By the time they returned to their hotel room, the night had settled comfortably over Siargao. The island air was cool and salty, lingering on their skin even as they stepped inside and locked the door behind them.
Aiah set her Polaroid camera on the small desk by the window, her movements slower than usual, as if she were deliberately stalling. Mikha tossed her room key onto the nightstand, stretching her arms over her head before kicking off her sneakers.
And then, there it was again—the queen-sized bed.
The same bed that had been waiting for them when they'd arrived, taunting them with its singularity, was now back at the center of their attention.
Aiah felt her shoulders tense slightly as she glanced at it, and from the corner of her eye, she could see Mikha doing the same. Neither of them said anything for a moment, but the air between them seemed to thicken, charged with an unspoken awareness.
"I'm showering first," Mikha announced abruptly, grabbing a fresh set of clothes from her suitcase. She sounded casual, but Aiah could hear the faint edge to her voice.
"Sure," Aiah replied quickly, sitting on the edge of the bed and flipping through the Polaroids she'd taken earlier, pretending to be completely engrossed in them.
Mikha disappeared into the bathroom, and the sound of the shower turning on filled the silence. Aiah exhaled slowly, setting the Polaroids down as she leaned back on her hands. Her mind raced despite her best efforts to keep it blank.
It wasn't like this was the first time they'd shared a space like this. But this time—this time was different. They weren't strangers anymore, thrown together by circumstance. They weren't on a boat with other people, making polite small talk. And they weren't pretending to be anything they weren't, like they had over dinner in Coron.
This was something else entirely.
The bathroom door opened suddenly, and Mikha stepped out in a loose shirt and sweatpants, her damp red hair falling over her shoulders. She rubbed a towel against the back of her neck, glancing at Aiah as if to check her temperature. "Bathroom's all yours."
Aiah nodded quickly, grabbing her own clothes and rushing to the bathroom as though it were some kind of safe zone. The warmth of the steam hit her as soon as she closed the door behind her, and she braced herself against the sink, staring at her reflection.
"Get it together," she muttered to herself. She could still smell Mikha's shampoo lingering in the air, which wasn't helping her get it together at all.
The shower did little to ease her nerves. If anything, the proximity—the knowledge that Mikha was just on the other side of the door, waiting—only made her hyperaware of how small their shared space was.
When Aiah finally stepped out of the bathroom, wearing a loose tank top and shorts, her hair still damp, Mikha was lying on the bed, scrolling through her phone. She looked up briefly, her brown eyes flickering over Aiah for just a moment before returning to her screen.
"Lakas ng water pressure, no?" Mikha asked casually, as though the tension in the room wasn't palpable enough to cut with a knife.
"Uh, yeah," Aiah replied, toweling off her hair as she walked over to the other side of the bed. She hesitated for a second before sitting down, her movements awkward and unsure.
The bed creaked faintly under her weight, and Mikha finally put her phone down, turning her head to look at Aiah.
The silence that followed was deafening. Aiah busied herself with fluffing her pillow, while Mikha sat up, leaning back against the headboard with her arms crossed over her chest.
