The Timing Between Us

Chapter Six

I arrived almost an hour late because my mother insisted on calling before I left.

Something about being careful.

Something about resting properly.

Something about finally settling down because, apparently, twenty-four was already ancient in Filipino parent years.

By the time I reached the rooftop bar, the reunion was already loud enough to hear from outside.

Music.

Laughter.

Drunk conversations.

I stepped inside and immediately got greeted by chaos.

“REIG!”

Someone nearly tackled me.

I laughed as Marco grabbed my shoulders dramatically. “You still look annoyingly expensive.”

“You look unemployed,” I answered.

The table exploded with laughter.

“Still an asshole,” he sighed emotionally.

A few more greetings followed after that.

Questions about New York.

Questions about flying.

Questions about Columbia.

I answered politely, but my attention kept drifting around the rooftop.

Searching.

And then I saw her.

Near the edge of the long table.

Quiet.

My chest tightened instantly.

Clara.

For a second, the noise around me disappeared completely.

Because there she was.

Older now.

Beautiful enough to make breathing feel slightly inconvenient.

Her brown hair fell softly around her shoulders, messy in a way that looked effortless. The red dress she wore hugged her figure just enough to be distracting without trying too hard. Satin against warm skin. Elegant. Soft.

And those eyes.

Still expressive.

Still dangerous to my self-control, apparently.

But something felt wrong immediately.

Too quiet.

Too withdrawn.

The Clara I remembered used to glow around people.

This Clara looked exhausted.

She laughed when someone spoke to her, but it sounded delayed somehow. Forced.

And the glass in her hand.

I frowned slightly.

Too much alcohol.

She drank again while staring blankly at the table.

Rabbit.

What happened to you?

Someone beside me kept talking, but I barely heard them.

Because Clara suddenly smiled politely at someone asking her a question.

And I caught it.

That tiny hesitation before she answered.

That subtle discomfort.

Years passed, but apparently I could still read her too easily.

She was unhappy.

The realization sat heavily in my chest.

I hated it immediately.

“Bro,” Marco said. “You even listening?”

“No.”

He followed my gaze toward Clara slowly.

Then he grinned.

“Oh.”

I ignored him.

Unfortunately, he got louder.

“OHHHH.”

Several heads turned immediately.

I sighed. “Shut up.”

“You still like her.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You literally stared at her like a returning soldier seeing home.”

“That’s dramatic.”

“That’s accurate.”

I looked back toward Clara again.

She was rubbing her eyes slightly now.

Sleepy.

And definitely drunk.

A small smile pulled at my mouth before I could stop it.

She still had terrible alcohol tolerance, apparently.

Some things never changed.

Then suddenly she stood from her chair carefully.

Too carefully.

Yep. Drunk.

“Bathroom,” she muttered to her friends before walking away.

An idea formed in my head immediately.

Maybe childish.

Maybe intentional.

Definitely not accidental.

I walked toward their table casually and sat directly in her chair.

Marco looked horrified.

“You’re insane.”

“Probably.”

“You’re smiling to yourself.”

I leaned back comfortably. “Am I?”

“You’ve been back in the country for two weeks, and suddenly you’re acting like a book character.”

I ignored him.

Because Clara was walking back already.

And somehow, after all these years, my heart still reacted first whenever she got close.

She slowed when she noticed me sitting there.

I watched confusion cross her face first.

Then mild annoyance.

Cute.

“Um,” she said politely, “sorry, I think you’re sitting in my seat.”

God.

That voice.

My chest tightened painfully.

I turned slowly.

And there it was.

Recognition.

Shock.

Memories crashing into her all at once behind those brown eyes.

“…Reig?”

I almost laughed.

Right.

Old name.

Back then everyone used my English name because teachers thought it sounded more “formal.”

“There she is,” I said softly.

Her stare intensified like she still couldn’t process me properly.

And honestly?

I understood.

Because I was having the exact same problem.

The little girl I remembered had grown into a woman beautiful enough to ruin a man’s peace permanently.

“You’re back?” she asked.

Her voice sounded smaller now.

Awkward.

Careful.

I didn’t like it.

Not because she owed me comfort.

But because Clara was never supposed to feel uncomfortable around me.

“Just this month,” I answered.

She nodded slowly before glancing around awkwardly like she wanted to disappear.

Rabbit.

You used to hit my arm whenever I annoyed you.

What happened?

“Is this your chair?” I asked.

“…Yes.”

“Hm.”

I smiled slightly.

“Guess you’ll have to sit beside me then.”

The table exploded immediately.

Clara looked moments away from evaporating.

Cute.

Very cute.

She sat beside me carefully, avoiding eye contact.

That bothered me more than it should.

Because the Clara I remembered would’ve already started arguing with me.

Instead, she looked nervous.

Small.

Tired.

I watched her fingers tighten around her glass.

“How much did you drink?” I asked quietly.

“Enough.”

“You don’t drink.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “You remember that?”

I almost said:

I remember everything about you.

Instead, I only shrugged lightly.

“You used to cry after one sip of beer.”

“That happened once.”

“You cried because it was bitter.”

“It was bitter.”

I laughed quietly.

And there she was.

Just for a second.

My rabbit.

Her expression softened slightly before she remembered herself and looked away again.

Damn it.

I wanted that version back.

The rest of the night blurred into conversations and noise, but my attention stayed fixed on Clara almost constantly.

She barely spoke unless someone addressed her directly.

And every time people talked about careers or achievements, she withdrew further into herself.

I noticed.

Of course, I noticed.

“You okay?” I asked once quietly.

“Just sleepy.”

Lie.

But I let it go.

For now.

Later, someone suddenly slammed a bottle onto the table.

“TRUTH OR DARE!”

Everyone immediately started yelling.

Clara physically looked like she wanted to die.

I smiled slightly.

Still hates games.

“Come on!” Mika complained. “One round!”

“No blackmail questions,” someone warned.

“No promises,” Marco answered.

The bottle spun.

People cheered dramatically until it stopped.

Pointing directly at me.

“Ohhhh!”

I leaned back casually while everyone yelled over each other.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“BORING.”

One of the girls leaned forward immediately. “Do you have someone special?”

The table screamed like hormonal teenagers.

I could’ve avoided the question easily.

But instead my eyes moved automatically toward Clara.

She looked exhausted.

Tipsy.

Beautiful.

And completely unaware of how important she still was to me.

“Yeah,” I answered simply.

Silence.

Then absolute chaos.

“WHAT?”

“NO WAY.”

“WHO?”

Across from me, Clara froze before forcing out an awkward little smile.

There it is again.

That fake smile she used whenever something hurt her feelings.

Interesting.

“Who is she?” Marco demanded.

“What’s her name?”

I kept my eyes on Clara for one second longer before looking away.

“She’s private.”

“OHHHH.”

“You’re whipped already!”

Clara immediately grabbed her drink.

Avoiding eye contact again.

Cute.

But also frustrating.

Because why did she look uncomfortable?

Did she really think I came back and forgot about her completely?

The bottle spun again several rounds later.

People got dares.

Someone had to sing.

Someone confessed to cheating during exams years ago.

Clara looked progressively sleepier beside me.

At one point her shoulder almost bumped mine before she caught herself.

Adorable.

Then the bottle landed on her.

The table erupted immediately.

Her eyes widened slowly like she had just woken up from hibernation.

“Claraaaa.”

“Truth or dare?”

She blinked.

Then unexpectedly—

“Dare.”

The entire table screamed.

Even I looked surprised.

Brave rabbit.

Mika grinned wickedly. “Okay then…”

Clara immediately looked terrified.

“Okay, your dare is to reveal your first crush through a song.”

Dead silence.

And then Clara choked on absolutely nothing.

I bit the inside of my cheek hard to stop myself from laughing.

Because judging from the panic on her face

She remembered.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

“Pass,” she muttered immediately before dropping her forehead dramatically onto the table.

Everyone screamed louder.

“CHEATER!”

“She’s too drunk!”

“NO PASSING.”

“I’m dying,” Clara mumbled against the table.

I laughed quietly beside her.

And for the first time that night, she looked up at me directly.

Her cheeks were flushed from alcohol.

Eyes sleepy.

Pouty mouth slightly irritated.

Beautiful.

Absolutely beautiful.

“Why are you laughing?” she accused softly.

“You’re cute.”

The words slipped out naturally.

Clara stared at me.

Then immediately looked away.

Yeah.

Definitely not ready yet.

By the time the reunion started ending, Clara looked seconds away from falling asleep sitting upright.

People slowly gathered their things while saying goodbye.

I watched Clara stand unsteadily from her chair.

Nope.

Absolutely not.

“I’ll drive you home,” I said immediately.

Her head snapped toward me.

“No.”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m functional.”

“You almost fell onto the table five minutes ago.”

“That was the floor’s fault.”

I smiled despite myself.

Still stubborn.

“I’m driving you.”

“No need,” she insisted weakly.

Then immediately lost balance slightly.

I grabbed her elbow automatically.

Warm skin.

Soft.

Clara froze.

So did I for half a second.

Her eyes lifted toward mine slowly.

Too close.

Way too dangerous.

“Rabbit,” I said quietly, “you can barely stand.”

She blinked at the nickname.

And something vulnerable crossed her expression for just a second.

Like hearing, it unlocked an old memory she forgot she still carried.

Then softly

“…You still call me that?”

Always.

But I only smiled slightly instead.

“Come on.”

This time she didn’t argue anymore.