Sorry, My Mistake

One | Nia

a/n: a preview. enjoy this snippet while I write the story offline!

#SorryMyMistakeWP

Chapter One
Nia

WHEN DECLAN KNOCKS, Nia knows it'll be him on the other side of the door. He knocks the same way every time, with two sharp knocks and a third—that's how his fists hit the varnished door. Hindi nakakagulat na tila kabisado ni Nia ang tunog ng katok niya. He's only been knocking on her door since they were ten—since their older sisters decided to be the kind of best friends that call each other 'sisters from another mister'. She wishes she were joking, but their sisters are practically attached to the hip.

Nia grew up with joint family dinners, month-long double vacations, a second home fifteen minutes away, and love from two mothers and fathers. Every Torres family activity inevitably includes the Firths. And that alone could have been fine if only the same expectation hadn't befallen Declan and Nia.

This incredible relationship has been forced down their throats by every mind in the family. There is no way around it. Never mind that Nia has nothing in common with this boy. Never mind how awkward it is that they're just expected to be friends. Winalang bahala lang nila na hindi naman gano'n kadali ang makipagkaibigan. With this great unfortunate fate, it has become apparent early on in Nia's life that Declan Henry Firth is here to stay.

As friends.

"Oi." That low voice accompanies his unique knock.

Her heartbeat suddenly decides to make itself known as soon as she feels him by the door. Nia has never been able to get rid of that feeling.

"Bukas 'yong pinto!" she shouts as she tapes the last box close. The door creaks open. She keeps her gaze off of his face.

"Look, Baby, you gotta pick up the pace." His voice drags the syllables of that name he usually calls her. It's not what most people think. He doesn't mean it that way—certainly not in the way she wants him to. The real reason is much more boring and annoying than that. All friends of Nia's older sister call her 'Baby Torres' or 'Baby' in brevity. By extension, it's what Declan calls her too.

Hindi siya sweet. Hindi siya malambing. Hindi sila gano'n.

She turns and spots him leaning against the door frame—well over six feet, arms crossed, brows low, messy head of golden hair concealed under that navy polo cap.

"I'm done. Last na 'to." She raises her hands up.

He steps inside, carefully. Nia follows his gaze as Declan looks around. His eyes travel to her cluttered desk, the framed art on the wall by famed local artists, her spotless vanity, and her misarranged ottoman. For a second, waves of self-consciousness hit her spine. She puffs her chest up subconsciously.

"First time ko atang mapasok dito." Tuluyan pinansin ni Declan ang mga detalye ng kwarto.

Wrong. He's seen it before. Nakita na niya pero saglit lang. Lasing din siya no'n kaya hindi na magugulat si Nia kung hindi na niya talaga maaalala. She really isn't in the mood to rehash the memory, so she lets him forget.

She swallows down her heart—hating the fact that it's been beating significantly stronger since he knocked on the door.

"5SOS, Baby Tor?" he says, amused. His gaze is on the band poster across her wall. Declan whistles low as he runs his hand across the photo. "Luke Hemmings?" asar nito.

"Cut it out," she retaliates. Nia tucks her curly black hair and pretends not to feel the tip of her ears burning.

His brows knit together, patronizing. "You don't have to be embarrassed, it's just a poster." What's the catch? He makes her breath hitch as he takes a step closer, head hanging low near her ear to whisper, "I already know you like them blond."