Chapter Four

C-04: The Unpredictable Gentleman

I was right to grab a hat before going out. The sun was already climbing toward its peak, casting a blinding shimmer across the sand. Almost everyone I passed had a smoothie in one hand or a freshly cut coconut in the other.

I figured I should grab something refreshing too—one for me, and one for Isagani. Just the thought of being alone with him again sent butterflies into a full frenzy in my stomach.

“Hi… I’ll have two, please,” I told the vendor, offering a polite smile.

Moments later, with two chilled coconuts in hand, I made my way toward the activity area where we had agreed to meet.

From afar, I saw a figure chatting with a group of tourists.

At first, my heart skipped with hope—until I got closer.

The figure turned.

My heart dropped.

“Don’t worry,” Thomas said, stuffing his hands in his pockets casually. “He just sent me to tell you he’s running a bit late.”

Of course, it had to be him.

His eyes flicked to the coconuts I was holding. A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

“How sweet… nothing for me, huh?”

My cheeks instantly warmed. I gripped the coconuts a little tighter.

“As if I had known you'd be showing up,” I muttered under my breath, averting my gaze.

He let out a soft, amused scoff but said nothing more. Instead, he wandered over to the hammock bed nearby and sat down, the picture of nonchalance.

A few minutes later, a staff member with a megaphone called everyone in the area to gather. Instructions were going to start.

Still no sign of Isagani.

I shifted my weight, biting the inside of my cheek. I scanned the crowd again, just to be sure—but he really wasn’t there.

Meanwhile, Thomas lounged silently by a hammock, arms crossed, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, unreadable as ever.

I turned my attention back to the tour leader as he briefed the group on the day’s activity: island hopping. Three stops, two hours each, ending with a boodle fight dinner at the final island.

While the staff began handing out life jackets, I instinctively grabbed two.

I glanced at my wristwatch. Five minutes to departure. Still no sign of Isagani.

Sighing, I sank onto the warm sand and hugged the life jackets to my chest. A shadow suddenly fell over me. My heart skipped a beat.

Finally.

I looked up—only to see Thomas standing over me.

“I know,” he said simply, taking one of the life jackets from my arms.

“I know you don’t like me. Don’t make it that obvious.” He slipped the jacket on without looking at me.

I blinked. “What are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Doing you a favor, obviously.”

Before I could say anything, he turned and started walking toward the boat.

I stood slowly, glancing behind me one last time. Still no Isagani.

I let out a soft, humorless laugh and looked ahead—straight at Thomas, who had stopped halfway to the boat. He glanced over his shoulder at me.

“You coming? Or do I have to drag you over?”

I hesitated, unsure of what game he was playing. But he didn’t wait. He marched back in my direction with purpose.

Before I could move, he scooped me up like a sack of potatoes.

I let out a startled squeal. “What the—! Put me down!”

“The world doesn’t stop just because something doesn’t go as planned, missy,” he muttered, carrying me like I weighed nothing.

He said something else under his breath, but I didn’t catch it.

I pounded his back with my fists. “Put. Me. Down!”

Unbothered, he strode toward the boat. Just before stepping into the water, he adjusted his hold and lifted me properly before setting me down on the deck.

My cheeks burned. Everyone on board had seen it.

He followed me onto the boat, and for a moment, we just stared at each other in silence.

Then he smirked.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked as he passed by me. “Want to sit on my lap?”

Goodness. I hate this man.

I narrowed my eyes at him, pressing my lips into a tight line. He was infuriating. Absolutely infuriating.

With whatever was left of my pride, I turned away and found the nearest empty seat on the boat—thankfully, not beside him.

“Excuse me, hija...” a lady beside me gave me a light tap on the arm.

“I just can’t help myself,” she chuckled warmly.

“You and your man remind me of me and my husband back in our prime,” she added, glancing at the man helping hoist up the ramp.

I blushed and shook my head. “We’re not a thing…”

She let out a knowing laugh. “I’ve said that before too.”

I glanced over at Thomas for help—surely he'd say something to clear the air—but he only shrugged and leaned against a wooden pole, sliding his aviators down like he was enjoying a midday cruise.

“You know,” the lady continued, “you shouldn’t let your fights last too long, dear.”

If it weren’t for the leader’s announcement asking everyone to settle down, I would’ve probably spiraled trying to explain that Thomas and I weren’t even close to being in a relationship.

“And please, sit with your companions for easier identification,” the leader added.

Of course.

Thomas didn’t budge from his seat. So, with visible reluctance, I dragged myself to the empty spot beside him. I caught sight of a few ladies fighting over who’d get to sit on his other side.

If I could, I would’ve handed them a warning sign: Proceed at your own risk. Charming, but comes with a sharp tongue and even sharper attitude.

Moments later, the boat engine sputtered to life and pushed away from the shore. I found myself glancing back one last time.

“He’s not coming,” Thomas said, his tone flat.

I glared at him. “Thanks for pointing out the obvious.”

The disappointment hit harder than I expected. I hugged the life jacket against my chest like it could protect me from the sudden hollowness building inside.

As we cruised toward the first island, the sea glittered under the sun. The breeze picked up, salty and warm, carrying with it the scent of coconut oil and the laughter of strangers.

I felt a pair of eyes on me.

I glanced sideways.

Thomas was watching me.

“What?” I snapped.

“Aren’t you going to take photos?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Maybe later,” I muttered, turning back to the horizon.

Then I shut my eyes and let the sea breeze wash over me.

Moments later, the boat docked at the first island. The gentle bump of the hull against the wooden post pulled me from my thoughts.

I stepped off the boat—and for a moment, all the earlier frustration dissolved.

The place was stunning. Crystal clear waters shimmered under the sun, lapping gently at the powdery white shore.

Tall palms swayed lazily, casting delicate shadows over picnic huts, while the distant laughter of other tourists mixed with the hum of waves.

This… this was the break I came for.

One by one, people began to disembark. Thomas was the first to hop off, naturally. I waited in line with the others, content to take my time.

But then, as I stepped forward, a hand appeared in front of me.

I looked up and blinked.

Thomas.

Expression unreadable, sunglasses still in place, one hand outstretched like it was the most casual thing in the world.

I raised an eyebrow. “What’s this?”

“A hand,” he said flatly. “To help you down. Don’t act so shocked.”

I hesitated.

He smirked faintly. “Just take it before I change my mind.”

With a reluctant sigh, I slipped my hand into his. His grip was firm but not forceful, and I let him help me down the side of the boat.

He's right. I might as well take advantage of moments like this—him being not so stoic and uncaring.

The activities were charming in a low-key, local way. I joined the women offering hair braiding under the shade of the palms and ended up with a neat fishtail braid on one side. Then I tried my hand at making shell bracelets. Mine came out lopsided, but it had character—and a seashell shaped like a tiny pink heart.

I wore it anyway.

After some snacks—banana fritters and iced mango juice—I decided to take a stroll along the shoreline, remembering Reena’s request for seashells. I slipped off my sandals and padded across the sand, collecting soft-colored ones with smooth ridges and spiral shapes.

That’s when I stumbled upon a picturesque curve of the beach—tall palms leaning into the wind, the tide gently sweeping across the sand like a watercolor painting.

I grabbed my camera, trying to balance it against a flat rock. I set the timer and hurried into the frame.

The result? Crooked. Blurry. Awkward.

I sighed, crouching to adjust the angle again, brushing sand from the lens.

“That’s not gonna work.”

I turned at the sound of his voice.

Thomas stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his usual expression unreadable.

“Did you follow me or something?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

He stepped forward, ignoring the accusation, and gently took the camera from my hand. “Give it here. You’re terrible at setting timers.”

“Gee, thanks,” I muttered, brushing off the sand clinging to my knees.

“Don’t pout. Just pose.” He motioned toward the shoreline with a tilt of his head. “That spot looks good. Go stand there.”

I blinked. “You’re offering to take my photo?”

He shrugged. “Better than watching you run back and forth like a confused flamingo.”

I rolled my eyes but walked to where he pointed. “You better not mess these up.”

He didn’t respond—just raised the camera with casual precision. I let him do his thing. The shutter clicked as I turned slightly toward the ocean, letting the breeze lift the edge of my braid. I wasn’t even sure what expression I was wearing. I just… let myself be.

After a few more clicks, I walked back toward him. He handed me the camera without a word.

I scrolled through the shots.

They were actually… beautiful.

Natural. Soft. Me, but lighter.

I glanced up at him, but he was already walking away, hands in his pockets, like nothing ever happened.

I just didn’t understand him.

After some time, the tour guide called for everyone to head back to the boat. We were off to the second island.

It was just as beautiful as the first, though this one had less greenery and more jagged rock formations that stood like ancient sculptures against the sea. The water here looked deeper, darker in color, and the breeze was cooler—sharper.

“We’ll only be staying for an hour here,” the leader announced. “The sun’s setting earlier than expected, so make the most of it.”

It was only a little past 3 p.m., yet the sky had already begun to glow with soft orange hues. The sun dipped low against the horizon like it was in a hurry to disappear.

Thomas, as usual, stood a little farther away from the group, phone pressed to his ear. His tone sounded clipped, his brows furrowed as he spoke in hushed but tense words I couldn’t make out.

I didn’t want to eavesdrop, so I just minded my own business. I took photos—of the landscape, the water, and some rock formations that looked too beautiful to be real.

“You done taking photos?” a voice asked as I wandered closer to where he stood.

I turned toward him. “Yup,” I said, slipping my camera into my bag. “Battery’s getting low, so I’m saving the rest for the last island.”

He gave a small nod and slid his hands into his pockets. There was a moment of silence—one of those stretches that was neither comfortable nor awkward, just… quiet.

Then, a woman approached us, probably another tourist. She smiled, a camera in hand.

“Hi! Sorry to bother—but can I take a photo of you two? You look cute together.”

“Sure—”

“No,” Thomas cut in flatly.

The sharpness of his tone made both of us freeze. The woman blinked, clearly caught off guard.

My smile dropped. I turned to glare at him. “Seriously?”

He didn’t say anything. Just clenched his jaw, turned, and walked off down the shoreline like a storm cloud in human form.