The Assist

Chapter 6

"Okay, serious question. Truce?"

I stared at the glowing message on my screen, biting the inside of my cheek as I reread Liam’s DM for the third time.

Truce.

Short. Loaded. Dangerous.

I let the words hang there, floating between irony and possibility.

A week ago, I would’ve left him on read just to prove a point.

Pero ngayon?

Now, after that infamous walk-by-accidental-run-in-sa-campus that left my thoughts scrambled and my pulse spiking?

Now, after all the online jabs and late-night banter that somehow turned from savage to… strangely sincere?

I didn’t know anymore.

I typed slowly.

Me:

Define truce. Like ceasefire? Or are you setting me up for another passive-aggressive quote tweet?

Seconds later, my screen lit up.

Liam:

Let’s talk. No jabs, no games. Just us.

Just us.

Putangina. Why did those two words feel like a dare and a promise all at once?

I pressed my phone to my chest and exhaled.

“Bakit ka kinakabahan?” Kai asked, lounging on my bed like she owned it. “It’s just a podcast.”

“Exactly. My podcast. And he’s him.”

“Okay, but you’ve already grilled him once. What’s the difference now?”

I opened my closet and pulled out a white oversized button-down. “Because this time… it’s personal.”

“Personal?” Her brows arched. “As in feelings?”

I glared at her through the mirror. “As in topics. Family. Background. Goals. The person behind the 'player.'”

Kai sat up, eyes glinting. “You mean the part where you realize he’s hot and human?”

I threw a pillow at her.

She caught it, cackling. “Max, come on. If he flirts today, will you flirt back?”

“No,” I said too quickly.

Kai gave me a look.

“…maybe.”

The recording room was unusually quiet.

The only sound was my own breathing—and the faint hum of my heart playing patintero with its rhythm.

Then, the door creaked open.

He walked in.

Black hoodie. Green joggers. Hair still slightly damp like he’d just showered. That damn silver bracelet clinking on his wrist.

He looked around the studio, then at me.

“Host,” he said with a lazy smirk.

“Menace,” I returned, arms crossed.

But this time, we both laughed.

A shift.

He sat across from me, mic already set. “So… truce?”

I nodded, even if my chest tightened a little. “Truce.”

We started with surface-level questions. Childhood. First game. Pressure.

But somewhere in between my joke about his t****k thirst traps and his dry clapback about my “anti-men agenda," something changed.

The banter slowed.

The answers deepened.

“What’s one thing people always get wrong about you?” I asked.

He paused.

Then—softly, “That I don’t care.”

I blinked. “About what?”

“Everything. The team. The expectations. My future.”

He leaned back in his chair. “People think being chill means you’re shallow. But I care too much sometimes.”

And there it was.

A c***k in the armor.

And I wasn’t ready.

“I get that,” I said, quieter than usual. “People think I’m confident all the time. But honestly? Half the time I’m just pretending not to freak out.”

He tilted his head. “You don’t seem like someone who pretends.”

“That’s because I’ve had practice.”

Silence.

Comfortable. Heavy. Intimate.

The episode ended without either of us noticing the time.

But what came after was even more surprising.

When I stopped the recording, Liam didn’t move to leave.

He just looked at me—steady, unreadable.

“You know,” he said, voice low, “you’re different off-mic.”

I raised a brow. “How so?”

He shrugged, eyes still locked on mine. “Warmer. Realer. Still scary—but in a good way.”

“Scary?”

“Yeah.” His mouth tilted into a grin. “Like you could ruin me, and I’d probably thank you.”

My breath caught.

“Goodnight, Ramirez.”

“Goodnight, Dela Cruz.”

And as he walked away, I hated the way my heartbeat followed him.

Not out of hate.

But out of curiosity.

And maybe… something more.

I stayed in my seat even after Liam left the room.

My hands were still resting on the mic, but my thoughts were far, far away—spiraling, drifting into that gray area I swore I’d never enter.

I came here with every intention of keeping it professional. Maybe throw a few soft punches, keep the vibe casual, controlled. Pero bakit parang siya ‘yung nag-disarm sa akin?

Bakit parang… ako ‘yung naiwan sa tahimik?

I reached for my iced coffee, only to realize it had already melted into a watery mess. Great. Symbolic.

Kai was waiting for me just outside the studio when I finally stepped out. She took one look at my face and grinned like she knew something I didn’t.

“Successful ba ang second episode?” she asked, eyes twinkling.

I handed her my flash drive and tried to keep my tone neutral. “Depends on your definition of success.”

“So he didn’t flirt?”

“He… did,” I admitted, exhaling hard.

Kai’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God, Maxine!”

“But it wasn’t the usual Liam flirt. It was… soft. Strategic. Real. And somehow worse.”

“Worse how?”

“Because it’s getting harder to tell when he’s joking and when he’s being serious.”

Kai hooked her arm around mine. “Guuurl. Alam mo, that’s how it starts.”

I side-eyed her. “How what starts?”

“That dangerous stage where you stop hating him but start overthinking every text, every look, every compliment—lahat ng bagay na dati, wala lang sa'yo.”

I scoffed but didn’t argue.

Because… she had a point.

I spent the next few nights editing the episode, alone in my room with my earphones on, listening to his voice on loop.

And that was dangerous. Because every time he laughed softly at something I said, or took a thoughtful pause before answering a question, I heard something I wasn’t supposed to.

Warmth.

Curiosity.

Something that sounded a lot like... interest.

Three nights later, he messaged again.

Liam:

That part where you said you fake confidence? Didn’t expect that.

I stared at the message, thumb hovering over the screen. I could already hear Kai teasing me in my head: just reply, Max!

I typed back.

Me:

Surprise. I’m a layered onion of social anxiety and aggressive feminism.

Liam:

And sarcasm. Don’t forget sarcasm.

Me:

Part of my charm.

Liam:

It’s disarming.

Me:

So what’s your layer, Ramirez?

Liam:

You’ll have to peel to find out.

A beat passed.

I shouldn’t have smiled. But I did.

And when I tucked my phone under my pillow and turned off the light, my heart was still beating in that unfamiliar rhythm again.

Not panicked.

Not angry.

Just… curious.

And a little terrified.

Because I think I was starting to like the sound of his voice more than I should.

And this—whatever this was—was no longer just a podcast episode.