The Last Guy You Kiss

Eight

EIGHT

I t took three months, some logistical finagling and careful consideration for Mara to decide to spend her wedding money on a summer trip to the beach. It took a week for Mabel to say she was joining her, and another week for her to then back out. Marina and David considered coming for about two days—until they decided against it, and Mara was alone.

So one warm March day, Mara sat her parents down and told them she was going to the beach for a week. And her parents, knowing fully that there was nothing they could do when their daughters made a decision, could only ask, “Which one?”

Which beach was a question as essential and philosophical as asking someone their star sign. In a country where moving in any direction will eventually lead to a beach, which kind of beach was an important distinction. Beaches to the north—La Union, Zambales, Bataan—were all black sand and warm waters. They were made mostly for serious surfers, getting tanned in the sun while dining on niche food concepts among Manila folk who were looking for a hip, young surf town vibe. Mara never enjoyed a beach she couldn’t swim in, and she was never a party girl, so pass.

Slightly to the south of Manila was Anilao, a diver’s paradise that had since evolved to have gorgeous resorts with even better pools. But it was a two-hour drive with no commute options, and it made no sense to rent a van for just one person. Venturing farther to the west via plane landed you in Palawan, God’s gift to the Philippines in the form of gorgeous rock formations, open sea, hidden lagoons and lakes to discover for the more adventurous tourist. These were the tourists willing to sit for an hour or longer on a little boat to experience the islands’ otherworldly beauty.

But Mara wasn’t looking for adventure. What she was looking for was a Lazy Girl’s Fancy Beach Vacation, one that didn’t require a car, much thought or consideration, and with enough convenience and people for her to still be relatively safe on her own.

And so, Boracay.

Mara loved Boracay. She loved it as a child, willing to sit through a nine-hour ferry ride and another thirty-minute small boat ride just to get to the island’s crowded, noisy Station 3. She loved it as a younger adult, blowing her parents’ money to party with her college friends in May for Laboracay in Station 2. But she loved it the most as an adult, spending her own money on a proper flight, an even shorter fast craft ride and a nicely appointed hotel in Station 1. It was quieter on that part of the island, with more space to enjoy the perfect white sand, crystal blue waters and her favorite sunsets. The fact that the restaurants along the beach rivaled those in Manila, and the café there was slightly better, was also a big plus in the island’s favor.

Mara wasn’t even there yet, and already she didn’t want to leave. But before she could get there, it did mean having to ride a fast craft from Caticlan Jetty Port to Boracay.

“Ate, it’s a chill ten-minute ride at most,” Mabel tried to reassure her over the phone as Mara huddled into the corner of her bench seat. “You’ll live.”

“Say that at my funeral, thanks.” Mara sighed dramatically. She leaned her forehead against the open window beside her. Her face desperately turned toward the sea, letting the weak breeze allay the dizziness that was threatening to overwhelm her with each rock of the boat. Inside, the fast craft was full of activity. Crew making sure the passengers were seated in the right places, porters who didn’t really have to be there getting PHP 50 per piece of luggage from the passengers who hired them, more porters, and staff and passengers arguing about how the bags should be stacked up front, in a way that they were in the passengers’ view at all times.

Chaos, chaos.

“Anyway,” Mara continued, keeping her eyes on the calmer seas. “Are you still hiding from Mom and Dad?”

“You bet!” came Mabel’s overly cheery, sarcastic reply. “It’s all yelling and no communicating, and I thank god every day that I learned to drive in these insane streets so I can escape Mom and Dad creating more marriage counseling fodder.”

Mara laughed, mostly because Martin and Jasmine would never go to marriage counseling, even with their daughters’ urging. Another side effect of the three girls entering their thirties (or in various precipices of), was that very suddenly they were old enough to read between the lines of their parents’ arguments.

They could boil it down to this: waking up one day and realizing that the person you had been sleeping next to for the last thirty-something years wasn’t the same person you married. That you didn’t fully know or understand this new person, because you expected them to stay exactly the same. This resulted in a lot of yelling, lines being drawn, and three daughters playing unlicensed marriage counselor once a week. Mara was their particular favorite for this, the only daughter who didn’t snap at them for being unreasonable.

But as she was in a completely different group of islands at the moment (shout out to you, Visayas!), this left Mabel to be the one to say things like, “Why didn’t you tell her,” or “Maybe you could tell him,” or the classic, “Yes, that’s what we call communication.”

“I ran away to the mall because Mom had that ‘I need to talk to you’ look on her face,” Mabel explained. It wasn’t hard to hear the guilt laced in her tone. But by tacit agreement between the sisters, they made the decision to be firm with their boundaries, and that meant walking away from their parents sometimes. “And they wonder why we’re in no rush to get married!”

“Ikaw naman,” Mara chided her little sister. “Fighting is normal in a relationship, we know this.”

“In their relationship,” Mabel corrected her. “We’re not supposed to be involved!”

Mara sighed. She’d had these conversations with her sisters about as many times as her parents blew up at each other. So there wasn’t really much she could say except, “Fair.”

“And yet we’re the ones who have to hear them yell at each other, commiserate when they complain about each other, and not be there at all when they make up!”

“Do you want to be there when they make up?” Mara joked, and Mabel made a gagging noise in response.

But really, there was no need for her to explain any more, or for Mabel to rant any more, because they were sisters. And the great thing about having siblings with a group chat was that there was nobody else in the world who understood the phrase, “My parents are driving me up the wall,” more than them. They had the context, the language, the phrasing, the reassurances. Emotions waxed and waned like the tide. And Mara enjoyed that predictability of their relationships, as complex as it all was.

“You could always move out, Mabel,” Mara pointed out. “You don’t have to live at home.”

“Oh please.” Mabel snorted. “In this economy? We’re so fucked that I’m losing 40 percent of my income to a government who uses our money as a fun expense account. The salary I am paid is not equal to the amount of work that I put in to a company that doesn’t care about me, and I am expected to be able to afford my middle-class life on that? No.”

Facts. And it didn’t at all help that the supposed head of the government owed billions in taxes himself. It was a mess on all counts that, surprise, surprise, affected everyone. Both Mara and Mabel sighed. It was not a fun conversation for ten in the morning.

“It is what it is,” Mara told her sister. The best platitude she could give her at the moment. They knew there were worse things. But that didn’t change what it was—still pretty shitty.

“Isn’t it always. I’ll have brunch here at the mall and then do some errands before I go home. I’ll send updates on the group chat so Ate Marina knows, too.”

“Okay,” Mara said, the two of them promising to report their whereabouts later on in the chat.

“Rosplenda, Rosario and Rosemary” was a safe place online where the Barretto siblings could keep tabs on each other, talk about what restaurants were cool, share reels and discuss their dislike of Taylor Swift. There had been a recent debate on if David should be brought into the fold, but he stayed in a separate chat, now called, “Lady Whistledown’s Chika Room.”

She hung up just as the fast craft pulled away from the docks and the engines roared to life. Everything that rocked also started to vibrate, only magnifying Mara’s dizziness.

Ten minutes , she reminded herself, closing her eyes. It’s only going to take ten minutes.

She was pulled out of her own misery by the feeling of someone tugging her free hand. Someone small. She cracked an eye open and found herself holding hands with a small child. The child sat beside her on the bench seat, head facing forward, face mostly obscured by the cutest little checkered bucket hat crocheted with red and pink squares. Clutched in the child’s other hand was a very familiar-looking heart-shaped alien with tentacles. Why was it familiar?

The child turned their face toward Mara. Then the child smiled, and their entire face lit up, cheeks pressing up to the corners of their eyes. Mara’s heart felt like it was producing heart emojis out of cuteness. It was the kind of smile that could make any Grinch believe in Christmas.

“I’m being a good girl,” she announced.

“Uh, I guess you are,” said Mara, nodding. Although this child could tell her the sky was green and she would agree. She might be confused, but she did feel the strong urge to put this little girl in her pocket, she was so damn cute. “Hi.”

“Hi!” she said back, her little legs kicking under her. “Mama says you should hold hands on a boat.”

“That’s good advice.” Mara wondered how she could subtly ask this child if she was supervised. Because if she was not, then there was a high possibility that Mara was having heat stroke and imagining a ghost baby. “Um, your mama is…” Please don’t say a ghost.

“Luna!” an unfamiliar voice exclaimed, a whirl of flowy fabric swooping in to wrap itself around the little girl. “Thanks for finding our seats, baby.”

“Mama!” The little girl squealed as her mother attacked her with kisses. Luna’s hold on Mara’s hand broke as she hugged her mother back, giggling wildly. The woman pulled the hat off of her child’s head, revealing a slightly sweaty anit. She pulled out a previously unseen hand towel and swiped the sweat off the little girl’s head, quickly replaced it with spray-on sunscreen and put a couple of spritzes on top before she leaned in and took a deep sniff.

“Mmm. Bantot!” She laughed and put away the spray bottle. Then she gave her daughter a portable electric fan in a bid to stave off the heat.

“I was holding hands,” Luna explained, and her mother turned to Mara with an appraising eye. It was a little scary, mostly because Mara knew Luna’s mother was trying to ascertain her intentions. Mara blushed, suddenly feeling like an intruder in what was clearly a very sweet mother-daughter moment.

“I see,” Luna’s mother said, smiling. “Say thank you to your friend, Luns.”

“Thank you po.” Luna’s voice was uncharacteristically small and shy as she leaned against her mother. “Tita.”

Aray naman. Shot through the heart right there. Mara smiled, though, and told Luna that it was her pleasure. All the while, she endured Luna’s mother’s assessing glance, like she was trying to categorize the purpose of a single woman riding a boat to Boracay on a weekday.

“Luns, why aren’t you wearing your life vest?” a new voice asked. Well, not new. But a voice she didn’t think she was going to hear again anytime soon. “Do you need candy? I have some right here.”

Motherfucker.

Just when Mara thought she’d run away far enough, Jay Montinola stood in the middle of a fast craft to Boracay. Mara choked on air, like a spirit had possessed her and tried to deliver her from this moment via a swift death. Not today, Satan.

“Arms out,” Jay said to his niece. Apparently not seeing Mara. She put her sunglasses over her eyes and sank into her seat in a bid to make her 5XL frame feel just a little bit smaller. He looked very much like a harried tito, wearing a rattan fedora, a sleeveless sando (complete with puka shell necklace, why? ), Islander flip flops and blue tinted shades.

(But how did he manage to still look so cool—that was Mara’s question. He literally had a little cross body pouch?)

There was a stripe of still wet sunscreen on his chin. He was also inexplicably carrying a deflated duck floatie, a child-sized bright orange life vest and two more bags. Not including the previously clocked little Snoopy pouch, from which he procured a mint candy for Luna.

“Jay, she’s already sweating from your bucket hat!” The woman Mara now assumed was his older sister swatted her hand in his direction, like he was a fly that needed to buzz off. “And she doesn’t need the life vest. Save it for the ocean.”

“Huh! Ate, this is the ocean,” Jay pointed out. “What if—”

“Nong, you’re not holding hands!” Luna said it with the same vigor as her mother, like it was of equal importance that her ninong was holding someone’s hand. Luna splayed out her little hand toward Mara as if asking for a screwdriver. “Tita.”

Mother fucccckkker.

“Er, Luna?” Mara quickly straightened herself in her seat and smiled innocently at the girl.

“Mara?” It was comically hilarious how Jay nearly dropped everything he was carrying when he realized who was sitting next to his family. If this was an anime, a large drop of sweat would be right over his head.

“Oh, Mara,” his Ate exclaimed, fully whirling in her seat to face Mara. Her eyes were brimming with perky interest and excitement. Mara was only a little bit scared. “You’re Mara!”

“One of many?” Mara asked hesitantly.

“The one and only,” Jay corrected. He looked like he didn’t know if he was going to jump out the window and swim to Boracay or make his sister move so he could sit next to her. If she were being fully honest with herself, Mara was thinking the same thing. He moved to sit in the empty seat across the aisle.

“Oh no, don’t sit away from her, anuba!” Jay’s Ate said. A quick glance at his older sister told Mara that neither she nor Jay were in control of what was going to happen next, because Ate was already putting the hat back on her daughter’s head and standing up, seemingly unconcerned at the rocking of the boat. “Luna and I can take your seat, Jay. Hi, nice to meet you, Mara. I’m Irene. Go lang. Bond. Reunite. Recreate.”

“Ate—” The engine of the boat roared to life, and Jay stumbled.

“M’amsir, please stay seated,” one of the staff yelled over the sound, and all of a sudden (intentional), Mara was right back where she was three months ago, inside a moving vehicle with Jay. The circumstances were completely different this time around, but still it was him, and her, and all the words they had said to each other.

A couple of bags were passed between Jay and his sister, the deflated duck and the life vest staying firmly on his lap. Mara noticed Jay’s knee was shaking. They exchanged nervous smiles, as if their lips had never touched before. Mara felt a tug in her chest that she was wholly unfamiliar with. A yearning she hadn’t expected to feel around him. She pushed it down into that deep place where she’d placed all the other swirling emotions of the last three months, left there to be unexamined until she needed them.

What was it Jane Austen said about exes? Strangers that would never become acquainted. Sitting there now made her feel it, that ache of sadness about the things that weren’t going to happen between them. That he decided were not going to happen.

Not that Jay was her ex or anything. He wasn’t actually anything , really, but still his knee shook, and Mara was… She was mad at him. She knew this because it was the predominant feeling she’d been carrying for Jay Montinola since she met him. But while she was angry, she could be polite. Ten minutes’ worth of polite.

“So,” Mara started, because she was the bigger person, and she didn’t plan on letting him know that she was angry with him, “your Ate and niece?”

Her voice was almost snatched out of the air by the roaring engine and the wind that whipped through the boat.

“What?” Jay asked. Because it was the polite thing to do, even if there was no use to start polite conversation on a moving boat. Mara had forgotten how loud it could get.

“Your family?” Mara screamed, gripping the bench in front of her to keep herself steady. She used her lips to point to Ate Irene and Luna. He still looked confused. “Oh my god. YOUR FAMILY?”

“YES,” Jay yelled back. Both of them were making a valiant effort to pretend that Ate Irene wasn’t doing a terrible job of trying to eavesdrop. “Wedding! We’re attending a wedding!”

“OH NICE,” Mara said, smiling a little too sweetly while she imagined kissing his face off. See how he liked it. “Are you—”

“Best man!”

“Great! Have you seen Marina since—” Since we deeply kissed in front of my house and never spoke to each other again?

Because it could only have been a deep kiss, what they did that night. Mara didn’t have a wealth of experience on the matter, but it felt deep, like he wanted it to last longer, like he wanted to hold on a little tighter. Or maybe she was projecting, and all kisses, deep or not, felt like that.

The boat jerked suddenly, in a way that made Mara and Jay jump, lose whatever grip they had on their seats and slide into each other. Mara gasped, and Jay shouted in surprise. His hand flew out and reached for her shoulder, keeping her steady as she found herself looking into his kind eyes. At the little wrinkles in the corners that were beginning to form as a result of what she assumed was excessive smiling. The boat carried on like nothing was amiss, and yet everything seemed to have changed.

Mara looked up at his face, and, to her horror, angry tears sprung into her eyes. Oh god. Thank god she was still wearing her sunglasses. As angry as she was, as annoyed and embarrassed, she didn’t want him to let go. And wasn’t that just the most fucking fantastic thing.

“Jay.”

The boat steadied, but his hand stayed. Was that the engine still roaring in her ears or the beat of her heart? Mara couldn’t tell. She could barely hear as it was, but she was already picturing this moment with a soundtrack, like Stevie Nicks, or Armi Millare.

“Mara.”

The smile on his face was like a hand that squeezed fondly over her heart. The tension eased between them, like they’d never left his car. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” she said, because it was true. “Busy.”

“With someone new?”

Anger made Mara move to slide back to her seat, thanking god again that she had her sunglasses on. She was not going to let Jay Montinola see her break. She shook her head. What an asshole. He had no idea. “You might need to revise the statistics on your little kiss curse. Didn’t quite work.”

“What?” he asked, and Mara shook her head.

“It’s okay,” she told him. Which was a total lie. Of course it wasn’t okay that he resorted to kissing her to reject her, that he’d embarrassed her and made her feel even more unwanted than before, and—no. She had to stop dwelling on that. She was on vacation. She was going to enjoy herself and move the fuck on.

“Mara…”

“What?” she snapped, turning to him. His hand was reaching out to her cheek, but she pulled back and touched the spot he was about to. It came away wet. “I had something in my eye.”

“Oh. Um. Where are—”

“Um, guys?” Ate Irene asked. Mara looked up just in time to see Irene holding her daughter’s hand while standing in the crowded aisle, facing them. “The boat’s docked.”

And sure enough, it was. The engine had been turned off, and the boat was now floating idly by the dock. It was amazing how quiet the world suddenly seemed after loud noise. The sound of waves lapping lazily against the shore was perfect and tranquil. The crew was busy dropping anchor, tying the boat in various places. As Pinoys were wont to do in every travel situation, people were crowding the aisle, each person seeking to get out of the boat before anyone else, wanting to be the first out for no discernible reason.

“Fastest ten minutes ever,” Jay said, and Mara had to agree. He stood up and squeezed into the line of people, shuffling backward to give her room. She ignored him.

“We’re staying at the Shorewinds Hotel in Station 1,” Ate Irene informed her, turning to face Mara, Luna holding on to her skirts. “Just FYI.”

“I’m right next door,” Mara realized out loud. “Seasprite Stays.” Thank god. She’d almost booked at Shorewinds.

“What an amazing coincidence,” Ate Irene cheered, enough that even Luna looked excited. “Isn’t that also where they sell that coconut dessert—”

“Cocomo? Yeah. I might have…chosen Seasprite because of Cocomo,” Mara admitted, ignoring the chuckle from Jay.

There was a well-known trifecta of restaurants within ten steps of Mara’s hotel. Cocomo the dessert stand, Sunnydale the café and Amano Po the Italian restaurant. A ten-minute walk away was a restaurant that served world-famous oyster sisig and four-cheese pizza. Another ten-minute walk in the opposite direction was a place that served fruit shakes. Mara’s vacation plans consisted of never straying far from any of those places. And with the beach right in front of all of these establishments? It was a lazy girl’s dream come true.

“Cocomo?” Luna repeated curiously. “Is that good, Tita?”

“Yeah, it’s ice cream made with coconut milk and other yummy things.” Mara smiled. God, Luna was cute. She was still that age where she had perfectly round baby cheeks, even if she was quickly growing taller. “You should join me. I think I get a discount because I’m staying at the hotel.”

“We will take you up on that offer. Right, Jay?” Irene asked her little brother pointedly. Her smile was both diabolical and amused. Mara had intentionally not included Jay in her thoughts of inviting the Montinolas to dessert. “Luna, you want to put on your hat?”

“Yes please,” Luna said, reaching for the hat. Upon closer inspection there were still a couple of loose threads inside. It was clearly handmade. Luna saw her looking and held it up for Mara’s inspection. “Tita, did you know Nong made this for me?”

“Really?” Mara blinked in surprise. “Nong?” she echoed, turning to face Jay, who looked sheepish. “You crochet?”

“I wanted to try it after what you said. You’re right, it is soothing.”

Curses, he was cute. Mara rolled her eyes at her own fickle emotions. It was really, really hard to hold on to a grudge when Jay was making his niece cute bucket hats. Hats were hard to make, and she should know! You needed to stitch in a round, with a magic circle base, and…wow. He really tried crochet. Because of her. Mara inhaled deeply to store her kilig.

The line started to shuffle forward, and Jay squeezed past his sister to grab his family’s luggage before someone ported it out. Mara sighed and took her place in line. It was almost over.

“I feel like I should ask,” Ate Irene said over her shoulder to Mara.

“Don’t ask,” Jay yelled a few places ahead of them. But clearly Ate Irene had chosen to ignore her brother’s sage advice. Jay was quickly lost to the dearth of porters and passengers grabbing luggage left and right. It was actually kind of scary.

“What did he do?” Ate Irene asked, as Mara lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Is it the meme thing?”

Mara shook her head. “He already apologized for the meme thing.”

“So he did something else,” Ate Irene mused. God help all the younger siblings who had to endure the scrutiny of their Ates. Mara pulled a half-empty water bottle from her purse and started to take a sip. “Is that why you guys aren’t dating?”

Mara choked on the water, making Luna laugh as some of it sprayed on her hat. Mara apologetically patted the little girl’s head. So cute.

“Why would we be together?” She laughed like it was the most ridiculous idea she’d ever heard, even as her heart ached in such a familiar way. Like she knew exactly how long it would take, how much it would hurt, when it would go away.

“Because he said that he kissed you,” Ate Irene pointed out.

“I asked him for a…different favor.” Mara huffed, but she looked down at Luna to indicate to Irene why she wasn’t going to elaborate more. “A more hands-on one. He declined and thought his magical, not-real kiss thing would be better.”

“Hay Jay.” Irene rolled her eyes. Again, a familiar reaction to a sibling being particularly obstinate. “I swear, his Leo placements get the better of him most of the time. He’s just had a rough time with love. Our parents, Selena…” Mara did not remember right away that Ate Irene meant Selena Guerro. “Plus, I haven’t exactly been a stellar role model for him when it comes to long-lasting love.”

“Yes, but he’s making these choices. He’s an adult, making them.”

“Oh, I like you.” Ate Irene gasped like she just realized how awesome Mara was. “I can see why he was mopey these last three months.”

“Mopey?”

“Like Snoopy but sad,” Luna supplied, which was only kind of accurate. Mara laughed, even as every part of her itched to ask Ate Irene just how mopey Jay had been. If it was anywhere near as mopey as her…

“And there’s nothing going on between you. Your interest in him was—”

“Academic.”

“Sure. And he was being—”

“Philanthropic, he thinks.”

“Uh-huh. Is that what we younger millennials are calling it these days?” Mara had the distinct impression that Jay’s older sister was trying not to laugh. “You know, I think I will take you up on that Cocomo date. We have so many things to discuss.”

Ahead of them, she spotted Jay already holding two pieces of luggage on top of everything else. He was scanning the pile for a third. What else could the family possibly need? His eyes brightened, and he reached over to Mara’s luggage and pulled it from a pile. Of course he knew it was hers. Mara could read her own last name from the gigantic luggage tags her mother had gotten them for Christmas, hanging from the side of her carrying case.

“Jay!” Mara said. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you,” he replied as she, Luna and Ate Irene made it to the front of the boat, people passing them to go ahead. “That plank to the dock is rail thin and rickety. It’s really hard to do it without bags.”

“And yet somehow I managed to get on the boat by myself, like a big girl. Give me the bag.”

“It’s fine, I got it,” Jay insisted. He was holding both handles of his family’s strollers in one hand, carry-on bags on his other shoulder and the deflated duck looped around his neck as he held on to the handle of Mara’s case in his other hand. He looked extra ridiculous, and Mara could feel a familiar heat of anger rise from her belly.

“Jay, let go of my bag,” she repeated.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” He sounded annoyed and exasperated. “If I was your boyfriend, you would have expected me to help you.”

“I already asked you to help me, remember? And you said no. Now, aren’t you glad you aren’t my boyfriend, pretend or otherwise?”

She turned away from his flabbergasted face and called a porter over. She could have sworn she heard Ate Irene choke back a laugh. The man was eager to help and quite surprised when Mara made him grab Jay’s carry-on bags and the two strollers. Before Jay could protest, Mara snatched her case from his hand, urging the porter to go ahead of her.

When she managed to make it up on the ramp, fueled by spite and zero self-preservation, she handed the porter two hundred pesos and thanked him. Then she turned to face the Montinolas, who were still standing on the fore of the boat and watching her in varying expressions of confusion (Luna), amusement (Irene) and what-the-fuck-just-happened (Jay).

She grinned at him and used both hands to put her sunglasses on, Horatio Caine style. Yeeeaaaaaahhhhhhhh!

Jay rolled his eyes in response. His sass was massive, but Mara’s spite was only just bigger. Because if she was completely honest herself, what she had refused to tell Ate Irene, to tell Jay or anyone else, was the real reason why she booked this trip. Why she thought it was time to use her good luck wedding money.

It wasn’t her sister getting married, wasn’t the first or the second reception. It wasn’t even that it was the busiest time of the year for the studio, or that her parents’ relationship was a daily tightrope walk of other people’s problems.

It was that he’d tried to soothe her with a kiss. A kiss that he knew had to ultimately mean absolutely nothing, but still made Mara feel good. Made her think that it actually agonized him, saying no to her. Made her think sometimes that today, today it was going to work. Only to realize that she wasn’t a little girl, and she didn’t believe in fairy tales that way anymore.

She had gotten so used to waiting, waiting and hoping. The prince would approach her, everyone said!

But no. Jay had kissed her because he pitied her and thought it would be enough. And the humiliation was, quite possibly, even worse than when he’d made her social media’s favorite joke. So Mara was going to hold on to her triumphant pettiness for a long, long time.

“We’re just waiting on the other group to join us,” the driver of the transport told her when she loaded her belongings into the van. There was a fifteen-minute van ride to get to Station 1, and most hotels booked proprietary third-party services to handle that transportation.

So Mara ended up holding on to her triumphant pettiness for about, oh, ten minutes. Because the doors to the L300 opened to the sight of three very familiar people.

“Tita!” At least Luna was genuinely delighted, waving happily from the open door. Ate Irene was busy speaking to the driver, checking their belongings, and Jay was on the phone with someone, even if his eyes had zeroed in on Mara. The gaze was heated, but she couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad thing.

“—yeah, we’re here. What do you mean a disaster?” Jay said to the phone. “No, it’s not a disaster. Hold on—want Nong to carry you, Luns?”

The little girl nodded and held her arms up without turning to face him. What followed was a funny scene of Jay hoisting Luna up to the single step up to the back of the van, the girl keeping her arms perfectly straight at her sides like he was about to toss her in the air. Luna giggled and moved to sit next to Mara while Jay kept talking, tucking the phone between his chin and shoulder as he helped Ate Irene load their many, many belongings. “I’m sure it will be okay. It’s Boracay! I’m sure there are suppliers somewhere out there.”

He sat in the spot closest to the door as he helped pull his sister up. Ate Irene’s eyes widened at the sight of Mara and Luna, but they softened at her daughter’s smile, and she sat across from them.

“What a coincidence,” Ate Irene said, “I mean it, though, Mara. I really like you. That—” she jerked her thumb at her brother “—notwithstanding. And not to defend him or anything—”

“Oh, Ate, you don’t have to—”

“—but he really does think that kiss of his is a curse. It’s the first time he’s done it intentionally to spare someone, and I think he wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t think you would be better off. He can be a real dummy that way.”

Ugh. Her conscience had no voice, but it did feel a lot like a rock weighing her down. She should trust him more, but trust would mean letting go of her feelings, of packing them up and putting them away neatly, never to be felt again. Would he have listened, if she told him, about how he’d made her feel that night?

“Alex. Breathe,” Jay said into the phone, unaware of the conversation about him happening from the same car. “Ate and I will be there in about fifteen minutes, then we can figure it out, okay? Now, who’s the best man? That’s right. You can use me as a stress ball as soon as we get there.”

He hung up and put away his phone.

“Everything okay?” Irene asked.

“Nothing a best man can’t handle.” He smiled at them, but it was a polite, strained smile.

The ride continued on in silence, filled only by Luna asking her mother questions, or Irene fielding questions from Luna that were supposed to be meant for Jay. Mara could almost feel his aura radiating…something from his side of the van.

Thankfully, her hotel was first.

The van pulled to a stop, and the driver grabbed Mara’s bag from where he’d placed it in the passenger seat. Mara made sure he had it by the door of the hotel before smiling at Ate Irene and Luna, waving as she awkwardly shuffled to the end of the van.

It wasn’t going to be easy to alight from the van, she realized.

She sat in the seat at the very end, closest to the door, before she remembered that someone was supposedly sitting here. Only for her to look at the door to find Jay holding his hand up to her, his smile kind. And she knew what his apologetic face looked like, because she’d seen it so many times already.

“I’m sorry,” he said to her.

“Do you even know what you’re apologizing for anymore?” Mara asked. She was tired of this, of not understanding how he felt, and not being able to ask (because why, again?). She was tired of picturing him walking through the door, of still being lonely.

“You’re angry.”

“I’m a lot of things. But yes, I am angry,” she admitted, and a weight lifted from her, just by admitting that out loud. “Frustrated, annoyed, really, really pissed…”

Jay winced, and all the fight left Mara, her shoulders dropping.

“But I’m really happy I ran into you. All things that are true.”

He seemed relieved.

“Let me help you down.” He held a hand out for her. She took it and let him guide her down from the van, the two of them standing in the street together. Electric tricycles, other vans and cars passed by them, but it was really hard to notice when Jay was looking at her like…like he understood her. Like he could see her for all she was, and how she felt. He was sweating. And that stripe of sunscreen was still on his chin. Mara wiped it off, and she didn’t miss the way he closed his eyes at her touch. The way it made her heart skip a beat.

So maybe he hadn’t rejected her because he didn’t want her. He did. And the way she was reacting to him, the way she wanted him? The feeling was mutual.

“I think we need to talk,” he concluded. She nodded.

“You know where to find me. I’ll see you later.”

* * *

As it happened, later was in about thirty minutes. After a very painless check-in and a quick change, the vacation was officially on.

Mara was at the beach, fully protected by sunscreen, nursing a glass of complimentary ripe mango shake and holding her phone. She’d taken a quick dip in the ocean. Not long enough that her fingers got pruny, but just enough to cool her down. Her view was obscured by bamboo scaffolding that kept patrons from view of the public, but it was perfect enough for her purposes. The beach and the lounge were almost completely empty at noonish, which was understandable.

Mara wouldn’t be caught outside in the blazing heat of the too bright, too hot sun, either, but she found a lounger situated under a strategically placed palm tree, had re-slathered herself in sunscreen and kept her legs under her sarong. The key to enjoying the beach was getting just enough sun.

Her phone was currently playing catch-up with messages and texts—mostly questions from the team regarding the Impressionist Cosmetics tinted lip gloss launch next week. Would they be able to accommodate more students for the flower workshop? She had three hours left in her workday, and that was fine.

Over on the “Rosplenda, Rosario and Rosemary” group chat, Mabel sent a photo of a cake. It was a gorgeous cake from Caramello’s, with a creamy yellow caramel layer and roses piped expertly in buttercream.

There was no dedication, no note. Only a caption from Mabel. He bought a cake, guys. I think they’re fine na.

Nothing spelled, “Can we sweep our issues under the rug now?” better than a cake from Caramello’s. Mara sighed and laughed ruefully, shaking her head. Some days, she didn’t regret her current single situation, when it meant not having to deal with this kind of thing.

Locking her phone and leaving it on Do Not Disturb, Mara just settled in for her first round of sunbathing when something wearing a sando, a Snoopy pouch and a puka shell necklace blocked her view. Her eyes un-squinted and she looked up at the space invader.

“I have questions about the pouch,” Mara said without moving.

“It contains essentials.” Jay shrugged like it was all the explanation he needed to give. “You want a candy?”

“You know when I said I would see you later, I meant I would come to you, not the other way around.”

“You did tell my sister exactly where to find you,” he teased, and his grin turned into a soft smile. Mara’s eyes lazily drifted to his exposed collarbones, the way the sleeveless shirt hugged his trim waist. She felt a sparky, electric heat shoot up from between her legs, to her chest and back between her legs. Jay was openly staring at her lying in front of him, bikini on, her thighs and cleavage on full display. Her toes curled under her sarong to contain what her high school religion teacher called “urges of an impure nature.”

“I really can’t decide if I like the necklace.” She suddenly had to change the subject, sitting up on the recliner. “I’m getting boyband flashbacks.”

“It’s vintage 2000s, baby,” Jay chided her. Upon closer inspection, Mara clocked that he was nervous and sweaty. Sweaty she understood, but nervous, not so much. Not for Jay. “Okay, I know we need to talk. We need to talk a lot.”

“Do we?” Mara sighed. “I kind of thought we already didn’t say everything we needed to not say.”

Jay blinked, absolutely confused by the double negative. Mara couldn’t repeat that if she tried. But she was the child of two people who perpetually didn’t communicate. She learned things.

His eyes darkened. “I’m not here to talk.”

There it was again—that warm, shivery little zing that shot through her body. Maybe it was her thirties. Maybe it’s Maybelline.

“I actually need your help,” he said.

And let’s be honest. To the part of the population that was at the intersection of being an eldest daughter, Asian and an earth sign…was there anything sexier than someone asking your help?

Today, Mara learned, that the answer was no.

“It’s the wedding. There’s a floral emergency.”

“Brief me while we walk,” Mara said, throwing her tapis on. “What’s the emergency?”