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I'm not fond of women.
Now before you jump to conclusions, let me clarify that statement. I have nothing against the female race aside from how confusing they can be. It's just that I have never really been into women. Into a woman, in particular.
People describe high school as the cradle of first love. High school is when most people discover the concept of falling in love and enter a relationship for the first time.
Not me, though. I've never fancied a lady in high school. Even now that I'm in college. In my entire life, actually, much to my father's dismay. I've never had romantic feelings for someone. I've never had a crush on a girl. I've never had an actual girlfriend. Nothing.
Why am I talking about this? Let me bring you back to a conversation I had the other day.
"Another love letter, huh? Who is it from this time?" I asked Alistair who took a seat in front of me. He put his bag down and placed his other things on the table — a textbook on taxation, a notebook, a pen pouch, and a little pink envelope.
He glanced at the item upon my mention of it and chuckled awkwardly. "A girl from the Law department, I think."
"A law student? Again? Nakakarami ka na, ah! Even older girls are starting to express interest in you." Sigmund, showing up out of nowhere, took a seat and placed a tray with three cups on the table. One was for Al, one was for me, and the last one was for himself.
'Who's this Sigmund fellow?' I can hear you ask. He's a Psychology student who works at the tea shop my friends and I frequent. Actually, he's the assistant manager. He became a close acquaintance of mine due to our similarities. He's also a detective of sorts who likes observing the most minute details about other people. I bet that's why he decided to work in this detective agency with a tea shop front.
Oh, don't be surprised that I found out. I merely suspected based on the facts.
"Did you know that he got confessed to twice yesterday? He rejected them both." I sipped on my tea.
"Shouldn't you be working right now?" Alistair asked in an attempt to change the topic.
Sigmund flashed a grin. "Don't worry! I'm on my break. There aren't many customers needed to be served anyway. 'Di pa naman rush hour."
He sipped his tea and put the cup down. "Seriously, why do you keep on rejecting those poor girls? You're single, right? Don't you want to give dating a try?"
"When I find someone who's my type," Alistair answered with a genuine smile. His type, huh? Countless admirers and none of them were his type. Even I was starting to grow curious about what kind of woman Alistair would deem a worthy dating prospect.
"What a walking heartbreak you are." Sigmund then turned to me, his next target. "I assume you still don't have a girl either?"
"No," I answered coldly. "You don't have one either so—"
"Oops! We're talking about you here." Sigmund put his hand up and cut me off. "You said you don't have a girlfriend. So, just to be clear, you don't have a thing with that girl from Journ?"
I raised an eyebrow. "A thing with who now?"
"Lorelei?" Alistair answered like a question.
"Yes, her!" Sigmund clapped his hands once before jerking his thumb over to his colleague. "Because my friend over here thinks she's cute."
"Hoy!" His friend stopped mopping and suddenly turned around. "Nandamay ka pa, ah!"
With lips parted in surprise, his panicked eyes darted to me and my tea-mates. I focused on the golden nameplate attached to his maroon vest. Nikolai, it read.
"Lorelei has admirers here too, huh?" Alistair said with a slow nod. "I'm not really surprised. She used to have a number of them in high school."
"Nagagandahan lang naman ako!" Nikolai defended himself from a distance. His words fell on deaf ears, though.
"But no one's confessed to her yet. Her potential suitors are cowards," I spoke.
Sigmund let out a laugh. "Of course no one confesses to her, lemon pie! Everyone thinks she's with you."
I nearly spat out my tea.
I let out a few coughs to clear my throat. Alistair leaned forward to pat my back while our other companion just looked at me with an amused smile. This spawn of the devil. Should I just choke him with my bare hands?
"What the hell are you talking about?" I glared at Sigmund, extremely confused.
"I mean, you're always together. You eat together. You study together. Minsan sabay pa nga kayong pumapasok at umuuwi, eh," he explained with a shrug. "You really don't have a thing with her? Or a thing for her, rather?"
"Just because two people do things together doesn't mean they're dating. We're friends," I clarified.
Sigmund raised a brow in disbelief. "Just friends?"
"Just friends."
"Hoy, Nik! Just friends daw!" he told his friend with a teasing grin. Nikolai threatened to hit him with the mop, his grip tight, and threw a glare to shut Sigmund up.
After that, Sigmund continued interrogating me just when I thought we were already done with this topic. He leaned forward and looked me in the eye. "You really don't like her?"
"I like her, of course."
"You do?" Alistair blurted out from the side.
"I do. Platonically."
Sigmund and I had a 5-second staring contest. I guess he was analyzing my pupils to see if I was lying or not. A typical strategy. I knew, however, that I won the moment he shut his eyes and sighed. I silently celebrated my victory.
"Either you're getting better at this game or my theory must have been wrong. Damn." He leaned back in his seat, evidently disappointed at his loss. "But she's cute, though! Don't you at least think so?"
I put my cup down and sighed in frustration as I felt the blood rush up to my head. "Why are you so interested in my love life? I don't have one for Pete's sake."
"I'm just asking you if you find the girl pretty! It's a yes or no question! Why can't you just answer it?" he asked like a curious showbiz reporter fishing for hot issues and blind items. Why couldn't he just shut up and accept his defeat?
I bit my lip to keep myself from bursting in irritation and took that time to think of an answer. "She's—"
"Welcome to Moriartea, ma'am!" the mop guy suddenly exclaimed. The tiny bell above the shop door rang a twinkle-like sound. Our conversation stopped there.
Sigmund looked over his shoulder at the lady who just entered. He stood up and carried his cup to the counter. "Sorry, shortcakes! Duty calls. I enjoyed having tea with you, though! As usual."
He then lead the woman up to the 2nd floor and vanished from our sight.
"Loki!"
I broke away from my daydream upon hearing the call of my name. I turned my head to see Lorelei with a camera — my camera, by the way — hung around her neck. Her arms were crossed.
"Are you even listening to me?" she asked, unamused. I was about to reply when she suddenly placed her hand on my forehead, her eyes full of concern. "Kanina ka pa tulala, ah. You're not sick, are you?"
"I'm fine." I held her wrist and moved her hand away from my face. "You were saying?"
"Sabi ko, samahan mo ‘kong maglibot-libot." She took the camera off and tip-toed to hang it on my neck like a medal. The distance between our faces diminished. I leaned my head back a little and cleared my throat.
"Take pictures while I interview people around. Kailangan ko ring interview-hin ang mga taga-student council for their statements so take a picture of those officers too whoever they are, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am." I nodded at Lorelei before following her steps. She was my boss for today.
Clark University was full of color and life due to the preparations for Foundation Week. As we walked down the wide pathways of the school, we passed by groups of students hanging blue banderitas on the posts and setting up booths.
I snapped a photo of a guy on a ladder, holding one end of the banderitas and pointing at the other side of the path. He was screaming instructions to the guy across him who was holding the other side of the banderitas. I recognized them as members of the student executive committee because of their pins.
"Wait! There!" Lorelei suddenly held my shoulder so I stopped walking. She pointed to a group of students wearing all white setting up a food booth. "I-interview-hin ko muna, ah? Take photos!"
She ran towards the students' direction and took out her phone for voice recording. As I followed her at a slower pace, I took some photos of my surroundings. There was a lot of interesting action to be captured.
From a short distance, I took a photo of Lorelei interviewing the students. I could faintly hear her questions and the interviewees' answers. After a minute of question-and-answer with the Culinary third-years, she thanked them and I took a quick photo of the students behind the booth.
"Where to next?" I asked Lorelei, still following her from behind like a lost pet.
"The gymnasium," she answered. Her eyes were focused on her phone. "Nandoon daw 'yung student council to prepare for the opening ceremony."
We were met with noise coming from different directions upon entering the gymnasium. There were a lot of people around preparing the venue for tomorrow, stationed at different corners of the gym. I slowed down to take a photo of students hanging up banners by the bleachers.
"Loki, come here!" Lorelei called from in front of the stage. I made my way through the crowd and brisk-walked towards her direction.
I raised my gaze from the camera, ready to snap another photo upon instruction. However, I paused in my tracks upon seeing the man Lorelei was talking with. That silhouette. I can recognize it from a mile away, even with one eye closed.
A few steps later, our eyes met. I squinted at him, equal parts amused and not.
"Fancy seeing you here, Mr. President." I greeted my brother with a teasing smile and took a photo of him with the camera flash on. "Enjoying the leg work?"
"You know my honest answer to that question already," he answered in his usual cold tone. "But there's a lot of work to be done for tomorrow's opening event. Someone has to supervise the preparations, don't you think?" He signed a document on a clipboard before handing it back to his secretary.
"Pity you couldn't hand the supervising job to your vice-president this time. Your absence would paint you in a bad light, wouldn't it?"
"My absence would paint the entire council in a bad light," he replied in a stern tone. "I am ensuring the success of tomorrow's ceremony by handling the preparations personally. And for your information, the vice-president is busy supervising the pageant candidates' practice." He turned his head to the stage.
"Okay, you two. Cut it out already. Mamaya na kayo mag-away," Lorelei scolded before I could reply a comeback to my brother. She took out her phone again and I took that as my cue to step back to the optimal picture-taking distance. "Shall we start the interview now, Mr. President?"
"Whenever you're ready, Lorelei."
I snapped a photo of them together, then a photo of my brother alone. He was wearing the student council's signature polo shirt and I framed his photo to catch the logo on it. I could already hear his admirers (he had a few thanks to my parents' good-looking genes, unfortunately) squealing upon the sight of the photo I took once Lori's news article gets published.
I intently watched Lorelei do her interview. The interviewee was a person of interest, after all. She asked about my brother's hopes for Foundation Week and his message to the student body, blah blah. I was on the lookout for a slip of the tongue.
Her eyes focused on her phone and on my brother alternatively with a few nods. She bit her bottom lip — a habit she did whenever she was focused on something.
I had an epiphany as I continued to watch Lorelei do her thing. Interviewing people. Documenting events. Journalism. This was what her future is going to look like. In the next 5 or 10 years, Lorelei would be doing this in a professional setting under an actual media company.
From the look in her eyes, I could sense her love for her work. I felt a tug at my chest. Admittedly, the scene touched me. A few years ago, she was just talking about becoming a journalist. Now, she's actually working her way towards making that dream a reality.
Since when was I so sentimental? I was like a dad watching her daughter grow.
I felt the side of my lips curve into a slight smile. I secretly took a photo of her, capturing all her focus, determination, and passion in a single frame.
Like my brother said, there was indeed a group of students on the stage busy practicing performance routines. A short-haired woman wearing the same polo shirt as my brother was busy clapping her hands, chanting 1-2-3 to the beat. The vice-president. I stepped back to take a photo of her and the candidates.
"That will be all, Mr. President!" Lorelei announced. "Loki, you took a picture, right?"
"Oh, I took plenty." I gave my brother a mischievous grin. He responded with silence, a cold expression plastered on his face as usual. His Excellency, President Lucian Thoren Mendez — truly the personification of ice. Lorelei headed towards the vice president's direction and left me alone with my brother.
"I should be the one to say 'fancy meeting you here.' This is the first time I've seen you in action," he broke the silence after a few awkward seconds. "When I first heard about you joining the publication, I actually thought it was a joke. I never deemed you as someone with the heart for photojournalism."
I took a photo of some random student at the sideline, only so I wouldn't have to look at my brother in the eye. "I don't. They needed a replacement for when their photojournalist suddenly dropped out so Lorelei decided to drag me into this mess. She said that I should put my photography skills to good use." I shrugged.
"You joined the publication for her?" my brother asked.
"Because of her," I corrected. "I was personally recruited by the Clarion's News Editor so I took the offer up. Are your comprehension skills getting rusty?"
"Definitely not." He looked at me for a few moments before adjusting his collar and taking a step past me. "As per your words, I still have a supervising job to finish and a lot of leg work to do. I'll leave you to do your photojournalist duties in peace. I would appreciate it if you took more good photos of me and my staff, by the way."
Him and his staff, huh? "This politician..." I scoffed as I watched him walk away. I looked around before spotting Lorelei and the vice-president still together.
I adjusted my position and zoomed in the lens. I already had a photo of the veep so I took a photo of Lorelei alone. She was sporting a white polo shirt with the publication logo on the right side of her chest. Her lips were parted — she was talking, after all — and her hand holding the phone was stretched out.
I took another photo of her interviewing a pageant candidate. She flashed a polite smile at the interviewee and a light dimple showed up on her cheek. I wasn't listening to them but I think the candidate said something amusing because Lorelei's smile went wide.
Then, at the perfect split-second, I snapped a photo of Lorelei laughing. She squinted, her smile reaching her eyes. You could even see her upper teeth in the photo. The sides of her chestnut hair framed her face beautifully.
I felt a foreign sensation in my chest as I reviewed the photo. It made me smile. The framing and timing of the shot were perfect. The photo was perfect.
"I thought you were supposed to take photos of the preparations?"
Oh, crap.
I whipped my head to the side where the voice came from. "Are you some sort of mushroom? Why are you even here?"
"My org is helping out with the decorations," Alistair jerked his thumb over his shoulder before glancing back down at the camera. Lorelei's photo was still on it. "Nice shot, by the way."
"Thank you...?" I didn't know what to say. I admit that I also felt embarrassed by the fact that he caught me taking a photo of something definitely not the preparations.
"May I?" He pressed the previous button of the camera. Other photos of Lorelei came up and his smile turned into a silent laugh. "Quite a number of photos with Lori in them, no?"
"They are essential for documentation."
"Wala naman akong sinabi." He grinned, flashing his pearl-white teeth as usual. "But objectively speaking, the photos are really pretty."
"Having a pretty subject helps, I think," I suddenly blurted out without much thinking.
Wait, what?
I blinked upon realizing what I just said. Pretty subject. I called her, Lorelei, a pretty subject.
My words seemed to have frozen Alistair in place. He looked just as surprised as I was with myself. With an amused expression on his face, he let out a chuckle. "Have you thought of an answer to Sigmund's question the other day?"
"Absolutely not. I forgot about it," I lied, hoping my lazy answer would keep him from inquiring further.
But then, he continued. "Well, you can start thinking about it now."
Alistair pressed a button to show Lorelei's photo again from the gallery. The one where she was laughing. The split-second shot.
The foreign-sensation-inducing shot.
The best photograph I took today.
"Let me rephrase the question. Photography is an art, isn't it?" he asked. "From an artist's perspective, is Lorelei worth becoming your muse?"
How poetic. "Is this still about her beauty or something else?"
"It only becomes about something else the moment you start being honest with your feelings."
"What feelings are you even talking about?" I scoffed.
"The ones you keep denying."
I squinted, caught off-guard. "Excuse me?"
"The ones you've been denying for so long," he reiterated.
Denying for so long, he said. That didn't make sense. How could I deny something I wasn't aware of? Something I didn't know existed? Something I didn't even consider existed until now that he's mentioned it?
Not sure of what to reply, I stared at the photo on display before raising my gaze to the real-life Lorelei. She was walking towards the stairs of the stage to head down. Her hair swayed with every step. Our eyes met for a moment and she gave me a smile in greeting.
My breath hitched.
I thought of Alistair's words about feelings again. Damn him. His food for thought was affecting my reactions to the tiniest things.
"Nakuha mo na?" Lorelei asked from the stage, pretending to take a photo with her hands. I nodded and she gave me a satisfied grin.
That smile was becoming a dangerous force to be reckoned with.
From my peripherals, I could hear my friend chuckle. It didn't annoy me this time, though. I was too focused on other things. I let out a single chuckle myself, failing to keep the sides of my lips from curving up. I felt like an idiot.
"You're smiling," he pointed out. "She's making you smile. She always makes you smile."
I ducked my head for a second, realizing he was right. "I guess so."
"I'm not pressuring you or anything, but don't you think it's time to examine what you really feel? Put a label on your emotions?" Alistair inquired softly, trying not to sound too intrusive but also urging me to admit something. "You like her, don't you?"
Like... her?
His question echoed repeatedly in my ear, and so did everything else he said to me.
Don't you think it's time to examine what you really feel? Put a label on your emotions?
She's making you smile. She always makes you smile.
The feelings you've been denying for so long.
You like her, don't you?
I was about to reply with a resounding no, but then I realized that this was a mystery for me to solve. For me alone.
I slowly put the puzzle pieces together in my mind like I did in every case in high school. How nerve-wracking. How exciting. How satisfying. It felt the exact same every time.
Only now, there was that subtle foreign tug at my chest again. You know? The one I felt when I reviewed her photos. And when she placed her hand on my forehead. And when she hung the camera around my neck. And when she bit her lip in concentration. And when that dimple of hers showed up. And whenever she smiled. And whenever she laughed. And whenever she—
Oh.
The last piece clicked in place.
No way. The puzzle that formed in my head seemed so… unbelievable. Unthinkable. What an utterly ridiculous twist of fate. In my many years of sleuthing, I have never come across this kind of case and conclusion before. Me? Of all people? The last man on Earth who Cupid would ever want to interact with? I’m no idiot but me falling for— God, there just had to be no way that this was true.
But then again, Sherlock Holmes once said that “Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.” The truth… that I have no choice but to accept. Denying it now would prove useless, wouldn’t it? Feelings, as Alistair called them, aren’t switches you can turn on and off at instant command.
I couldn’t believe it... but it looks like I've found my answer. Case closed.
Just what has this woman done to me?
Without taking my eyes off Lorelei, I answered Alistair in all the honesty I was now aware of. "Artist's perspective... perhaps."
(ending theme: Heart Can't Lose - Zack Tabudlo)