Michaels in Love (English)(BoysLove)

Chapter 4 - Season 1: Lousy Driver

**January 26, 2012 - Diary**

**Thursday Morning**

I woke up early today. It's my day off, and the only thing on my mind was to take a well-deserved rest. Lying in bed, my eyes wandered to Mike's calendar poster. Uncle Jerry's voice echoed in my memory—just the other day, he urged me to visit his friend, Mr. Ken. Apparently, Mr. Ken could offer me a job with a better salary than what I earned now.

But I hesitated. I wasn't sure I wanted to go. The rain had just stopped, and I wasn't in the mood to step out. For a while, I remained in bed, staring blankly at Mike's poster, letting time slip by.

Minutes later, my phone buzzed. It was Sir Andrew asking if I could cover a shift for an absent coworker. I declined politely, explaining I needed a day to rest.

As I lay there, staring at the ceiling, I decided—maybe I should visit Mr. Ken after all. It wouldn't hurt to try, right? I got up, took a shower, dressed neatly, and headed to the nearest computer shop to print an updated copy of my résumé.

As fate would have it, just as I stepped out of the shop, rain poured down again. My freshly printed résumé was soaked in seconds. Frustrated, I ducked under a shelter, debating whether to continue. I couldn't believe my luck. Should I go home? Should I still try?

Eventually, I returned to the shop, printed a new résumé, and this time placed it in a plastic envelope for safekeeping. The rain finally stopped, and I walked toward the LRT station, hoping my streak of bad luck was over.

But no. A speeding car sent muddy water splashing onto my clean clothes. Drenched and fuming, I caught a glimpse of the license plate—JJT 018. "You've got to be kidding me!" I shouted to no one in particular. "I hope your tire goes flat!"

Frustrated and out of options, I trudged back home to change. With a pout, I walked through the door, grumbling about the unfairness of it all. By the time I changed, my phone rang again. It was Sir Andrew, pleading for me to cover the shift since no one else had agreed. I couldn't refuse this time, even though I had initially planned to decline. Reluctantly, I agreed.

---

**On the Way**

I hopped onto a tricycle bound for LRT Legarda station, determined not to be late despite the day's misfortunes. My phone rang once more. The caller ID was unfamiliar, but curiosity got the better of me.

"Hello, this is Michael Alexander Muraoka," I answered.

"Hi, Michael. This is Ken from AM Group of Companies. We'd like to invite you for a job interview. Are you available today?"

"Thank you, Sir," I replied, surprised. "But I haven't even submitted my résumé to your office yet."

"No problem. Your Uncle Jerry sent us your updated résumé. Are you free to visit today? We have a lot of job openings with great offers."

I paused. It was a tempting offer—one I knew could change my life. But I had already committed to work today. "I appreciate the opportunity, Sir, but I'm on my way to work. Could I visit another day?"

"Of course. Feel free to come by anytime between 10 AM and 6 PM, Monday through Saturday."

As I stood in line at the ticketing booth, questions swirled in my mind. Why would such a reputable company like AM Group be interested in me, someone who hadn't finished college? Perhaps it was Uncle Jerry's influence. They were childhood friends, after all.

---

The electronic board displayed one minute until the next train's arrival. A nagging feeling tugged at the back of my mind—like I had forgotten something important. Before I could figure out what it was, the train arrived.

As the train doors opened, I noticed an elderly woman with a cane stepping out. She looked frail and alone, navigating toward the escalator. Instinctively, I approached her.

"Ma'am, let me help you down the escalator," I offered.

"Thank you, young man. You're very kind," she replied.

"It's nothing. I never had a grandmother, so I always try to help whenever I can."

"What's your name, son?" she asked.

"Michael. And yours?"

"Lorenza. I'm eighty years old but still strong," she said with a proud smile.

I chuckled. "You certainly are. Most people your age would take the elevator."

She paused, looking deeply into my eyes. "Michael, you've forgotten something important for work."

Her words startled me. I checked my bag—and there it was. My ID and locker key were missing. I must have left them at home.

I thanked her for the reminder and helped her out of the station.

"Thank you, Michael. May God bless you. Soon, your smile will return, and your day will be brighter," she said before walking away.

When I turned to bid her goodbye, she was gone.

---

The day might have started with setbacks, but somehow, I felt lighter. With my ID and key retrieved, I boarded the LRT again, hoping for smoother hours ahead. Along with my bag, I grabbed my book, The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown, determined to lose myself in its pages and escape the string of misfortunes that had plagued me all day.

"Drenched résumé, splashed with mud, forgotten ID... What could possibly go wrong next?" I muttered to myself as I boarded the train.

Thankfully, there were still a few empty seats. I sank into one, opened my book, and let the words transport me to a different world.

"Next stop: Gilmore Station," the announcer's voice echoed through the train. My seatmates stirred, gathering their belongings and preparing to disembark. Immersed in my book, I hardly noticed when someone sat beside me.

A familiar scent interrupted my focus—a striking, unmistakable cologne, bold and refined. Armani.

"Nice choice. Big fan of Dan Brown?" a voice said.

I froze. That voice... I turned my head, and there he was. Mike.

Dressed impeccably in a tailored coat, perfectly coordinated slacks, and a tie that exuded class, he looked every bit the man from the billboard. His cologne only amplified his presence—masculine, magnetic.

I was stunned, caught completely off guard. My lips trembled as if my brain had forgotten how to form words. A smile crept across my face—one so wide it must have revealed every thought I was desperately trying to hide.

"Y-yes," I stammered after an awkward pause. "I'm a huge fan. I've read almost all his books, even before they were adapted into movies."

"Books are always better than the movies," Mike replied casually, his voice smooth and warm.

"I agree." My words came out haltingly, betraying my nerves. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't stop myself from stealing glances at his face. His eyes lingered on mine, and I felt a flutter of something I dared not name.

"Do you work at Gateway Mall?" he asked.

"Yes, at the Food Court. And you're with Manchester, right?"

"Yup."

"It's hard to miss, given how big your billboard is," I said with a grin.

He chuckled. "By the way, I'm Mike," he said, extending a hand.

"Michael," I replied, shaking his hand. "You can call me Mike too." His grip was firm yet soft, and I couldn't help but wonder why someone like him, surely accustomed to luxury, was taking the LRT.

"Do you usually ride the train?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Not often," he admitted. "My car got a flat tire earlier. I usually take the train if I'm running late—it's faster than sitting in traffic."

We ended up talking the entire ride to Gateway Mall. I'd planned to read, but this unexpected conversation made me forget everything else. It was our first real exchange, and it felt like a door had opened between us. Lola Lorenza's words echoed in my mind: Something good will happen today. She had been right.

At work, I couldn't stop smiling. My coworkers noticed. "What's with you today?" they teased. I just shrugged, humming as I wiped down tables and greeted customers with a cheer I couldn't quite contain.

Around 1 PM, the food court was still packed. As I cleaned a table near Mike's, I noticed he was sitting with his girlfriend, Liza, and her younger sister, Danica.

Danica caught my eye and smiled warmly. I returned the gesture—a subtle yet undeniable "killer smile," complete with dimples on both cheeks. She blushed, visibly flustered.

As I cleared another table nearby, I overheard their conversation.

"Sis, stop being so obvious. Smiling at him like that—he's not your type," Liza scolded.

"Why not? He's cute!" Danica protested. "Besides, he doesn't look like he belongs here. He could be a model."

"Danica, stop it. I'm warning you. Guys like him? Social climbers—or worse, a player!"

"You're just being cynical, Ate Liza! Right, Kuya Mike? Don't you think we'd look good together?" Danica said, seeking Mike's approval. He gave her a small, reluctant nod, his disappointment evident.

Liza leaned in, her tone sharp. "No, you wouldn't. And don't lower yourself to someone working as a crew member. You're the daughter of the president of Manchester."

Mike frowned at her harshness. "Liza, don't be rude. People can hear you."

"Fine. I'm sorry," she replied with an exaggerated sigh, glancing my way.

If it hadn't been such a good day, I might have marched over and shoved my cleaning rag in her face. Grrrr! She didn't deserve someone like Mike. I couldn't help but feel giddy, though—Mike had defended me. It was small, but it meant everything.

At 2 PM, I finally took my break. The other crew members had arrived, so I headed to the restroom. As I waited for a stall, the door opened, and out walked Mike.

"Michael, about earlier," he said, catching my attention. "Sorry if Liz made things awkward. She didn't mean it."

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest. As he spoke, my gaze fell to his lips—soft, red, and enticing. My mind played tricks on me, daring me to imagine what it would be like to kiss him. But I shook the thought away, forcing myself to respond.

"It's nothing, Mike," I said with a nervous laugh.

He smiled, patting my arm lightly. "Alright. See you around." As he turned to leave, I swore he winked at me—or maybe I imagined it.

I entered the stall, but my thoughts wouldn't stop. A voice in my head urged me to follow him, to close the space between us, and to...

The door swung open, and there he was. Mike stood before me, his gaze locking onto mine. He cupped my face gently, and as his lips moved closer, I felt my heart race. I closed my eyes, surrendering to the moment as our lips met in a fiery, passionate kiss. It was intoxicating, electric—a kiss that burned away all logic.

If this was a dream, I never wanted to wake up.

To be continued...