Hostile Takeover (of My Heart)

“Let’s go out, mag-unwind tayo.”, ani ni Cam sa telepono.

“I don’t unwind.", sagot ko habang abalang sinusuri ang papeles sa mesa niya.

"Tara na Erenaa! Samahan mo na ako.", nagmamakaawang usal ni Cam sa telepono.

"Busy ako Cam, iba na lang ang ayain mo.", saad ko habang abala pa din sa trabaho.

"C'mon Erena. Lagi ka namang busy. Kelan pa kita makakasama? Lagi kang hindi pwede. Just this once. Promise hindi ka magsisisi. At isa pa, I know you have a lot going on today. You needed this.", tuloy tuloy na usad ni Cam.

Napabuntong hininga akong nakikinig sa kanya sa kabilang linya at napahinto sa ginagawa.

Pero ayun na nga. Somehow, napilitan akong sumama sa isang bar with sticky floors, flashing lights, at crowd na amoy regrets at cheap perfume. Hindi ko alam kung anong mas malala — ‘yung DJ na paulit-ulit nagpi-play ng 2015 hits o 'yung problema ko sa bahay na sinusubukan kong lunurin sa tequila.

"Is this really how it is here?", sabi ko habang palinga linga sa paligid.

"Wag mo na pansinin yan, mamaya hindi mo na din yan iintindihin," nakangising saad ni Cam. Waring excited na napapayag akong sumama dito sa bar.

Hinila niya ako paikot na upuan at doon na nagsimula si Cam na umorder ng inumin naming dalawa.

Hindi ko na namalayan kung paano kami nakaabot ni Cam na ilang empty bottles na ang nasa mesa.

“Shot pa!” sigaw ni Cam.

“Cam, I’m rich, heartbroken, and potentially disowned. Kung hindi tequila, baka tao na ang malunod ko,” I said, tossing another shot back.

By shot #4, I was warm.

By shot #6, I was reckless.

By shot #7, I was a public hazard.

I stood up — for whatever reason, no one knows — and tried to strut to the bar like a queen. Pero ang lumabas? Drunken giraffe in heels.

Then bam.

Chest-to-chest collision. Biglang nag slow-mo ang paligid.

I bumped into a tall, smug, and parang sinumpa ng cologne sa bango.

I am so dizzy, but still sassy, and full of bad decisions. Biglang nagsalita ang mabangong lalaki.

“Watch where you’re going,” he said in his condescending arrogant voice.

I looked up. He had cheekbones sharp enouglh to slice through you. I hated him immediately.

“Sorry, didn’t see the oversized ego in front of me,” I said with a smile so fake kamukha ko na si chuckie.

Then karma — sweet, spicy karma — hit me like a truck.

The tequila revolted.

I blinked, swayed, and before I could even curse…

I projectile-vomited all over his crisp, white, designer shirt.

Time stopped.

He looked down, frozen.

I wiped my mouth and said, “Oops.”

“You—What the hell?! This is Armani!” he choked, staring at the mess like it personally betrayed him.

“Then congrats,” I said, deadpan. Habang umiikot ang paningin, “Now it’s vintage, distressed, and emotionally scarred. Trendy.”

Si Cam na nakita ang mga pangyayare, screaming internally.

Ako habang hindi makatayo ng diretso at nahihilo ay already fixing my lipstick in my phone camera.

While he is going through all five stages of grief while looking at his shirt and the drunk girl in front of her.

“I should sue,” he hissed.

I shrugged. “Go ahead. I’d love to meet your lawyer. Maybe I can vomit on him next.”

He opened his mouth to fire back — but I was already walking away, wobbling like a queen escaping a crime scene.

Cam grabbed my arm. “Erena. What. The. Actual. Hell?!”

I just grinned. “He blocked my path. I cleared it.”

I didn’t get his name.

Didn’t care.