Hayge has no idea why she's here. This is her breaking her own rules. There are too many people in here; too many intoxicated excited people dancing their drunken asses off like no one else is around. This is not her scene at all. And what's this drink the bartender just gave her? Gasoline? Is he trying to burn her throat to death? Hayge winces as she swallows it down straight. Better to get it over with once and for all. Being a lightweight is not an impressive trait when you're at a swamped, juvenile party like this, and she's just not in the mood for all the obligatory teases.
She strains her neck, examining the crowd, her eyes panning over to almost everyone. Taz is nowhere in sight, Taz who ungraciously left her by the bar to look around for her boyfriend, the birthday boy. Now she's sitting here all by herself with an empty glass that Mr. Bartender is more than willing to refill. This is the very reason why she doesn't see the big deal in bar parties. It's all loud music, bumping sweaty bodies, and murderous alcohol. If you want someplace where you can chill, relax, and engage in conversations, this is not the place to go. Now, if you want to impair your hearing, burn your throat, and heat your loins, then be its guest.
"Haygee!"
Hayge turns around in her seat to find Taz emerging out of the crowd, tagging someone behind her. Oh, wait, that someone looks familiar. No, scratch that. Very, very, very familiar.
He's Dimple Head. What's Dimple Head doing here?
"I want you to meet my boyfriend." She gushes, smiling just in time for Hayge to let it all sink in. "Joe, this is Haygee, she works for our company, and Haygee, this is Joe, he works for me."
Joe giggles at Taz as he extends his hand. "Hi, Haygee. So glad you could come. And no, I don't work for her."
There's something weird about coming face-to-face with someone you've only watched twenty meters away from you. Hayge tries to act complacent and returns his handshake. "Happy birthday, Joe. And I had to come here, Taz would've killed me on the spot otherwise."
"Aww, I didn't know you had a sense of humor, Haygee." Taz laughs along with Joe and loops her arm around his own.
Then the unmistakable intro to the song "Love in this Club" song blasts through the giant speakers and Taz turns to Joe with ecstatic eyes. "Oh, that's our jam, babe! Come on, let's dance."
"Are you sure you're gonna leave your friend here?" He hesitates as Taz tugs on his arms.
"She's a big girl, she can take care of herself." Taz winks at Hayge. "Right, Haygee?"
Hayge feigns a big smile. "Sure."
"See? Now, come here and shake your cute little butt with me." Joe shrugs at Hayge with a sheepish, close-mouthed smile and lets Taz pull him to the crowd with her.
"What a small world" would be the best thing to say right about now.
Dimple Head's name is Joe. He has a cute laugh, and he is Taz's boyfriend. And his dimple looks cuter in close-up.
Must she tell Taz she's been spying on her boyfriend, along with his other friends, on Thursday afternoons for the last five months? Speaking of which, if it's Dimple He—Joe's birthday, then Short Stuff, Chocolate Man, Neighbor Guy, Big Smile, Droopy Snoopy and Cutie McHottie must be here, too. And maybe they're the "friends" that Taz said threw him this party.
OMG. She rarely says that immature abbreviation, but she will now. OMG. Or better yet, OMFG.
Like a mini parade, six recognizable men come waltzing in the room, making Hayge repeat OMG a million times in her head, multiplied by a thousand. It's them. All of six them, Dimple Head aside. They're here. And not to play basketball. They're all in their stylish clothes, wearing auspiciously pleasant faces, laughing and hooting like the rest of the guests. And Hayge gulps, feeling the urge to melt and disappear.
And then Cutie McHottie looks her way. He's looking her way. And his relaxed demeanor morphs into something else once their eyes connect. Hayge can't seem to pin it down, but there's something devotedly ashen in his face, as though he's just seen a ghost. Does she really appear that darnedly ruffled right now?
He looks away just as Droopy Snoopy whispers something into his ear and steals his attention altogether.
Oh, boy. Some night this is turning out to be.
***2***
The club is packed tonight. Honey didn't know Joe has this many friends, or maybe, these are all Phil's friends, ex-girlfriends included. He was the one in charge with the guest list. Figures since people started cheering when he got inside the vicinity. Phil, of course, got them the best seats in the house, crowing over and over that he was the one who was making all of this possible while the others refused to help. Ben, Rynan and Chris threatened to strangle him.
Honey struggles to keep a straight face as women after women flutter their fake eyelash extensions at Phi while he passes them by. He flashes them a modest smile every now and then, doing that courteous little bow that, in Honey's opinion, is too wholesome to pass for anything. That's his Vietnamese heritage showing through. Maybe he doesn't realize the girls are asking to be felt up, not be kissed on the forehead.
The ladies dig Phi, as Phil puts it, and who is Honey to disagree to that? She witnesses how much of a diggable guy he is the moment she opens her eyes in the morning to the moment she closes them at night. Imagine her agony, being with him that often wanting him that much. It's a curse.
"Had I known you guys would be throwing me a surprise party, I would've cancelled the reservation I made at Rendezvous." Joe says, sipping on his beer. "This night was supposed to be our night." He says to Taz, his girlfriend, desperately, who's seated next to him, shrugging.
"Why, you are welcome, Mister Larot, sir." Phil chides sarcastically. "After all the hard work we had to put in to make all this possible, that's all we needed to hear from you. You're too sweet, though. A quick "eat shit" would've been rewarding enough."
"Relax, Phil." Joe rolls his eyes, laughing a little. "I'm not saying this isn't fun at all. I just wish you could've forewarned me a bit so I didn't have to call all the way to Los Angeles for the trip… But it's all good!" Joe spurts out nervously as six pairs of eyes flash him dark, dangerous looks. "At least I have you guys with me… and those other people…" His eyebrows meet as he looks over the crowd. "Wow, I never I realized I knew this many people."
"Blame Phil and stupid guest list." Ben says. "See? What did I tell you? You invite one person, and that person tags long another person, who tags along other persons, who will call other persons to come along with them. And this is what you get, a whole crowd of strangers grinding against each other on the dance floor."
"Guys, guys, incoming." Chris hisses under his breath, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively. Honey sighs away as a group of model-esque girls in mini-skirts and scandalous tops walks by their table, giving their curvaceous hips an extra sway.
"Who are those?" Ben asks quietly, his deep, booming voice almost causing a mild vibration in their table.
"Blame Phil and his stupid guest list, huh?" Phil smiles smugly, all arrogance evident on his too-perfect face.
Ben's eyes trail after the women's retreating curves and he chooses to ignore Phil's inane comment. Instead he gets to his feet and bites his bottom lip in a decisive manner. "If you can excuse me, gentleman, I have something important to attend to."
One would think Ben was the shy, laid-back type. But in truth? Nahhh.
"Hey, don't go without me, dude!" Chris gets to his feet and rushes after Ben.
"What about you, Rynan? What's your plan?" Phil asks.
"What do you mean what's my plan?"
"You're the only single guy left. Why don't you go fish some of those hot catch yourself?"
"Nah, I'd rather… um…" Rynan purses his lips, contemplating. "Hey, man, can I talk to you for a second?" He clears his throat, "In private?"
Phil gives him a surprised look but shrugs it off. "Yeah, sure."
Joe and Taz exchange questioning stares as Rynan and Phil stand up to go somewhere for their little alone time, leaving Joe, Taz, Kevin, Phi, Honey and the new girl – what'shername – Phil's date, to be safe, behind. Sometimes with the intimidating number of Phil's girlfriends, it's sometimes hard to keep up with the names.
"So, how long have you guys been together?" She asks, breaking the momentary silence.
"Three years." Taz jumps in proudly. "Ain't that right, Joe?"
"Three years and three months, give and take a few days." He corrects, beaming at his girl.
Joe and Taz are, what one can say, a happy couple. They love, laugh, fight and make up all for the right reasons. Must be nice to have someone like that at your disposal. Hah.
"But I'm not talking to you." Unknown Girl clarifies. "I'm talking to them."
"Us?" Phi and Honey ask in chorus, eyeing her pointed finger at them curiously.
"Yeah, how long have you been seeing each other? Phil's told me you guys live together."
Phi gives Honey a frantic, clueless look, as though begging her to burst the bubble. She gulps. "Uh, well, Phi and I are not together."
"What?"
"We're not dating." Phi supplies.
"No?" Unknown-turned-nosy-girl asks. "But you do live together, right?"
"Yes, as roommates." Honey stresses, and Phi nods along.
"What? So you're telling me you are living in the same house but you're not… seeing each other? How is that possible?"
Awkward moment. This is one of those difficult, haunting questions that Honey tries to avoid as much as possible. Because how is it that two people belonging to opposite sexes can stay under one roof and maintain the non-romantic, non-sexual, platonic vibe, especially when you've living with someone like the one sitting next to her right now? Honey, in a number of occasions, fights the temptation to answer, "Because I have an unimaginably strong self-restraint."
"You're not gay, are you?" She whispers closely to Phi.
Phi laughs and shakes his head. "No. No. I'm not. I am happily committed to a girl."
"Ohhhhh…." Ms. Nosy says, "Married?"
Honey looks nervously at Phi from the corner of her eyes.
"No… But uh, who knows, right?" Phi shrugs noncommittally.
"Right." Finally awkward moment is over.
But hurt moment is not. For awhile there Honey fantasizes that the unnamed girl would ask her that same question, and she'd be all like, "four years, right, sweetie?" And Phi would nod his head fondly, and gaze at her like they were the only two people in the room. But they're living in a real world right now, and in the real world, Phi is in love with an actress, slash, model, and has a plain-looking roommate who works in a French restaurant on weekdays and organizes a pet-store on weekends for a living.
"You wanna dance?" Joe asks Taz, pulling her hands.
"Do I ever?"
The couple is on the dance floor in no time. Kevin is talking on the phone and putting one finger over his ear to drown out the overwhelming booms of the speakers. Then he snaps his phone shut and sighs. "Well, it looks like I won't be here to enjoy the rest of the night's fun."
"What? Why?" Phi asks.
"Zeke woke up and cried when he sensed I wasn't there. Cher is freaking out like crazy. Bottom line is: I gotta go. Tell the birthday boy I'm heading out, aight?" Phi has no time to even say anything before Kevin grabs his coat and dashes away, leaving them in the dust.
"Guess it's just the three of us, then, huh?" Honey comments randomly, looking around the almost-empty table that used to be occupied on all possible corners.
"I'm going to the ladies' room." Little Miss Blondie gets up from her seat, and leaves Phi and Honey listening to the cricket sounds. She can literally hear them.
"What a party. It's no fun when your friends are out their living their own little world." Phi sulks, and Honey reads from his eyes that he's probably missing Tara and wishing she was here. And what would that do to her exactly if that woman came along? Tara and Phi would be joining the others at the dance floor by now, and she would be left here all by herself, sipping on her strawberry cocktail alone. Geez. That would be some real slap on the face.
"You wanna join 'em?" Phi points at Joe and Taz, and everyone else grinding in the crowd, and a lazy smile slowly paints on her lips. Let the festivities begin.
"Let's go."
***3***
"Rynan, you gotta calm the heck down if you want to make a move on her."
Rynan wipes the sweat beads forming in his forehead, his stomach doing nasty flares and back flips. "I don't know if I'm up for this, man."
"No, no, no, you are not gonna chicken out on this one." Phil demands. "You've gone 'quack-quack' too many times before, and you are not gonna do the same thing tonight. Look at her, man, she's by herself. She needs you."
Rynan steals one good glimpse at her behind his shoulder while she cluelessly sits by the bar alone, casually observing the boisterous people around her, and averts his eyes away almost instantly. "Who brought her here anyway?"
"I don't know. Who cares? What's important is that she decided to come, and that is, without a date." Phil talks closely by his ear. "Don't you see her, man? She's begging to be noticed."
"No, she's not." Rynan is no mind-reader, but he can tell that she, the mystery woman, the woman on the next building, the woman who's unexplainably caught so much of his interest, albeit secretly, for months now, and turns up unexpectedly on Joe's birthday party, looks like this club is her last stop on earth. He can see the uneasiness in her actions, the agitation, like she's ready to jump out of here anytime soon. And Rynan hasn't made up his mind yet whether he'd let that happen before he could even say a quick 'hi' to her or not. Phil is fighting for the latter.
Phil scoffs, shaking his head in mild disbelief. "I know how women operate, man. Trust me, I've been in the business for too long. Girls like this? They have a secret to hide. They're all meek and shy, drinking a glass of the good ol' Cosmo looking like they just got back from the convent, but do you know what's really in their head?"
"What?"
"That's… what I want you to find out." Phil points out. "Now, I want you to go there, get to know her a little bit more, and get this whole stalking thing over with once and for all."
Rynan buries his face in his hands as a wave of nerve pulls his head down to the table. He can't do it. He's not as socially competent and debonair as Phil, who can charm the panties off of the women he has an eye for. No, people might perceive him that way, but deep inside all the bubbliness and the confidence, lies a timid little man. Man, did he just rephrase what Phil said to him this afternoon?
"Just relax, Rynan. Breathe. You're a desirable man; anyone would be crazy not to give in to your charms."
"Are you sure I'm talking to my friend, Phil, here?"
Phil chuckles shyly. "I've always had a man-crush on you, man. No homo."
"Stop that. You're freaking me out." Rynan warns, flinching.
"My point is there's really nothing to lose. Because if you go out there and make a good impression of yourself, then kabam, all your problems are gone…"
"What I if I go out there and make a total fool of myself? What, then, huh?" Rynan asks desperately.
"There will still be tons of women who will be waiting for you with open arms, or legs, if you may."
"This is not funny, Phil. I really wanna get to know her, you know." Rynan hates the pleading sound in his voice. "I'm tired of looking at her everyday without her aware that I exist. I'm tired of spying on her from a distance, and not even hear her voice. I wanna know who she is. Who is this mysterious woman across my building? And geez, she's like only a few feet away from me right now, and uhhh… I think I'm coming down with something. Ano ba, ha?"
Phil smiles self-assuringly, knowing he's already won. "Losing is better than not trying at all. You wanna do it or not?"
Normally, Rynan would say 'fuck no." But this is not normal. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Rynan gets off the bar stool and heaves a long, deep breath. God help him he's really gonna do it.
"I'mma give you an advice, though: pretend like she's already naked when you're still in the process of undressing her."
Phil and his sexual riddles. They're always a mystery, but Rynan is thinking this means to act smug and arrogant. In Phil's book, that's the most attractive trait that a woman can possibly salivate over in a man – his ability to take control and handle the ropes. If smug she wants, it's smug she gets.
Oh, well, here goes nothing.
***4***
Okay, that's it. She's leaving. It's been a great pleasure witnessing minors and adults alike exercising all that is wrong in humanity today, but it's way past her bedtime and she'd love to spend the remaining hours of the night in her comfortable bed. Plus, she has never seen Cutie McHottie around ever since, so whether or not that's a good thing, she renders this night a failure, all the what-if's and the could've's playing in her mind. She has been in the same room with the guy for at least two hours, three if you count the imaginary extra hour that Hayge has added in her head, and had she been the forward type, she would've run into Cutie McHottie's arms in that slow-mo, movie-ish kind of way, and profess the guilty attraction she's been feeling irrevocably about him. But Hayge is the last woman on earth who can pull off something like that. And not only that, this whole thing is just… plain… weird, and absolutely subject to anyone's ridicule. Because how are you supposed to feel any strong emotion for someone you've never even talked to before, let alone known his name? That's not a normal human brain activity and anyone would be a fool to believe that it's happening to her. She's freaking in love with a stranger! Or is it really love? She should see a therapist.
Maybe there's someone out there right now experiencing this same kind of dilemma. Why, she'd love to meet that someone. Maybe they can get married, buy a house in the countryside, and have voyeuristic kids who are also predisposed to spying on beautiful strangers and falling in love with them. Huh. She would've laughed at her own anecdote if she isn't feeling so worthless right now.
She grabs her purse resting on the counter, and is about to head out when a man's voice behind her stops her in her tracks.
"Are you a friend of the celebrant?"
She turns around and her heart almost stops. It happens like a dream. All hazy and cloudy.
It feels like an out-of-body experience as she comes toe-to-toe with Cutie McHottie. His eyes look deeper up close, more drowning, caramel in color… and his heart-shaped lips look like red candies piled on top of each other, ready to be licked on and sucked. It's almost scary. And did he just talk to her?
Oh, he asked her a question. Now, if she can just remember what it was…
"Well, are you?"
And oh, he has long, thick eyelashes, too, that seem to go on and on forever. And he's batting them at her now. Hayge feels a tremor in her stomach, an earthquake in her racing heart, and an obstruction in her throat. Now is not the time to get a blockage.
"Are you always this quiet?" He laughs a little, a flirtatious kind. Even his laugh is sexy. If Hayge should ever face her innermost fears and slay them with her only sword, now is that time.
"Um… I'm not." She takes a chance. She doesn't really know what she's disagreeing to.
"I'm Rynan." He extends his hand in one suave movement, leaving Hayge staring at it with an agape mouth for several seconds.
You're supposed to take it, you idiot! Then she awakes and clamps his hand with her own. "Hayge."
"Hayge… Wow. What a pretty name for such a pretty girl."
Okay, now say something. "It's one of a kind."
"I'm sure it is." Rynan, Cutie McHottie, Rynan, Cutie McHottie, whatever, this delightful creature has this whole smoldering thing going on, with hooded eyes and parted lips. What is he doing to her? Is she in a dream?
"So, what brings you here… Hayge?"
Did he just moan her name? Hayge tries to look for some semblance of support as her hand reaches for the counter behind her. Her knees are so weak they're gonna buck at any second. "Taz brought me here."
"Oh, Taz. Of course. You a friend of hers?"
"Co-worker."
"Ah, I see." For a second there, Hayge can see the innocence behind his dangerous, blazing eyes. Something lurks underneath them, like a look of wonderment, stupefaction. And then, in a blink of an eye, the bedroom come-hither look returns.
"You look familiar, Hayge…." He walks closer to her with a languid strut, leaning against the counter a little too confidently. "Did we sleep together before?"
And then just like that, all feeling of perilous attraction and lust disappear from Hayge's senses. And it's a sickening, quick kind of transition, as if all the clutter and dirt in her mind are vacuumed out clean, but leave it still filthy in the hidden corners. Is this guy insane? Yes, he is incredibly hot, yes, he is unforgivably sexy, with arms that have just the exact ripeness in them, but no… he has no right asking any woman such an offensive question. Her overheating light bulb just got turned off, so to speak.
Just. Like. That. They're all gone.
Funny how five months of struggling to make sure her Thursdays are vacant will result to this. Not really.
"Excuse me?" Hayge gasps, the insult in her voice evident.
"Uh… but I could be wrong…" Cutie Mchot- no, Hayge refuses to call him that now, Rynan, as this jerk refers to himself, blinks innocently, as though that would redeem him. Wrong. "It's just that you look like someone I'd want to get on top of… or under, or behind… who knows?"
Oh! Insert horrified gasps here. This guy really thinks he can get away with anything just because he's endowed with natural drool-worthy good looks? Screw good looks. This guy is a freaking asshole, a sexy, kissable freaking asshole and Hayge has ground low tolerance for that.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested." She says with a sharp, brave voice, glaring at him with an appalled expression.
"But of course, there was no way I could've have slept with you. Good-girl librarians were not exactly my type back then."
More gasps. Hayge feels as though she just lost her virginity to this guy's infinite horrendousness.
"But I'm open to broadening my horizons. Interested?"
Seriously Hayge cannot wrap it in her hand how this guy is coming around. Has he no idea he's scaring, offending, and assaulting the living daylights out of her, all at once?
"I don't know who you think you are, but let me tell you one thing, pal, I'm most definitely not who you think I am." Hayge points menacingly her finger at his chest, spitting the words out of her mouth. "I think you're mistaking me for someone who would be stupid enough to even consider getting to know you."
"Ooh… Playing hard-to-get, are we?"
Revolted beyond belief, Hayge decides to turn and leave. It was hell on her nerves not to just lift her hand and slap him on the face, but Hayge was a refined woman who understood how physical violence won't resolve anything.
If he were any other guy, Hayge would've not allowed herself to feel this much disillusionment over something as frequent as being hit on by drunken morons in a smoky night club, albeit very lousily, but he isn't. He's Cutie McHottie. He's Hayge's subject of desire even if it's beyond the norms of the social etiquette. He's Hayge's… knight in shining armor.
Former knight in shining armor.
She must be dreaming. This must be Cutie McHottie's evil twin. She couldn't possibly have been this much of an imbecile to believe this guy was someone he was clearly not. She was creating this whole perfect little version of this man that is nothing but an illusion. This moment feels like a bucket of ice-cold water is splashed right into her face.
She finds her way out, walking and bumping past people, and curses this night and the many previous Thursdays that she turned into a fool.
***5***
Some graphic, dirty song is playing and Honey lets herself get lost into the beat of the music, moving her body in sync with the rhythm. She looks over her shoulder to find Chris rubbing himself against her back, drunken as hell, to her right is Phil, dancing fluidly with his date, and in front of her is Ben, who is leisurely checking out her gifted bearings. Oh, boys. They just can't help themselves when they're in the moment. Honey doesn't stop him, instead he loops her arms around his neck seductively and presses her body closer, encouraging him even more. She and Ben have always had a thing, it's nothing serious. But they have eyes for each other. Whatever that is, it's there.
And whatever it is, it's nothing compared to the weight of whatever she feels about Phi, Phi who is right now dancing on his own, merely getting with the flow and the movement of the crowd. Phi is a hard catch, an exclusive individual. He doesn't offer himself freely to the next person he sees. Tara is so lucky – and this can never be overemphasized.
Chris pushes against her back, the movement jerking her even closer to Ben, her feminine bulges crushed, and Honey finds herself sandwiched between two incredibly horny men. She dismisses it and continues to dance, all her reservations gone.
Something stirs and Honey looks up to see two women in conservative pieces of clothing making a move on Ben and Chris, inviting them with their gyrating hips, before the two men give into their insane curvatures and lengthy, sumptuous legs, and maneuver themselves away, leaving Honey without a partner. Another "oh, boy" moment, a concrete evidence of how men love to jump from one girl to another if a prettier one comes along. She can't really care less though; she understands perfectly how she's no match for these statuesque Terpsichore's. So she ignores the empty feeling and resolves to moving on her own. In a way, the atmosphere seems more relaxed, less pressured.
Then slowly she feels two strong arms encircle her from behind, hands gripping her hips. Only one man touches her that way, only one man wears that intoxicating cologne. She swivels around and finds Phi's face inches from hers. He's giving her a genteel smile while his eyes remain focused solely on hers. Honey's breath hitches as her mind races to digest what just happened. Phi's clutch on her feels protective, caring. He holds her gently against him, his affectionate eyes conveying secret promises.
Then his hands travel sinuously up and down her back, making her spine rattle at the sensation. She gasps.
Doesn't Phi know any action from him bears with it a consequence to Honey's body?
"Tworking it out, we're hanging in the club,
Kissing and rubbing and making sweet love,
Damn the club tonight, let's twork it out,
Just me on you, from 11 to 6 in the morning,
I know you like it when I do you like that,
Let's twork it out…"
Honey turns around, her back on him, Phi's warm, rhythmic breath on her neck tugging her eyelids down. Her hips work against his, their bodies moving together, his hands nimbly pulling her skirt up and groping her bare legs possessively. Honey's skin amalgamates at every hypnotic touch, losing her womanhood completely into the music and him. She reaches out behind her and holds his head steadily as her own head rests against his shoulder, her nose nuzzling the soft skin on his neck. She can feel the erotic press of his crotch against her butt and her knees weaken, bucking. Honey has no idea how it got to this, but hell, this feels way too good to let her mature senses take over now.
Phi knows how the exact pressure to put on a woman, not too firm, yet not to loose, not too rough, yet not too flat, just enough force to make a woman feel good and ignited. He knows how to take control of the situation, lead her to the beat of the song, but at the same time, having the manly courtesy to listen to and fulfill her body's requests.
It's wrong to be strongly aroused by this. Phi is just being a good friend, extending a hand for a lonely, loveless friend in need. But Honey can't stop herself from overheating, from turning her body into a sheath of sensitized, giant nerve endings. She feels feverish, flushed in all the right places, and there's an aching tug on her belly, that runs lower and lower by the second. Phi's hand on her thigh is not helping at all.
After too much grinding and popping, the song ends and she spins around, so that their eyes meet. Phi looks almost perfect in this lighting, with flushed cheeks and parted, pouty lips. Honey's mouth feels dry, a perfect indication that it was open for too long. Who can possibly close their mouths anyway when they're in heaven? Phi's own heaven, to be exact.
He flashes her a wide smile, that elaborately toothy smile that is only meant for her. It reminds her that he's still the old Phi, the Phi who's nothing but a platonic roommate, and a possession of another woman's heart, despite of all the hip-grinding, leg-grabbing foreplay they did just a while ago. Honey manages a smile back, and places her arms over his shoulder as a mellow, sad song comes on.
They've gone from passionate, flamed body rocking, to sweet, romantic embracing. Phi's hands now are innocently wrapped around her waist, while her arms around his neck, and Honey closes her eyes, head resting on his shoulder, and feels his every heart beat.
"I used to think that I wasn't fun enough,
And I used to think I wasn't wild enough,
But I won't waste my time trying to figure out,
Why you're playing games, what's this all about,
And I can't believe you're hurting me,
I met you girl, what a difference,
What you see in her, you ain't seen in me,
But I guess it was all just make-believe…"
Honey clings tightly as a warm tear trickles down her cheek, needing to revel in this moment, in this particular moment when Phi's holding her close, making her feel like he's hers, and she's his, even just for a while. No need to think of the painful truth at that second, because Phi's here with her right now, dancing under the lights when the rest of the world is living their chaotic lives outside.
"Love, never knew what I was missing,
But I knew, once we start kissing, I found…
Love, never knew what I was missing,
But I knew, once we start kissing, I found…
I found you…"
Yes, Honey finds him. Honey finds him everywhere she looks. If there was only a way to erase an emotion, she'd definitely erase this one. Erase it and keep it at least a million kilometers away from her. Or maybe that's still too near? Unrequited love and requited love look almost identical on paper, but in the actual life? Unrequited love isn't nearly as fun as she knows the other one must be. She's sure Tara understands her view perfectly.
"Tara…" Phi gasps under his breath.
"No, Phi, it's Honey, your homebuddy." Honey mumbles against Phi's shoulder, disappointed to find his hands loosening around her waist. "See the hair? It's different."
"No…" Phi chuckles, "I mean, it's Tara, she showed up."
Oh. Honey looks over the direction of Phi's eyes and feels her heart sink as Tara waltz in through the crowd, all beautiful and Tara-ed up. Honey can see the people's heads turning in her direction as well. Tara is a consuming individual. She carries around this overwhelming presence that leaves everyone looking her way. And damn, Honey finds her so elegantly striking tonight. And yes, sadly, Phi seems to agree. There's a love-struck sparkle in his eyes now that wasn't there before.
Honey does an obligatory step backward, as though giving the new comer some room, and jerks slightly by a glowering "hey, watch where you're going, lady!" horned into her ears. Must have stepped on a foot.
Tara saunters gracefully over to Phi, and waits no second before wrapping two long arms around his neck. "I told you I could make it." She says, tainting a dreamy, sultry drawl on her voice.
"I'm sorry…" He rests his forehead against hers, hands on her waist.
"You should be."
"I guess I just have to make it up to you then."
"Don't worry; we've got the whole night ahead of us." Her words are heavy with implications that Honey didn't have to hear.
Phi says nothing but kisses her ear, whispering "You look beautiful, Tara."
Honey looks at the floor to avoid witnessing the kiss that was sure to follow. Phi tends to… forget himself, and that there's a roomful of people within eyeshot that can see them snogging each other. Even forgets that he still owes Honey a dance.
She spins around, not really knowing what to do and where to go next, seeing as Phi's attention is rather undivided at the moment, until her eyes halt at Joe, Chris and Ben chugging drinks down at the bar. She weighs her options. One the one hand, Honey's not much of a hard drinker. One the other… well, there's a slim chance, if nothing, that Phi and Tara are gonna let up with the kissfest soon.
Not much of a hard drinker, eh? To hell with it.
***6***
"I panicked."
No response.
"I panicked, man."
Still no response.
"Phil!"
Phil closes his mouth once he recovers and shakes his head as incredulously as he intends to. "I believe don't you, Rynan."
Rynan sinks down in his chair and wallows in his truly award-worthy, classic defeat. Wuss would be an understatement for the little, scared monster that dwells so indefatigably in him. He wants to squish that monster.
"So, let me get this straight." Phil clears his throat. "Not only did you make a horrible, horrible ass out of yourself, which is offensive enough to begin with, by the way, but you also called her a librarian? I mean… that's even worse than the 'dogface' you used last year at the Christmas party with that hottie from my work."
"You keep track of my epic fails?"
"Do you realize the weight of the situation here?"
"Of course."
"You just blew it, Rynan. Blew it like a lousy, seventy-year-old virgin who's lived his life blowing it and blowing it some more."
"That's a way to put it."
"Irreparable damage. Irreparable damage." Phil begins to chant.
"Well, you told me to act smug, didn't you? You were the one who gave me the tip!" Rynan exclaims, in the hope of salvaging some of his dignity.
Phil narrows his eyes at him with that serious look that says he means business. "Listen here, pal, first of all, I don't use the word 'smug' and use it to replace 'confident', that's like substituting phone sex for the real thing. Second of all, even if I did say 'smug', what you did back there wasn't smug at all. It was sexual assault."
"You think I overdid it?"
"Do I think you overdid it?" Phil laughs in disbelief, swallowing down the tequila in one, big gulp. "You are a piece of work, you know that?"
"Look, I know, I know, I totally screwed up. And you know whose fault it is?"
"Uh…. Yours?"
"No, it's your fault, Phil!" Rynan points his finger at Phil's chest, earning a shocked glare from Phil.
"My fault? Hey, you were the one who went out there and made that ass of an impression on her, not me."
"But you were the one who made me do it!"
Phil scoffs and shakes his head. "Yeah, I blame myself for that, too. I guess I didn't realize the extent of your social incompetence, which is now, I render, hopeless."
Rynan bangs his head against the bar counter, causing a few heads to turn. Phil was right. He's hopeless. He just wanted to do things right, but has done it all horribly wrong. He wouldn't be surprised if mystery girl will make the run for her life and stagger away from him if they ever run into each other somewhere around the city. He knows he would run from someone like him, or rather, from that presumptuous, promiscuous jerk he just turned into a while ago. His nerves can make him do a lot of things.
"Don't worry, man. This is a sign."
"A sign?" He talks into the hollow that his folded arms have looped into, head still buried in them, voice muffled.
"Yeah, a sign." Phil says, a light in his voice. "That this girl is obviously not for you, and maybe, somewhere out there, someone better awaits."
"You really think so?"
"Rynan, I never think. I know."
He lifts his head up and looks at Phil considerately. "But how I can get over her? That poor thing… I said so many things to her… so many horrible things…"
"Yeah, yeah, I know." Phil pats Rynan's back soothingly. "How can I not when it took you three times telling it without breaking down?"
"Have I just lost my chance, Phil?"
"You may just have, poor buddy. But no need to fret, like I said, you have a whole ocean of fresh fish waiting for you." Phil consoles. "Now all you have to do is dangle the bait."
Rynan thinks he's inconsolable at the moment. No salmon or catfish can cheer him up now. Not when he just scared away the only woman that has been on his mind for Heaven knows how long. He had one chance, and he lost it.
Rynan almost chokes on his drink when he feels Joe's hand slam into his back, the force causing him to slightly jerk forward, "Hey, guys, it's my birthday… why the long faces?"
"Rynan just got turned down." Phil announces, somewhat even proudly. If Rynan had the energy, he would've been more than willing to clock him.
"Aww, poor baby." Joe positions himself between them, signaling the bartender to bring on the goods. "That is exactly what this crazy alcohol is for. Tequila everyone?"
Rynan winces and shakes his head. "I don't think I'm up for that right now."
"Bullshit!" Joe and Phil chorus loudly.
"It's exactly what you need right now." Joe hands him a shot glass.
"Joe…"
"It's my birthday, Rynan. I'm calling the shots tonight. And all I am asking you to do is chug this down." Joe says. "You're lucky I'm not requesting for a lap dance." Phil and Rynan laugh as Joe winks seductively at an approaching Phi.
"No way… you corrupted the kid?"
"I'm not a kid, Phil." Phi says defiantly as he adds to their little huddle of three. "Beer for me, please." He says to the bartender. Then he turns to his friends. "You're way younger than I am."
"Yeah, but judging by experience and well, penis size, you're pretty much a six-year-old girl with pigtails."
"Ha-ha-ha!" Phi mock-laughs as the guys high-five in that crazy, rowdy hullabaloo.
"So where's your girl?"
"She just left."
"What?" Joe shakes his head. "She's been here for barely five minutes."
"She has an early flight to New York tomorrow."
"Oh, well, life of a celebrity. What's new?"Rynan comments in the background, still contemplating on the tequila Joe forced into his hand.
"It looks like you and Rynan are not getting any tonight, then." Phil seems to be enjoying reminding them how wretched their romantic life is at the moment.
"What? What happened to you, Kid?" Phi turns to a forlorn, sulking Rynan.
"He got turned down." Joe and Phil tell him in unison.
"Aww." Phi says. "Well that makes us the two of us!" He grabs the tiny shot glass from the counter and raises it as though to make a toast. "To celibacy!"
Rynan echoes, "To celibacy!"
"Amen!" Joe raises his glass.
"Hallelujah!" Phil adds.
"Happy birthday to me!"
"Merry Christmas!"
Phi and Rynan gulp down the tequila in one, straight chug and have their faces grimacing at the sinfully strong taste.
"I don't know how you do it, Phil." Rynan grapples for the lemon dice and sucks it into his mouth.
"I'll just stick to beer." Phi pants and caresses his throat.
"You ladies are a bunch of lightweights!" Phil hits them on the shoulder. "Honey can do better than you."
"Honey?" Phi asks, eyebrows meeting. "Honey's been drinking?"
Phil points behind them and Phi spins around to see Honey, Chris and Ben doing shots, frigging tequila shots. That's not good. "I can't believe you let her loose with the alcohol."
"Oh, Phi, come on, she's a big girl. She can handle herself. At least she's man enough to do eight shots in a row."
"Eight shots in a row?" Phi exclaims. "Eight?"
"Otso."
"Walo." Rynan jumps in absentmindedly.
Phi shakes his head. "That's gonna suck once she wakes up tomorrow."
Phil lifts his glass and says, a little tipsy himself, "To Honey, who drinks oh, so bravely in the midst of all the sissies, namely Phi and Rynan, that surround her."
"To Honey!"
"To Joe, who just celebrated his twenty-eighth year in Motherland and continues to amuse us with his refusal to believe that I'm the hottest one among us."
"To Joe!"
"To Phil," This time Joe makes the toast, "who changes his girlfriends as frequently as he changes his socks, and who is not the hottest one among us, since the title already belongs to someone who rightfully deserves it, and that is, to me."
"To Phil!"
"To Rynan, who just met Mystery Girl in the flesh tonight and scared her away."
Double-take then silence. Rynan gulps nervously and dares to lift his eyes to meet two of his friends gawking at him. Great. Phil deserves a Nobel Prize.
"You met her?
"When?
"How?
"Where is she now?"
"Mystery girl turned you down?"
"Why didn't you tell us?"
Rynan covers his face and buries himself further down the chair. He'll never hear the end of this. Never.
***7***
"Thanks for the ride, man."
"You sure you don't need help with her?"
Phi looks behind him and sees Honey passed out on the backseat, murmuring gibberish here and there, eyes closed. He's thankful she hasn't thrown up on Rynan's car, which has been his fear the whole ride from the club. He has never seen her this… how do you put it… shit-faced before, unable to even stand upright without off-balancing to the side, let alone walk on her own two feet, which are uneven in length to begin with. He and Rynan have tag-teamed in dragging her away from the bar, where she stubbornly pushed them away and called them names at first, as if to order them to leave her and her tequila alone in peace, and by some miracle, managed in carrying her to the car. Phi felt obligated to answer all the questioning looks people threw their way; he didn't wanna them to appear like rapists who slipped something in her drink. He would chuckle nervously and explain, "Drunken roommate." People in America do seem to understand thankfully, and ask no more.
He doesn't see her get drunk that much, and he still wonders what brought it tonight. Because it did seem like she was so intent on winning tonight's title for Most Alcohol Consumed. There's no drinking Phil under the table; that guy has throat and lungs of steel, but to everyone's surprise, Honey beat him tonight by a glass. By that time, Honey was so wasted that she started singing the national anthem in a slur of tangled words while Phi held and stood by her. Phil nobly congratulated her and said, "You're more of a challenge than these chicks with dicks." He motioned to Phi and Rynan, who were already too tired to get even with him. They weren't gonna argue with him any other day, anyway.
It was in the car that she laid completely unconscious, stirring ever so often whenever there's little commotion.
"No, I can manage." Phi unbuckles his seatbelt and hops off the car, opening the passenger seat door. He slowly moves inside and gently places Honey's head on his lap. "Hon, wake up. We're here."
There's an unresponsive moan coming from her, and adjusts her head even more comfortably.
"Honey…" Phi pokes her on the arm. "Honey… hey, wake up, girl."
"I don't think she's waking up anytime soon, man." Rynan says. "Just let me help you get her upstairs."
"No, no, I'll be okay." Phi doesn't wanna bother Rynan more than he's already had.
"Aight, if you say so."
After much struggling and sweating to pull Honey out of the car, Phi finally manages to get her on her feet, half her body draping over his, arm tightly wound around his neck. He bows a little so Rynan can see him through the window. "I'm sorry to hear about Mystery Girl, by the way, man."
Rynan shrugs miserably and says, "Have a good night, Phi, and give Honey my condolences for the hangover tomorrow."
"You too, and yeah, sure I will."
And with that, Rynan drives away and disappears into the night.
Honey weighs surprisingly heavy, or maybe Phi is just too tired at this point. He walks her up the stairs with some great effort, his arm wrapped around her back, his legs bearing under her weight. Thank God Phi works out. Because there's no way he could've supported the both of them and the extra heavy load weighing his head down right now, seeing as he is a little tipsy himself. Phi rummages through his pockets for the apartment key, his other hand keeping Honey from falling off into the side, whose occasional moans are the only sound present in the darkened hall.
Once the door is pulled open, Phi staggers in, his eyes meeting dark. His fingers crawl and fumble over the light switches, and once he stumbles upon the on-switch, a warm, incandescent glow spreads across the room, the couch to the right looking more tempting than Phi can resist. He dismisses the idea and instead walks them over to the hall that leads to Honey's bedroom. The door to her room is open, Phi heaves a grateful breath, because searching for the right keys can cause more fuss than what it's actually worth.
Phi kicks the door wider, feeling a little tickle at the warm breaths Honey has been fanning into his neck, and wobbles and drags her across the carpeted floor. He reaches the edge of her bed, carefully reaching over behind him to unhook her arm around his neck, when without warning Honey collapses down, her arm now around his waist pulling him down on top of her. Phi's feet trip on their own accord and are powerless to break the fall. They land on the bed ungracefully, as the spring creaks in angry protest at the impact of the unexpected plunge.
"Shit!" Phi panics and rushes to support his weight by the arms, careful not to crush Honey's sleeping form underneath him. He tries to hoist himself up when he feels an insistent arm around his back that keeps him locked where he is. He strains up a little more but it won't budge. Great. He's stuck.
Phi begins to relax and forget why he's here. He just lays there, breathes, and revels in the silence of the room, with an attractive woman sleeping under him. For the first time, Phi looks at her. He levers up himself on his arms to get a good view of her face. It looks peaceful, innocent. He doesn't know why but he finds himself staring too long at it, longer than necessary.
Stop it, Phi. Stop it now.
Phi loves looking at Honey's face, especially when there's hours-long faded make-up on it. It's all soft, rosy cheeks, and red, sumptuous lips. There's always that glow of inner feminine beauty that oozes so elaborately out of it. Inner feminine beauty? He sounds lame even in his own thoughts. It's not a guilty pleasure or anything in that nature, but it is not something he can openly admit. Whenever he feels like looking at her, he looks at her. Whenever he feels like touching her, he touches her. But now that he's doing it secretly, without her knowledge, it feels somewhat…intrusive and wrong. Phi doesn't appreciate secrets. He wants the truth where he can see it. That's why it's so easy to be with Honey, because everything about her is genuine, accepting, free of malice, sweeter than her name. So whenever Phi wants to caress her, he caresses her without any reserve. She's not even complaining anyway. That's how simple things are between them, easier.
Then his eyes fall on her mouth. Phi finds it cute. It's almost heart-shaped, ready to pout at him anytime. He finds that cute, too. She slightly stirs underneath him, shaking his senses awake, and like a kid caught stealing the last cookie before dinner, Phi scrambles off of her, only to be pulled back down by the arm that he almost forgot was there.
"Don't leave me, Phi…" She moans.
Phi looks curiously down on her and despite the uncertainty that she is even awake to hear it, says, "I won't. I'm right here."
"Don't leave me…" She mumbles, holding him even tighter.
"You're sleep-talking, Honey." He reveals to her.
Every inch of his body aches for a quick shower and a long, seven-hour sleep, but if Honey doesn't quit this now, he's not gonna have any of that any moment soon. Now if he can dislodge himself from her tight hold…
"I want you, Phi…"
Long pause.
Long, awkward pause.
Phi stares down at her closely and listens.
"I want you…" She continues to talk; awake or not, she is saying things, audible things that are confusing Phi out of his wits right now, "Don't leave me, 'cuz I need you… I… I want you… please don't leave me…"
What are you talking about, dude?
"I'm here." This time he knows she hears him.
Phi finally feels her arm gradually losing its tension on his back, and then falling limply on her side. She's sound asleep. For real this time. He raises himself up and falls on the other side of the bed, right next to her. He places one hand under his head, the other lying close to Honey's own. For ten good minutes, he just lies there, staring blankly at the ceiling, lost.
She rouses again, turning on her side so that she's facing Phi. Her skirt is drawn up her leg so high that Phi can't help but notice. He'd recognize those lavish legs anywhere, but like he said, it sparks a feeling of guilt looking at them in this angle, when the light is dim and when she's not awake to witness him gazing at them.
Naughty, naughty Phi.
Naughty, naughty Phi whose beautiful girlfriend is alone in her hotel room right now.
With that thought, he jolts himself up, innocently draws her skirt lower to cover some of that hazel-nut skin, and hops off the bed altogether. He goes around and unties the disorienting ropes on her gladiator sandals, and with one hand gripping her ankle, the other on the tip of the sandals, slides them off in one swift movement. He then stands alongside hers and pulls up the covers to tuck her in. "Goodnight, Honey. Sleep well."
Phi walks over to the door and lingering there for a while, switches the light off with a little bit of trepidation. Whatever cryptic message Honey just said, he'll figure it out soon.
Tonight he just doesn't wanna think about it.
