Six

"I don't have time for that, and those kinds of things are too complicated," I replied, offering the same answer or excuse I always gave whenever someone asked me a similar question.

"Okay," Yuhan simply said. He had heard that answer from me countless times.

"What about you? Why haven't you introduced any flings lately?" I asked Yuhan, turning the tables on him.

"I'm tired of playing games. I want something serious," he replied, his voice laced with a newfound resolve.

"Hmmm..."

"How about we be together?" Yuhan asked, the words hanging in the air like a sudden gust of wind.

Boom! I didn't expect that. It never even crossed my mind that such a thought would enter his head. I didn't know how to feel; all I knew was that my heart was pounding like a drum.

"Hey! You're not saying anything?" He gently shook my shoulder to make sure I was still awake.

"Huh? What was that?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. But the truth was, his question was echoing in my mind, replaying over and over. I was too overwhelmed with joy, amazement, and shock to respond.

Yuhan chuckled at my reaction. "I said, how about we have sex?" he said, then playfully nudged his groin against my backside.

The sudden shift from a seemingly romantic question to a crude proposition was jarring, like a bucket of cold water thrown in my face. It was a stark reminder of the complex and often confusing nature of our relationship. One moment, he was hinting at something deeper, something meaningful, and the next, he was back to his usual playful, sexually charged banter. It was a whiplash of emotions, leaving me disoriented and unsure of how to proceed. I was left wondering if the previous comment had any real meaning behind it at all. He was so confusing.

I felt like I had been slapped across the face. Was that really what he had said earlier? Had I misheard him? Which of his two questions was the joke, the first or the second? My heart suddenly felt like it was being squeezed, a pain far more intense than any heartburn. I knew I shouldn't be angry, that he was just joking, but because I had momentarily believed he was serious when he asked me to be his girlfriend, his joke had a much deeper impact on me.

"You jerk! Just go to sleep. All you think about is sex. You're even more perverted than..." I couldn't finish my sentence because he suddenly kissed me. It was a gentle kiss, unlike any of the passionate kisses we had shared before. It felt like it held a hidden depth, a secret message that I couldn't quite decipher.

"Goodnight, Kyla," he said softly after the kiss, then snuggled closer to me, wrapping his arms around me.

I couldn't respond. I simply closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the rapid succession of events. I couldn't distinguish between what was real and what was merely a fleeting illusion. I heard Yuhan sigh heavily. At the same time, a single tear escaped my eye. I didn't know why I was crying, but a part of my heart felt deeply saddened. There was an inexplicable weight on my chest, a heaviness that settled deep within me. The confusion, the disappointment, the lingering hope that he might have meant what he said, it all coalesced into a knot of emotions that I couldn't untangle. The gentle kiss, the whispered goodnight, they were like fragments of a dream, tantalizingly close but ultimately elusive. I was left adrift in a sea of uncertainty, unsure of where I stood, unsure of what the future held. The silence that filled the room was heavy with unspoken words, with unacknowledged feelings, with the lingering question that hung between us, unanswered and unresolved. I tried to calm my thoughts but failed. Sleep was not coming easily tonight.

Did Yuhan really see me as nothing more than a sexual object, someone he could call on whenever he wanted? Did he want a relationship with me just to have unlimited access to me for sex? I knew that many people saw me as a bitch or a slut, but I didn't care what they thought. But when the person you loved thought of you that way, it was a completely different feeling. It felt like being cut repeatedly with a blade, tiny wounds that, when combined, became unbearable.

I looked at Yuhan. His eyes were closed, but I knew he was still awake. My body moved on its own. I kissed him, passionately, fiercely, desperately. He opened his eyes, and I looked into them as I kissed his lips. He didn't respond to my kisses, but I didn't care. I poured all my feelings, all my hurt, all my anger from earlier into the kiss. I tried to force my tongue into his mouth, but he still didn't respond. I kissed him for almost two minutes. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions. In the eyes of others, what I was doing was wrong and meaningless, and even I wasn't convinced that I was doing the right thing. I was acting like a slut because that's how he saw me, and instead of correcting his perception, I chose to prove him right.

I climbed on top of Yuhan. I paused my kisses, taking a moment to look at him. I felt his arousal beneath his boxer shorts, but his face was expressionless. Blank. I stared into his eyes for more than ten seconds, trying to memorize the face of the man I secretly loved. Tears streamed down my face, but I didn't bother to hide them because it was dark in the room. I leaned down and kissed his neck. I used all the techniques I knew to pleasure a man. Yuhan did not protest. He just let me do what I wanted. He didn't moan in pleasure or encourage me to continue. He just went with the flow.

Throughout our lovemaking, I cried. Tears that wanted to say so much, to explain so much, to express so much. I knew that only rape victims cried during sex, but in my case, I was the one committing the act, and I was the one crying. Maybe it was because I knew the weight of what I was doing, and I knew how our story would end after this.

After we both reached our climax, I lay down beside him, staring at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath. I got up to get dressed, wanting to go home to our house in Bulacan. I could still catch a ride, even though it was late at night. The urge to flee, to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the room, was overwhelming. I needed to put distance between us, to create a physical barrier between my heart and the man who had just shattered it.

"You still haven't answered my question from earlier, will you be my girlfriend, Kyla?" he asked, his voice serious and sincere.

I paused briefly while putting on my pants. But I chose not to answer the question, the question I had longed for him to ask me, but now I wished I had never heard. It was all so confusing. I remained silent, finishing dressing in front of him. I was about to walk out the door when he asked again.

"Are you even capable of loving, Kyla?" he asked, his voice laced with sadness, but I could also detect a hint of disgust.

It hit me hard. It was incredibly painful.

That was the second question I wasn't expecting tonight.

I took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. I was on the verge of breaking down.

"No. You know the rules, Yuhan. Sex is all I can offer. It's always been about sex," I replied, my voice steady and unwavering, despite the turmoil inside.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Please lock the front door when you leave," he said, then turned over and lay face down on his bed. I just stared at him, taking one last look before I left the room, trying to memorize the image of him lying there. He looked defeated. His words were so cold.