₱3,000 and a Very Inconvenient Crush

Chapter 4

She survived two full weeks on nothing but eggs, noodles, and emotional discipline—stretching a pathetic three thousand pesos like it was an art form.

Ang noodles? Wala pa sa kalahati ang seasoning mix na ginagamit niya. Matabang na parang ex na walang closure. She endured blandness like a martyr, sniffing the aroma for comfort and chewing sadness with every bite. Strict pa rin siya sa sodium count, kahit halos wala na siyang makain.

Kung hindi lang nabulilyaso ang 300K na inutang niya kay Camille—na binawi rin ng Mama niya under strict orders from Lolo—baka ngayon nasa steakhouse siya, hindi HR cubicle.

Inside the grocery’s cramped HR cubicle—barely enough space for dignity—Nicki stood with her arms crossed, her brows arched so high they could file a complaint on their own.

“Sir Arman, excuse me ha,” she started, voice calm but lethal, “Bakit kulang ng three thousand ang sweldo ko? As in exact amount ng monthly ko sa moisturizer. Hindi ‘to biro.”

Arman didn’t even look up. “Check mo ‘yung payroll sheet mo. May deduction sa transaction error last week.”

Nicki blinked. “Huh?! Anong transaction error?!”

“Yung credit card swipe mo. Hindi siya pumasok. Na-decline, pero pinilit mong i-process. Lumabas ang resibo pero di valid kasi ghost print lang ‘yon. Walang laman. Di pumasok sa system.”

“Eh may resibo nga!”

“Exactly. Pero walang authorization code. ‘Yung papel, formality lang ‘yan minsan pag nag-error. Hindi ibig sabihin successful.”

Nicki gasped like she’d been slapped with a wet tabo. “So you’re telling me na pinagbentahan ko ng dalawang bag of stuff si Ma’am Valencia—na umabot sa tatlong libo—eh sa akin bumawas?”

“Technically, yes.”

Nicki stared at him, contemplating if stabbing someone with a stapler was HR-compliant.

A few moments later, she stomped out of the office, muttering in elite despair. 

“I survived two weeks on eggs and instant noodles for this. Kala ko makakapag grocery na ako. Akala ko may steak night ako kahit chicken steak man lang! This is financial abuse!”

She walked straight into Lex near the stockroom—again. She will be heading dorm. Masakit na ulo niya sa pagod may deduction pa.

The man had this irritating habit of being exactly where she didn’t want him to be. 

And lately, she’d been doing an excellent job of pretending he didn’t exist, especially when he turned into Mr. Over-Attentive every time Isabel Rivera needed help lifting a crate or finding the mop.

Ugh. Isa pa ‘to. 

Nicki rolled her eyes.

Kung kapatid ko ‘yang si Isabel, sinabunutan ko na. 

Hindi dahil sa jealousy—ew, no—but for looking that helpless in front of a man with biceps.

“Uy, careful,” Lex said as she almost shoulder-barged him.

“Don’t. Huwag mo akong paiinitin ng ulo,” irap niya rito. Mahirap nang uminit pa ang ulo sa ganitong humidity—at lalo na sa taong mysterious AF.

There was something off about Lex. Mahiwaga. Hindi lang dahil tahimik ito, parang laging may iniisip na hindi sila kasali.

Nadinig pa niya minsan sa pantry na may SUV itong minamaneho. Nung tinanong niya si Thor, ang sagot daw ni Lex: pahiram lang daw ng pinsan. Bigatin daw yung pinsan.

Pero ang pinaka-nagpa-bad-vibes? May nagsabi na nakatira si Lex sa Subic Yacht Club. Hindi sa staff dorm umuwi.

Sino ba kasi ang taga-kaha-slash-janitor na may yacht club access?

Napaisip tuloy si Nicki. Baka part-time male escort. Or parang... discreet host para sa mayayamang widow na mahilig sa ‘undercover charm.’ 

"Why, dahil ba sa kaltas suweldo incident?"

Nagsasara ng alas otso ang grocery. Natapos na ang lahat ng task niya, kaya eto, alas diyes na ng gabi, wala pa siyang kain. Dahil wala naman siyang pera!

Bigla niyang naalala kung gaano siya ka-financially abusive dati. As in, isang dinner lang—may after-dinner drinks pa with overpriced ice—and poof, goodbye hundred thousand. 

Tipong one swipe, one story to tell sa group chat. No questions asked. No budget considered.

Pero since this tragic episode called Exile sa Zambales, Nicki finally understood the economics of the third world. 

That some people—yes, real living beings—could actually starve. 

As in die, not metaphorically, but like, dead-dead, dahil sa kakarampot na sweldo. Tapos may kaltas pa?

Excuse me, Lolo, is this the humility arc you prayed for? Because it’s giving... budget horror story with emotional trauma garnish. 

"Alam mo huwag mo akong buwisitin, puwede ba? Doon ka na lang sa Isabel mong ginu groom. Tanungin mo uli kung kumain na. Panay padala mo ng food eh. Naka TGIFridays pa kahapon! Wow, grabe ka magpa impress ha? Inuubos mo talaga suweldo mo sa steak para kay Isabel!?"

"You saw that, huh?"

She rolled her eyes sabay halukipkip. Deep inside, she hated how her chest felt tight every time she saw Lex hovering near Isabel. 

She called it indigestion, or perhaps low blood sugar. 

Certainly not jealousy. Ew, no. That was so high school.

She pruned the thought fast. No. Not jealousy. 

I just... miss being adored. Like a normal person. Yung may lalaking nagsusuyo, hindi dahil sa family name ko, or kung ilang shares ng Tantuco Conglomerate ang apelyido ko. Pero dahil gusto niya ako—as in real, deep-inside-me ako.

Nicki sighed internally. Pero baka hindi nga 'yon totoo. Maybe guys only liked the packaging. And once they realize I come with family drama, media exposure, and a legacy with matching boardroom trauma... wala na. They tap out. 

"Gutom na ako, wala pa akong pera,” she snapped.

Lex blinked, amused. “Okay. You want kain?”

Nicki looked up suspiciously. “You’re treating me?” She folded her arms tighter. “Nagsabi ka na ba sa Isabel mong ginu-groom?”

Lex raised a brow, cool as ever. “It's just a Friendly dinner .”

Inangatan niya ito ng kilay.

"Huwag na! Baka kung ano ang hingin mong kapalit." Tumayo siya at nag-walkout, patungo sa bundy clock.

She could feel Lex watching her as she walked away, the weight of his stare following her like an unresolved thesis. Hindi ito nagsalita—of course hindi, because that was his thing: mysterious smolder and silent judgment. Just one unreadable look.

But Nicki? She wasn’t having it. 

Never, okay? Nunca. I will not—ever—fall for some emotionally unavailable mop-wielding groomer. 

Hindi ako magpapauto sa jawline at mga mata na parang sinadyang pang-teleserye. 

I am a woman with boundaries. Expensive, invisible, and very, very fragile boundaries.

Pagkasakay pa lang ni Lex sa SUV—oo, yung SUV na official excuse niya ay “pahiram ng pinsan”—tumunog agad ang secure phone sa glove compartment.

A green light blinked. The contact flashed “SILO” in encrypted code. Voice-only.

“Martel. Update?”

“Quiet so far,” Lex murmured while starting the engine. “No delivery shifts from Subic this week. But I’m watching.”

“Good. Be ready. The Salcedo yacht is moving north.”

Lex’s jaw tightened, but before he could reply, may kumatok sa bintana niya—isang mabilis pero pamilyar na knock. Paglingon niya, the passenger window suddenly slid open.

“Sir Lex!” si Thor. Baby bangs, fresh pay slip, and a plastic cup of steaming squidballs. “Treat kita, bagong sweldo, ‘wag kang choosy. Fishball next week.”

Lex sighed but accepted one. “Thanks, Vic.”

“Thor!” he corrected, biting into his own stick. “Lodi ka ng warehouse, Sir. Mukha ka kasing DC universe hero.”

Lex didn’t reply. He just smirked, shook his head, and rolled up the window slowly.

Thor waved goodbye dramatically, balancing his squidball-on-stick in one hand and a cup of fishballs drenched in sweet suka sauce in the other—leaving behind a cloud of suka-and-toyo-scented ambition.

Lex pulled out of the lot, his eyes casually scanning the edge of the dorm compound just across the street. Most of the staff were celebrating payday—laughing, snacking, may nagvi-videoke pa sa kanto.

Then he saw her.

Nicki.

Walking briskly, naka phone pressed to her ear, mukha stress, and yes—still the most conyo-looking pedestrian in all of Zambales. 

She was in flats, yes, but the aura screamed Tantuco. Don’t Touch Me. I Moisturize.

Lex’s hand hovered over the signal lever. Gusto sana niya i-offer na ihatid ito. Ilang segundo na lang, bababa na siya para alukin, kahit literal lang na tawid lang naman.

But he didn’t.

Naalala niya yung panlalait nito kanina. The dramatic flip of hair. The dagger look. The “Huwag na! Baka kung ano hingin mong kapalit!” walkout na pang-pilot episode ng telenovela.

Sobrang taas ng pride kahit zero balance.

Very Tantuco. Chekwang mayabang.

Yes, Lex knew. 

Fully aware siya kung sino talaga si Veronica Camaligan. Nicki Tantuco. Heiress to half of Southeast Asia’s soy sauce empire and the budget-friendly grocery chain that feeds ten million households a week. The exile. The punishment. The high-value girl in low-value living.

She didn’t know he knew.

She also didn’t know that he watched her sometimes—when she wasn't looking. Minsan sa CCTVs habang nagre-review siya ng rotation shifts. O habang nagre-refill ito ng mga basag na candy sa impulse rack na parang nagka-care siya kahit galit siya sa mundo. 

Lex found her beautiful, yes—but grating. Like a diamond grinding against glass. Sharp, sparkly, and undeniably annoying.

May days na ito obvious mukhang gustong sabunutan ang sarili, may days na gusto niyang tanungin kung pagod na ba itong magalit.

But either way, Lex couldn’t stop watching. The way she carried herself with misplaced dignity, the way she rejected kindness like it was a scam.

It was maddening. And also—honestly? Kind of addicting.

But Lex was a patient man. The kind who watched people unfold like bad origami. And tonight, he chose not to unfold anything.

Not yet.

So instead, he drove off, one squidball poorer and one secret deeper.

As he merged onto the highway, another phone buzzed—his personal one this time. A message popped up from a secure contact.

HAWK: We're here.

Lex arched a brow.

HAWK (follow-up): Alena's pregnant again.

Lex snorted under his breath.

 Pang-sampu na ba ‘yan? Or pang-labing isa? 

Honestly, he lost count after number six. Rumor had it, Hawk was trying to raise a football team. Or start a genetic dynasty.

Halos taon-taon na lang naka-paternity leave ito. Hawk was a billion-dollar machine, not just a maker of children but the engineering genius behind Las Águilas' precision and reach.

Buti na lang may Kuya Alex—perpetual backup ni Commander in Chief kapag nanganganak si Alena.

Between the two of them, kaya sila indemmand sa kahit anong giyera o gobyerno. Isa ang utak, isa ang makina. Lahat ng operasyon, may stamp ng efficiency nila.

Still, it was good to know the family was nearby. Hawk wanted to see him while they were in town, probably for a quick sit-down and silent judgment exchange.

Lex texted back his schedule: [Tomorrow 2300H | same marina].

Nicki was still fuming.

Kagabi, she called everyone. Angkong. Her mom. Her dad. She did the full Tantuco Tour of Desperation—complete with tears, dramatic pauses, and her best Kris Aquino voice.

Una, si Angkong. Pinagbabaan siya ng telepono. As in literal—click. No goodbye. No 'I love you, apo.' Wala.

Pangalawa, si Mama. “Magtiis ka. Para ‘yang retaso mong attitude matutong lumambot.”

Pangatlo, si Daddy. “Two weeks ka pa lang sumusuko ka na? Ako nga ginawa akong kargador ng Papa bago ako na-promote paunti-unti.”

She tried emotional blackmail. “I’m not safe here, Daddy. I need my bodyguards. My yaya. My air purifier!”

Her dad just sighed. “Nasa compound ka ng grocery, anak. Tawid lang ang dorm. At may safety protocol ang Marigold para sa mga dalagang staff. De-hatid yan. Sundo pa. Mahalaga sa Marigold ang empleyado.”

And to be fair, may punto. Nakita niya with her own eyes—may night roving guards, CCTV, regular dorm roll call. And of course, Lex. Lagi siyang nandoon. Round-the-clock. Parang NSA ng mga babaeng staff.

Minsan, inalok pa siya nitong tulungan bitbitin ang bag niya.

As if!

Ano siya, sinusuwerte? May Isabel na nga siyang hinahatid, gusto pa yata siya itawid. Hindi siya ready maging part ng Mister Congeniality Escort Service.

Pero teka...

Nadinig niya kay Marisol, si Isabel daw wala na sa Block B ng dorm. “Uy, si Isabel, inilipat na ni Sir Lex sa magandang apartment,” chika nito habang nagkakape. “Doon sa bagong unit ni Madam Tere. Solo room. Kumpleto sa amenities, ‘teh! May heater, may pressure pump ang tank, may sariling sink, refrigerator, microwave. At girl, may weekly linen change! Tapos kasama na ulam sa rent.”

Nicki nearly spit out her instant coffee. Social housing na parang five-star? Sponsored by Sir Lex? Sugar daddy deluxe na to.

Though she didn’t exactly hate Isabel, she couldn't help but find her... too pure. Too soft-spoken. Too clueless. As in, ‘baka hindi pa niya alam kung paano gumamit ng facial cleanser’ levels.

After the infamous forehead kiss, wala na siyang nakitang anything remotely romantic. Wala silang holding hands, walang landian. 

The most she ever saw was Lex ruffling Isabel’s hair like a preschooler. And—ugh—that time Lex laughed. Legit. Hindi half-smirk. As in, Tao pala siya, not android?

He was always brooding, with earbuds on, acting like the rest of them were low battery notifications.

Kala ko matapobre na ako. Pero may mas matindi pa pala. Baka naman sanay sa matrona tong isa. Social climber, pero by intellect. 

Minsan nahuli niya pa itong nagbabasa ng Spanish novel. May accent pa mag-English.

Sabagay, sino ba naman ang gustong manatiling mahirap? Naghahanap lang ng leverage ang superman na ‘to, malamang.

And I won’t be one of them. Nunca.

I am a Tantuco. Heiress. Ang pangalan ko, billion peso ang halaga. Not for discounted romance on aisle five.

Then it happened.

Lex walked past her. Half-unbuttoned ang polo. Bakat ang Hanes undershirt, and oh no—six pack. Legit. Defined.

Nicki blinked.

And blinked again.

Oh my God, I’m soaking wet. This is not a drill.

Just then, Lex stepped closer. Napalingon siya. He didn’t say a word, but his brows furrowed ever so slightly—then he leaned past her to grab a folder from the shelf beside her.

Their arms nearly touched. Her breath hitched.

The scent hit her next—subtle, crisp, masculine. Hindi overpowering. Creed Aventus. Mahal. Maamo. Pang-mga lalaking hindi nagpo-post sa gym pero may abs. Pang-alpha with no need to shout.

Paano niya afford ‘yon? Nicki internally hissed. Malamang regalo ng client sa sideline nito sa Subic Yacht Club. Typical. ‘Yung tipo ng bigay ng bored expat widow na nagpapaka-generous sa mga guwapo with good cheekbones and emotional damage.

Juicy couture meets John Wick trauma. We love to see it—NOT.

She nearly forgot to breathe.

No. Prumeno ka, girl. You didn’t preserve yourself for twenty-three years just to fall for a glorified bouncer in cargo pants with an expensive cologne and questionable sugar mama trail.

She snorted to herself. “Excuse me, space,” sabay cold shoulder kahit walang shoulder contact.

Lex didn’t bite. He just gave her a small nod and walked away, like he didn’t just cause a Category 5 hormonal disturbance in aisle six.

She was still mid-crisis when her break alarm buzzed. Break time.

Munggo na naman. At pritong tilapia. Leche.

She turned and found Isabel behind her, clutching a brown paper bag.

“Hi ate Nicki!” sweet ng boses. “Nagpadala po si Sir Lex. Ayaw niya daw pong hindi ka kakain ng masarap today. May ramen kit po dito. May tempura rin.”

Nicki arched an eyebrow. 

Baka ayaw ng princess niya sa pagkain kaya ipinasa sa akin ang tira. 

But okay. Chekwa rule: ‘You never reject free food unless may allergy ka or may CCTV.’

So she accepted the bag—coolly. “Thanks.”

Behind her, her co-workers nearly exploded.

“Ayaw mo? Kami na lang!”

“Char! Gusto ko ng Japanese!” Nicki snapped, sabay irap.

The truth? She was starving. The scent of real broth made her knees weak.

Then Isabel, still beaming, asked, “Pwede po bang makisabay sa inyo?”

Partition peekers popped up like mushrooms. Gina was “getting water” for the third time. Marisol stopped mid-tapa chew.

Nicki stared at her. This teen. This K-drama vibes, Gen Z, ramen-carrying mortal who looked fresh out of senior high.

She sighed. “Sure. I’m not territorial with cafeteria tables.”

And just like that, Isabel smiled wider. “Yey! Salamat po, ate. Ang ganda ng lashes niyo today!”

Nicki blinked.

Of course maganda lashes ko, duh. Hindi ‘to mascara. Hindi ‘to falsies. Hindi rin ‘to result ng plakadong lash lift sa Singapore bago ako na-exile.

These were real lashes. Genetic flex. Thank you, Chinese mestiza genes.

Flattery... will get you everywhere.

Nicki still had a hangover—not from alcohol, but from the Japanese food Isabel gave her recently. 

Real food, with real flavor, not the munggo horror she’d been served for two weeks straight. She almost cried.

Masaya siya. Honestly. Because Isabel was reaching out. Maybe, just maybe, she could still save the girl from the emotionally constipated arms of groomer boy Lex.

Besides, wala namang masama kung makipag-close siya sa bata. Ang ganda pa naman ni Isabel. May accent din mag-English.

Medyo bilugan, pero God—those curves? Perfect. Hindi niya masabi na chubby because she’s not overweight naman. Parang Drew Barrymore lang.

Palibhasa nga bagets pa, fresh, charming, and glowing. Hindi fake tan, hindi gym starvation.

Nicki had been surrounded by anorexic friends all her life—mga kaibigan niyang nagkaka-hysteria pag lumampas sa 100 calories ang kinakain, at halos sa gym na nakatira.

Pero si Isabel? Isabel was what pretty looked like when it didn’t try too hard.

And I’m not threatened, okay? Just… observing. As a mentor. Not a jealous ate.

Nicki stormed into the security room with the grace of a furious Miss Universe runner-up.

She had just filed a formal complaint—aka verbal chika—about her missing lip balm (limited edition, Dior, obviously).

Marigold’s policy said “check CCTV.” So, fine. CCTV kung CCTV.

Inside, it was cool. Dimly lit. And worst of all—Lex was there. Sitting like he owned the place. Sleeves rolled up. Forearms out. The audacity.

Now that she was closer, Nicki started noticing things she refused to admit before. Like the color of his eyes—hazel brown with golden flecks, the kind you only saw sa mga character na may backstory sa telenovela.

His hair was slightly long, maine-cut, wavy at the ends, and under the soft lighting, may subtle shimmer of copper.

Chismis sa pantry? Baka daw anak ng Afam si Lex.

May lahi, sabi ni Thor. Kaya pala may cheekbones, abs, at accent. And honestly? It was annoying how everything about him screamed the main character.

“Chair?” he offered casually.

“No thanks. I don’t sit in dungeons.”

Lex didn’t even blink. He just clicked the mouse.

The footage began.

Nicki crossed her arms. “Zoom in. I think that’s where I dropped it.”

He zoomed in. But instead of the hallway near the cashier booth, it jumped to a different day. Different time.

It was her. Walking. Dramatic slow-mo. Then she paused. Her eyes widened—on screen.

Because it was that moment.

Lex. Kissing Isabel’s forehead.

Nicki flinched. “Seriously?”

Lex paused the frame with surgical precision.

“You watched that?” she hissed.

“On loop,” he said, leaning back like a smug Bond villain with grocery coupons.

Then he turned slightly toward her, gaze sharp and unwavering. Hazel eyes met hers, not the usual cold security-level glance, but something softer—penetrating, almost curious. The kind of look that felt like a question she didn’t know how to answer.

Nicki blinked. “Psycho ka ba?” she croaked, throat suddenly dry.

Lex shrugged. “No. Curious lang kung ilang beses ka tumikom ng bibig out of rage.”

And with that voice—low, calm, laced with teasing—Nicki felt it again. That alarming throb low in her stomach, the kind that screamed run but whispered stay.

OMG. My pelvic floor just signed off and quit. Like—resigned without two weeks’ notice. This is not sanitary, not HR-safe, and definitely not fair. she thought, internally combusting, but refused to show it. Her back straightened. Nose up.

“FYI, hindi ako galit. I was... concerned. For company image. PDA is against HR policy.”

Sulsol gang suddenly appeared at the door—Marisol, Gina, even Thor with a mop.

“She’s in denial,” Gina whispered loudly. “Kinikilig yan tuwing lumalapit si Sir Lex.”

“Confirmed,” dagdag pa ni Thor habang nagmo-mop. “Kanina nga, muntik na siyang ma-jelly legs.”

“Ssshhh!” Nicki hissed. “Get out!”

Mga sinungaling ang mga ito! Kung anu ano ini-imagine. Kaya tuloy nag aassume ang lalaking ito!

Lex was unfazed. “You didn’t answer the chair question.”

Nicki sat—angrily.

“Ugh. Just find my lip balm. Limited edition ‘yon.”

“Already did.” Lex reached into the drawer and handed it over.

Their fingers brushed.

Nicki blinked. Again. She could smell it—his breath. Clean, minty, expensive. Definitely Aesop or maybe that bougie Swiss mouth spray na may silver label. Yung pang-mga lalaking hindi nangangamoy lunch break.

Lord, ito na ba ang temptation na sinasabi sa Bible?

She yanked the lip balm from his hand. “Nakuha mo na pala, bakit hindi mo agad binigay?”

Lex leaned in, voice low and devastatingly casual. “Because I wanted to see you up close.”

OH. MY. GOD. Her entire reproductive system did a cartwheel.

Nicki scoffed—hard. “Ugh, kapal. May HR ka bang gustong i-violate?”

“Only if you file the report.”

She grabbed her bag like it owed her money. “Thanks. Goodbye. Never again.”

“Sure. See you tomorrow.”

“Over my moisturized dead body.”

Lex parked the SUV near the curb just outside the grocery parking lot. 

Nicki, fresh from bundy clock and foul mood, was already storming out the staff entrance with that signature conyo scowl on her face—like the world owed her 300K and a Michelin star dinner.

“Nicki,” Lex called out, rolling the window down just a bit. “Sabay ka na. I’ll drop you.”

She was ready to unleash a dismissive “No thanks,” when she caught sight of a certain Gen Z sunshine smiling from inside the SUV.

“Good evening, Ate Nicki!” chirped Isabel, bright-eyed and glowing like a probiotic commercial. May pa-kaway pa. Sweet. Too sweet. Tooth-decay levels.

And just like that, the storm in Nicki’s chest did a full 360.

She couldn’t stay mad. Isabel was too... friendly. Too innocent. Too freaking nice. Ang bait ng bata. Hindi niya deserve madamay sa pagiging sugar daddy ng pekeng afam na ‘to!

Lex was moreno, sure. Pero mukha siyang Latino mestizo. Parang si Superman.

Nicki turned to Lex, smile tight and laced with lip gloss that screamed 'Chanel but unbothered.' “No need, darling. Like, the dorm is literally across the street.”

Then in low voice, only for Lex to hear, “You should totally just drop off Isabel sa condo mo or whatever. You know, the one you handpicked for her domestic princess aesthetic.”

Her voice was sweet, but her eyes were throwing chanclas.

“Like, seriously? Are you—like—housekeeping the child now? That’s just... ew.”

Lex got out of the SUV slowly, shut the door with a soft thunk, and walked toward her with the calm of a man who had practiced inner peace in hell.

“Excuse me?” he said, brows arched. “Malisyosa ka lang talaga. Sa dami ng assumptions mo, ikaw tong nagco-corrupt kay Isa.”

Nicki gasped. “Ako?! Ako talaga??”

“Yes. You. Nakakastress ka minsan.”

Nicki flipped her hair so hard it almost sent a wind advisory.

She turned to walk away, planning her dramatic exit—but of course, Lex matched her step for step. Kulit ng lahi. May GPS tracking yata ito sa inis niya.

It wasn’t payday, di pa Friday, so tahimik ang paligid. Walang bagger boys na nagyoyosi, walang videoke sa kanto. Just Nicki, Lex, and enough unresolved tension to charge a powerbank.

“Stop following me,” she snapped.

Lex moved fast. One step, two, and suddenly—he had her backed against the dorm compound wall.

The world narrowed. It was just him. His breath. That cursed cologne. His hand braced near her head.

“So, ano ba talaga issue mo?” Lex asked, voice low and razor-flat. “Galit ka ba dahil ayaw mong aminin na nagkamali ka tungkol sa amin ni Isa?”

He leaned in, eyes dark and fixed on her lips. “Or galit ka kasi kahit ayaw mong aminin, you want me to pin you right here and kiss you until you forget your last name?”

Nicki’s mouth parted, breath shaky. She could smell him again—mint, something herbal, expensive and criminally close.

Dear God. Bastos yung breath niya. Mayaman na mahinhin. Pang-sex scene sa movie na may awards.

“Yuck,” she muttered, voice breathy and absolutely not convincing.

Lex’s lips curled. “Come on, Nicki.”

Their faces were inches apart. It would take one tilt—just one—and the floodgates would open.

Nicki could feel the heat rising from her chest, the kind of warmth that lingers and melts your spine like a post-facial steam. 

Her knees? Shaking like her platinum AmEx during a Dior sale.

Her brain? Absolutely fried. All she could register was the scent of his breath—minty, with a hint of expensive herbals, like a luxury spa facial inhaled through your mouth. 

His mouth. His dangerously close, sinfully symmetrical mouth.

OMG. What is happening to me? I’m acting like I’ve been starved of human touch since birth. Like, calm down, girl. This is not Bridgerton. You’re not the desperate duchess. You’re a Tantuco. May legacy ka.

And yet, her heart kept drumming like a DJ remix of “Wild Thoughts.”

This wasn’t romance. This was chemical warfare.

This was not an attraction. This was... hormonal sabotage.

But Nicki was a Tantuco. She had restraint. (Sometimes.)

So she ducked under his arm—barely—and marched toward the dorm gate with the grace of someone escaping an X-rated fantasy.

“Over my exfoliated, high-SPF-protected body!” she barked, voice sharp and two octaves higher.

Lex grinned behind her, annoyingly pleased. “I’ll take that as a maybe.”