The walk back to the hotel was quiet, but not in the comforting way it had been earlier. Now, the silence was thick, almost suffocating, every step weighed down by the unspoken tension crackling between them.
Neither Aiah nor Mikha dared to address it, but it hung in the air, undeniable. The moment on the beach—standing so close, looking into each other's eyes, breathing the same air—it had almost tipped them over the edge. Almost.
And now, as they reached their room and stepped inside, the energy between them was palpable, electric. The quiet click of the door shutting behind them felt deafening, sealing them off from the world outside, leaving them alone with whatever it was that had been simmering between them since Coron.
Aiah moved toward her bag, pretending to busy herself with something—anything—to avoid looking at Mikha. But her hands trembled slightly, her breath coming quicker than it should have.
Mikha, on the other hand, stood frozen near the door, her back against it. Her mind was racing, her body taut like a bowstring pulled too tight. She knew this feeling. She'd felt it before, back in Coron, in that tiny hotel room where they'd shared something fleeting but unforgettable.
She'd been holding herself back ever since, convincing herself that she needed to stay guarded. But now, with Aiah just a few steps away, her hair still tousled from the breeze, her cheeks faintly flushed from the beer and the walk, Mikha felt her walls crumbling.
It wasn't just the chemistry, though that was undeniable. It wasn't just the physical pull, though that was impossible to ignore. It was the fact that she felt something—something deep, something raw, something terrifying and magnetic all at once.
Aiah turned slightly, glancing at Mikha over her shoulder, her lips parting as if to say something. But she froze when she saw the look in Mikha's eyes—intense, unguarded, and filled with something she couldn't quite name.
And before either of them could think too much, before Aiah could overanalyze or Mikha could stop herself, Mikha closed the distance between them in two quick strides.
Her hand wrapped around Aiah's wrist, gently but firmly, pulling her closer. Aiah barely had time to process what was happening before Mikha's other hand cupped her jaw, tilting her face up slightly.
Then Mikha kissed her.
It wasn't tentative or hesitant—it was a kiss born out of weeks, months, of pent-up tension. Mikha's lips moved against Aiah's with purpose, firm yet soft, as if she'd been waiting for this moment and wasn't willing to waste a single second.
Aiah let out a soft gasp against Mikha's mouth, her hands instinctively coming up to grip the front of Mikha's tank top. The initial shock melted away almost instantly, replaced by a heat that spread through her entire body. She kissed Mikha back, her movements just as desperate, just as hungry.
The world outside ceased to exist. All Aiah could feel was Mikha—the warmth of her hands, the slight press of her body, the way she kissed like she was trying to make up for all the time they'd spent apart.
Mikha broke the kiss for just a second, her forehead resting against Aiah's as they both tried to catch their breath. Her voice was low, almost a growl, as she said, "Aiah, if you don't want this, tell me now."
Aiah looked up at her, her brown eyes wide and dark, her lips swollen and slightly parted. She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. "I do. I want this. I want you."
That was all Mikha needed to hear.
Her lips crashed against Aiah's again, her hands sliding down to grip her waist and pull her closer. Aiah responded with equal fervor, her fingers threading through Mikha's hair as they stumbled back toward the bed.
