost to herself. “We'll see.”
The silence between them was heavy, the kind that left questions hanging in the air. Aiah's heart pounded, a mix of defiance and curiosity threading through her veins. Mikha’s gaze lingered, unwavering and sharp.
“Sige nga,” Aiah challenged, her tone lighter yet loaded. “Ano bang kaya mong i-handle, ha?”
Mikha leaned back, draping her arm casually over the back of her chair, but her eyes didn’t leave Aiah’s face. “Well, for starters, I've handled plenty of stubborn, hard-headed people,” she teased. “Kagaya mo.”
Aiah scoffed, but her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Wow, thank you ha. I guess congratulations are in order?”
Mikha chuckled, a low, melodic sound that sent a shiver up Aiah’s spine. “No need, sanay na ako sa mga katulad mo.”
“Katulad ko?” Aiah arched a brow. “Anong katulad ko?”
Mikha took a sip of her drink, her eyes glimmering with mischief. “Yung mga mahirap basahin. Pa-tough, pa-cool, pero easily flustered.”
Aiah's jaw dropped a little, genuinely caught off guard. “Excuse me? Ako, easily flustered?”
Mikha grinned wider, the playful glint in her eyes undeniable. “Look at you right now. Red na red na yung mukha mo.”
Aiah bit her lip, torn between irritation and amusement. She leaned in once more, determined to regain control. “Baka ikaw nga 'tong hindi kaya ako i-handle, Mikha.”
Mikha’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but she quickly recovered, the air between them crackling with unspoken tension.
“Don’t test me, Aiah.”
Aiah’s eyes narrowed, the playful edge sharpening into something more daring. "Test you? Baka ikaw pa 'tong bumigay, Mikha."
Mikha's smirk faltered for a split second before returning, sharper. "Oh? Gusto mong malaman kung sino ang unang bibigay?"
“Go ahead,” Aiah dared, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m waiting.”
Mikha leaned in slowly, close enough that Aiah could see the faint freckles scattered across her cheeks, details hidden unless you were this close. The thumping of the music seemed to fade away, the world narrowing to just the space between them.
“Do you really think I'm scared of you, Aiah?” Mikha's voice was soft, deliberate, each word a challenge. Her breath brushed Aiah's cheek, warm and intoxicating.
Aiah's heart stuttered, her resolve wavering. She could play this game, had always been good at it, but the way Mikha's gaze flicked down to her lips—deliberate and lingering—made the air between them heavy.
Mikha didn't look away, didn't pretend it was unintentional. She just stared, her gaze locked on Aiah’s lips like it held a secret.
Aiah's heart pounded, but there was no way she was backing down. If Mikha thought she could rattle her, she had another thing coming.
A smirk curled on Aiah's lips as she tilted her chin up, closing the already small distance between them. "Who's scared now, huh?" she challenged, her voice steady.
Mikha's eyes didn't waver, still locked onto Aiah's lips. "You're the one shaking," she countered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Aiah's eyebrow arched, a surge of boldness rushing through her veins. "You sure about that?" Without breaking eye contact, she leaned in even closer—barely a breath between them now. Her gaze deliberately dropped to Mikha’s lips, lingering just as long, just as intense.
Mikha's smirk faltered, her throat bobbing slightly. It was the smallest crack, but Aiah saw it. And it was enough.
"I thought you weren't going to back out," Aiah taunted softly, her voice lower now. The tension between them felt like a tightrope stretched to its limit, threatening to snap.
Mikha chuckled, but it was strained, breathless. "Careful, Aiah. You might be getting in over your head."
Aiah didn’t budge, holding her ground. "Says the one who's looking like she's about to lose it," she shot back, the glimmer in her eyes daring Mikha to make the next move.
Mikha's breath was warm against Aiah's cheek, the closeness burning hotter than the alcohol coursing through their veins. The noise of the bar faded into a dull hum, swallowed by the electric silence crackling between them.
"Are you sure about this, Aiah?" Mikha's voice was low, a murmur meant just for her. "Because it looks like you're the one who can't step back."
Aiah's eyes flicked to Mikha's lips—just for a second—then back to her eyes. She refused to be the one who broke first. If Mikha wanted a game, she'd give it to her.
"If you want to leave, Mikha, no one's stopping you," Aiah whispered, her voice steady but edged with a challenge. "Pero andito ka pa rin, diba?"
Mikha's fingers brushed lightly against Aiah's arm, a deliberate, testing touch that sent a shiver up her spine. A pause. A dare.
"Maybe I like seeing you this close," Mikha muttered, her smirk resurfacing but her eyes betraying something deeper—something caught between amusement and curiosity.
Aiah's heartbeat hammered against her chest, but she leaned in even closer, their foreheads almost touching. Her voice dropped to a whisper, low and taunting. "Well, enjoy the view, Mikha. Baka last chance mo na 'to."
Mikha's smirk faltered, her gaze falling briefly to Aiah's lips before snapping back to her eyes—dark, searching, caught. The air between them felt charged, heavy with unspoken words and possibilities neither wanted to name.
"You think you know everything, Aiah," Mikha's voice was tight, barely holding back something that threatened to spill. "But maybe you're the one scared."
Aiah's throat tightened, but she forced a smirk. "Maybe kasi there's nothing to be scared of." Her voice was sharp, but the underlying breathlessness betrayed her.
The silence stretched between them, a delicate thread ready to snap. For a heartbeat, neither moved. Neither dared.
Then, just as quickly as it started, Mikha took a half-step back—walls flying back up, smirk fully intact. "Careful, Aiah," she said, her tone light but eyes still intense. "Baka masunog ka."
Aiah blinked, the air returning to her lungs. "Ikaw nga 'tong umatras," she shot back, forcing a laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her chest still felt tight, a tension that refused to fade.
Mikha scoffed softly, her gaze dropping momentarily to the floor as if grounding herself. "Masunog? Sa'yo?" she teased, the cockiness back in her voice. "Baka ikaw pa nga 'yung nag-iingat, Aiah."
Aiah laughed, sharp and quick. "Please, Mikha. You're the one who can't handle a little tension." She took a step forward, the challenge written clearly on her face.
Mikha met the step head-on, their faces now just a breath apart. "Oh, I can handle it," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Kaya mo ba?"
Aiah's gaze fell—just for a fraction of a second—to Mikha's lips. The air between them was thick, heavy. Neither moved, daring the other to be the first to flinch.
Aiah's pulse hammered in her ears, drowning out the muffled chatter of the bar. Her breath caught when Mikha tilted her head, the slightest shift that felt magnified by their proximity.
Then it happened—swift, accidental, but unmistakable. In the smallest misstep, their faces collided, lips brushing in a fleeting, unintended kiss.
Both of them froze, eyes wide, breath caught. The shock of it—the sharp, electric contact—lingered, an unspoken realization hanging heavy between them.
Aiah pulled back first, her heart beating erratically, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and disbelief. Mikha's expression was unreadable, torn between surprise and something else—something neither of them was prepared to confront.
"That—" Aiah's voice faltered, the cool facade crumbling for a split second. "That was—"
"Nothing," Mikha cut in, a slight tremor in her voice before she masked it with a laugh. "Relax, Aiah. You think I'd kiss you on purpose?"
Aiah's defenses immediately flared up, her face hot. "As if, Mikha. You wish."
Mikha let out a laugh, one that seemed strained yet defiant. She turned away quickly, grabbing a glass from the table and taking a long, deliberate sip. Aiah did the same, her mind still spinning, the memory of that accidental kiss searing itself into her thoughts.
As the night wound down and the bar's crowd thinned, their friends slowly trickled out, leaving Aiah and Mikha lingering awkwardly by the bar counter. The air between them was still heavy, the weight of the "accidental" kiss clinging stubbornly.
Jhoanna's voice cut through their silent standoff. "Oy, aalis na kami. Kaya niyo na 'yan, ha?" She waggled her brows, clearly hinting at something neither Aiah nor Mikha wanted to address.
"Yeah, sige. Ingat," Mikha muttered, her eyes briefly meeting Jhoanna’s before dropping to the ground. Gwen, Colet, Maloi, Sheena, and Stacey all offered their farewells, smirks and raised eyebrows aplenty. In a blink, they were left alone.
Aiah cleared her throat, forcing some semblance of casualness. "I think it's time to head home," she said, grabbing her bag. Her voice sounded strained, too deliberate.
"Yeah, same," Mikha replied, her tone unreadable.
They stepped out of the bar, the chill of the night biting at their flushed skin. The streetlights cast long, shadowy stretches on the pavement as they walked side by side—too close, too far, just not right.