Hookup [MikhAiah] [Book #3]

20

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AIRA's POV

I close my laptop with a soft click, letting my hands fall to my lap as silence fills the room. The band's papers are finally done, stacked and filed away, yet there's no relief. Just this restless void as I sit, the hum of the now-dark screen haunting the quiet. Lately, it feels like I haven't had a second to breathe, to be alone with my own thoughts. I've either been out with the band, running errands with Dad, or...or letting my mind drift back to Miki.

The mere thought of her ignites a quick heat beneath my skin. A sigh escapes as I press my hands to my face, but the memory floods in unbidden—her gaze locking on mine across the room, the thrill of a stolen kiss, a shared touch lingering longer than it should. This isn't you, Aira. I can barely believe myself, yet here I am, sneaking around with her, as if all the secrecy makes it even more irresistible. Each kiss feels reckless, a hidden act I can't seem to stop craving, and now I'm here, half-dazed, remembering the last one. It's too much.

I stand abruptly, a little shaken, trying to push the thought out of my head. Rewind, I tell myself. I need to hit pause, rewind, and get my mind back in order. Heading to the kitchen, I grab a cold soda from the fridge, the can chilling my palm as I walk back to my room. I set it down near my laptop, sinking into my chair and resting my chin in my hand. But no amount of soda or deep breaths seems to dull the slow, pounding migraine I've been fighting all day. Did I even take the right medicine? A shiver of doubt prickles my mind. Dad gave it to me, so it should be fine...

But the calm I'm hoping for doesn't come. I prop my elbow on my desk, let my head fall into my palm, and stare at nothing in particular, feeling the familiar ache of frustration sink in. Since when did I let myself lose focus like this? I came here with a plan, with priorities, yet since I've been back in the Philippines, I feel scattered, distracted.

Thoughts of that night at the bar pull at me, and I shift uncomfortably. Maybe if I hadn't asked Miki to spend the night, none of this would have happened. She'd be nothing more than a passing face in my memory, not someone haunting my every thought. What on earth made her say yes that night? Did she feel sorry for me, or was she just being nice?

My phone vibrates on the desk, jolting me from my tangled thoughts. Dad's name flashes across the screen, and I force myself to take a deep breath, composing my expression before I answer. "Hi, Dad."

Dad's voice is warm, his usual comforting tone soothing against my racing thoughts. "Anak, kamusta? Sorry, mukhang matatagalan kami dito sa Tagaytay."

His words ease some of the tension from my shoulders. "Okay lang naman, Dad. Take your time there."

"Well, I sent you a file in your email pala. It's the proposed poster design for the band's concert." His voice holds a hint of pride as he continues. "Manager thought you might want to take a look before we finalize it."

Switching my phone to speaker, I quickly pull up my email, and the attachment loads, the screen filling with a vibrant image of the band, each member captured mid-smile. My eyes drift to Miki, and an involuntary flutter starts in my chest. She stands out effortlessly, eyes intense even in a still photo. I press my lips together, shaking the thought away.

Dad's voice breaks through again. "So, what do you think?"

"It looks... great," I say, trying to sound casual, though my voice catches.

"Perfect! Could you print a copy and bring it by the office today? Some of the girls are there, so you could show them in person na rin."

I agree, ending the call as I stare at the screen, the tension creeping back. I plug in the printer and let it whir to life, each print sliding out one by one. Grabbing my car keys, I shrug on my coat, the weight of today's tasks settling in as I step out into the garage. Dad had kept his word; the car sits polished and pristine, as though it hasn't moved since I left. A sense of calm settles over me as I slide into the driver's seat, the familiarity of the car grounding me.

The drive to the office is mercifully short, and I find myself breathing a little easier with the soft beat of Sticky by Kiss of Life humming through the speakers. Pulling into the building's parking lot, I quickly switch off the engine and grab the envelope with the posters. Flashing my ID at the building's smart lock, I slip through the doors, my focus narrowing in on my task as I wait for the elevator.

A presence steps up beside me, and I glance over. There's no mistaking the red hair poking out from beneath a dark cap, or the concealed features of the face half-hidden behind a mask. Miki. A strange mix of anticipation and nerves knots in my stomach as she turns, eyes meeting mine with a flicker of recognition.

"Oh hey," she greets, her voice muffled by the mask but unmistakably her.

"Hi." The word is barely a whisper, the silence between us thickening with an awkward tension that neither of us can seem to break.

The elevator arrives with a chime, and we step in, both quiet as she presses the button for the studio floor. She finally speaks, breaking the silence. "Day off for the managers today, diba?"

I clear my throat, fidgeting slightly as I hold up the envelope. "A-Ah, I'm just here to... show you guys these."  The simple words coming out all wrong. But before I can backtrack, the elevator suddenly jolts, shuddering violently before coming to a halt, the lights flickering out. 

Panic rises in my chest, clawing up my throat as I clutch the railing tightly. I swallow hard, feeling my breath hitch. Not here, not now.

Before I know it, Miki crouches beside me, her hand slipping over mine, grounding me with the warm weight of her fingers. "Hey, it's okay." Her voice is steady, laced with an odd gentleness that I don't often hear. "Look at me." She tightens her grip, pulling my gaze to hers, her face calm, soothing.

My migraine pulses stronger, an agonizing throb behind my eyes as my breaths come shallow, frayed. "Aira," she says again, her voice firm, anchoring me to the present. 

"We'll be fine. I'm here, okay?" Her fingers entwine with mine, a grounding hold as she reaches for her phone with her free hand. 

"I'll call Chase. Just breathe."

Miki's voice echoes faintly in my head, but something doesn't feel right. Her words mix with the building pain as an unfamiliar name brushes through my mind, soft and haunting. 

Aria. 

The name rings clear, resonating in the void, but I can't place it, the syllables blurring as my vision begins to darken, the pressure of her hand the last thing I feel before everything fades to black.