Aiah sighed, leaning against her car, her phone still in her hand from the call she'd just made. It was late, and the office parking lot was eerily quiet except for the hum of distant traffic. She glanced at the flat tire again, the dull rubber sagging against the pavement, and muttered under her breath, "Of all nights..."
She'd debated calling Mikha for a solid five minutes. Was it too much? Nakakahiya naman, considering it was late and Mikha had probably just gotten off work. And they weren't exactly... official yet. They were still figuring things out—"kind of dating" felt like the closest term, though neither of them had brought it up directly. But the more she stared at the flat, the more the thought nagged her: What's the point of sort-of-kind-of-seeing a car person if you can't call them during a car emergency?
And now, here she was, waiting. Mikha had sounded so excited over the phone, like Aiah asking for help was some kind of honor. That enthusiasm made her smile despite herself.
Headlights flickered into view, and Aiah squinted as a car pulled into the lot. Sure enough, Mikha's pristinely restored Ford Bronco rolled to a stop a few feet away. The vintage SUV gleamed under the parking lot lights, its classic design given a modern twist with sleek matte black paint, polished rims, and subtle updates like LED headlights. Mikha's pride in her "baby" was obvious—it didn't just look well-maintained; it looked like something straight out of a car show.
The engine purred as it shut off, and Mikha climbed out, looking like she'd just stepped out of a car enthusiast's dream.
She was still in her work gear—grease-smudged coveralls, the sleeves tied around her waist, exposing a loose black tank top that hung effortlessly off her toned frame. Her hair was messy, tied back haphazardly, and Aiah could see the faint sheen of sweat on her arms from what was probably a long day at the garage.
Aiah felt her stomach flip. She'd always found Mikha attractive—her easy smile, her kind eyes, the way she carried herself—but this was something else. Seeing Mikha like this, so completely in her element, stirred something deeper.
"Hey!" Mikha called out, flashing her usual grin as she grabbed her toolbox from the Bronco's backseat. "What's this? Flat tire lang pala, pinatawag mo pa ako. Ano 'yan, excuse lang para makita ako?"
Aiah rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. "It's not like I do this every day," she shot back. "And what's the point of knowing someone who's into cars kung hindi ko rin sila macall during emergencies?"
Mikha laughed as she walked over, toolbox in hand. "Ah knowing lang pala. Pero next time, at least tell me kung gaano kalala. I was expecting something dramatic, like nasira ang engine or may fire."
"Sorry to disappoint," Aiah said dryly, crossing her arms.
Mikha knelt beside the car, inspecting the flat tire with practiced ease. She glanced up, smirking. "Tire lang pala. This is nothing. Baby problem."
"Baby problem daw," Aiah repeated, smirking. "Kung ikaw kaya ang naiwan sa parking lot late at night?"
"Walang problema," Mikha said, slipping on a pair of gloves. "Kasi I would've fixed it already."
Aiah huffed but smiled, leaning back against the car as Mikha got to work.
Mikha moved with precision, loosening the lug nuts and positioning the jack like it was second nature. The muscles in her arms flexed slightly as she turned the wrench, and Aiah caught herself staring again.
"Do you always look this cool when you're fixing cars?" Aiah asked, trying to keep her tone casual.
Mikha paused, glancing up at her with a lopsided grin. "Cool? Hindi ko alam na nanonood ka pala ."
