“OH. MY. GOD.”
Mikha groaned as she stepped into the classroom, only to be greeted by their friends’ exaggerated gasps (mostly Stacey) and teasing grins. She didn’t even need to ask why—she already knew.
Naka-hoodie siya ngayon. Black, oversized, with a small embroidered logo sa may dibdib. And right across the room, sitting all relaxed at her desk, was Gwen. In the exact. Same. Hoodie.
“Di ko to kinaya,” Stacey snickered, elbowing Mikha. “May pa-couple hoodie kayo, beh?”
“Coincidence lang,” Mikha deadpanned. “Ang dami kayang may ganito.”
“Pero kayo lang dalawa ang naka-ganyan today,” their friend Jho added, wiggling her eyebrows.
Mikha rolled her eyes, annoyed at their friends’ assumptions. But what irritated her more was the fact that Gwen was completely unbothered. Nakangiti lang yung girl habang nagse-cellphone, as if she wasn’t hearing all the teasing.
“Hoy, Gwen,” Mikha called out, crossing her arms. “Di ka man lang ba naiinis? Para tayong nagpauso ng matching outfits dito.”
Gwen finally looked up and shrugged. “Bakit naman ako maiinis? Ang comfy kaya ng hoodie na to.”
Mikha clicked her tongue, sitting at her desk with a huff. She hated that Gwen had the same style as her. Pareho silang mahilig sa boyish, laid-back fits—hoodies, cargo pants, sneakers. And now, everyone was making a big deal out of it.
The following week…
Another day, another disaster.
Mikha’s jaw clenched as she entered the room and saw Gwen again, this time wearing the same exact football jersey as her.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath.
Right on cue, their friends erupted into teasing laughter.
“OKAY, UMAMIN NA KAYO!” Stacey practically squealed. “Ano na? Jersey niyo, pareho na naman!”
Jho gasped dramatically. “Matching clothes for two weeks straight? Hala, kayo na ba talaga?”
Mikha snapped.
She stormed towards Gwen’s desk, hands on her hips. “Hoy, Gwen. Ano to, ha? Gaya-gaya ka ba sa akin?!”
Gwen blinked, obviously taken aback. “Huh? Anong sinasabi mo?”
“Bakit lagi kitang kapareho ng suot?! Ang dami kayang ibang jersey, pero pareho pa rin tayo?!”
“Bakit? Ikaw lang ba pwede maging Jalen Hurts fan dito?” Gwen snickered, somehow annoyed.
“No, but you know what I mean.” Mikha answered back in a low voice.
Gwen let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Grabe ka naman. Wala tong meaning, Mikha. Nagkataon lang.”
“Ewan ko sayo,” Mikha huffed. “Nakakainis na.”
“Edi anong gusto mong gawin ko?” Gwen tilted her head.
Mikha crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. “Magbago ka ng style. Ayoko na ng ganito.”
And so, Gwen did.
By the next day, the shift was drastic. Gone were the hoodies and loose shirts. Instead, Gwen walked into class in a flowy pastel dress, her hair neatly styled with cute clips. She even had dainty accessories to match.
Everyone was shookt.
“OMG, Gwen! Ang ganda mo!” Stacey gushed, practically bouncing in her seat.
Even Jho whistled. “Sino to at anong ginawa niya kay Gwen?”
Mikha? Speechless.
Because damn, Gwen was pretty.
Not just pretty-pretty, but the kind that made Mikha’s stomach flip weirdly, the kind that made her stare just a little too long. But she pushed that thought away.
“Gwen, bakit biglang ganyan?” she asked instead, frowning.
Gwen smirked. “Sabi mo kasi, magbago ako ng style.”
Mikha clicked her tongue. “Di ko naman sinabing mag-dress ka.”
Gwen only shrugged. “Well, gusto ko to. Wag mo sabihing may problema pa rin?”
Mikha had no answer for that.
Days passed, and ‘Kikay Gwen’ became a thing.
She embraced her new look—skirts, dresses, cute cardigans. And she owned it. People kept complimenting her, and Mikha hated how much she noticed.
What she hated more was when Stacey started making remarks like—
“Hmmm… parang ang crushable ni Gwen ngayon, no?”
Or worse—
“Dapat yata ako na lang manligaw kay Gwen. Ang ganda eh!”
Mikha didn’t understand why her stomach twisted at that.
Not until she caught herself glaring at Stacey whenever she joked about pursuing Gwen. Not until she felt that annoying pang of jealousy whenever someone called Gwen pretty.
And then, just like that, realization hit her like a truck.
Oh.
Oh, sh*t.
Mikha liked Gwen.
And maybe—just maybe—she had all along.
So that day, after class, she found Gwen at her locker and blurted out—
“Okay, fine. Aminin ko na.”
Gwen raised a brow. “Aaminin mo na ano?”
Mikha exhaled sharply, looking anywhere but at Gwen. “Na gusto kita, okay?!”
Silence.
Then—soft laughter.
Mikha finally looked up, her face burning. “Ano’ng nakakatawa?!”
Gwen grinned, leaning against the locker. “Wala lang. Ang cute mo kasi.”
Mikha scowled. “Ano—”
“Matagal na kitang gusto, Mikha,” Gwen admitted, crossing her arms. “Kaya di naman big deal sa akin kahit magkapareho tayo ng style dati. Pero since ayaw mo noon, sinubukan kong mag-iba.”
Mikha’s jaw dropped. “Wait—what?”
Gwen chuckled, stepping closer. “Pero alam mo, mas gusto ko yung ganito. At least ngayon, alam kong gusto mo rin ako.”
Mikha groaned, covering her face. “Nakakainis ka.”
Gwen only laughed, nudging her playfully. “So pwede na tayo mag-suot ng totoong couple shirt?”
And this time, Mikha didn’t hate the idea and didn’t argue.