Like Nobody's Watching

by Tara Frejas

  After AlvezCueta died a sudden death, Pio decided he was done tailoring his daily life to match whatever image it was the public wanted to see. He was still relatively new to mainstream show business, but he was already tired of curating aspects of his day that used to be more spontaneous. So what if he partied every few nights and had a few drinks? So what if he flirted around or went out with someone? He wasn’t committing a crime.

  Living life shouldn’t feel like he was trapped in a cage he willingly walked into. That he had let the promise of a more successful career dictate some of his life choices was regretful, but there was no use crying over spilled milk. That phase was done, and he was taking his life back.

  “Tiresome, huh?”

  “Depends on how you look at it, I guess,” Pio mused. “I’ll always be thankful that I was given opportunities, you know? There are a lot of people who would kill to be in my shoes. It’s just sometimes you realize…some things are just not worth sacrificing what’s important to you for.”

  “I see.”

  “So really...this—” He mimicked the hand gesture she did earlier. “This is okay.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  SIX

  O ne week later

  There’s an equation in Metro Manila that goes: Payday plus Friday plus sudden downpour equals carmageddon. Audrey was thankful Pio knew this equation quite well and picked her up from work early, or they still would have been stuck in traffic at seven in the evening.

  But that wouldn’t have been as disastrous as running into her ex-boyfriend and his new squeeze at the venue lobby. Fully expecting this scenario didn’t necessarily mean she was equipped for the whiplash of emotions seeing them in the flesh would bring.

  Her heart ached at seeing Luigi, dashing in a light gray shirt and black coat that was his favorite. She could still remember steam ironing that same coat a few times before, leaving notes in its breast pocket for him to find. She remembered the feel of satin under her fingers when she ran them along the lapels, a prelude to a kiss.

  Audrey clenched her fists and reminded herself that that coat and the man wearing it weren’t hers to touch any longer.

  Latched onto Luigi was Cassie, who looked even more radiant in person, graceful and elegant in a little black dress and silver Louboutins.

  Bowing her head, Audrey pretended not to see the couple as they walked through the glass doors of the SMX Convention Center, laughing over something Luigi had said. She turned around and picked up a programme from the registration table.

  “Audrey?”

  Fuck it. She shouldn’t have agreed to go ahead while Pio excused himself to take a call from his manager.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Luigi leave Cassie by the main entrance and approach her. She wanted to flee, but her heart weighed a ton and it dropped to her feet, immobilizing her.

  Don’t talk to me, for the love of god.

  And as if the universe heard her silent prayer, Pio’s voice echoed loud across the hall. “I’m here!”

  Audrey spun around and saw Pio rushing toward her, hastily putting on a midnight blue coat over his white V-neck. “Sorry, I took so long,” he said, out of breath. “My manager’s just so—”

  “Mr. Alvez!” Luigi called out. “What a surprise.”

  Audrey noticed the side glance Pio threw her way. She wouldn’t put it past him to realize who this man was before Luigi could introduce himself.

  “I’m Luigi Blanco.” He smiled, hand held out for a handshake.

  Pio gave him a once-over before taking his hand, beaming a toothpaste commercial smile. “Pio Alvez. Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise. Your brother and I are batch mates, did you know that?” Luigi declared, as though their affiliation should hold some significance, but the actor didn’t seem impressed.

  “Ah—I guess that’s why you invited him here, as well?”

  “That’s correct. But I can see he sent you over instead.”

  “Nah.” Pio let go of Luigi’s hand and took Audrey’s instead. With a gentle tug, he pulled her to his side and flashed her an adoring smile. His eyes were still on her when he said, “I came as Audrey’s date.”

  The look on Luigi’s face was priceless.

  Halfway through dinner, Audrey wanted to cancel her evening.

  It had nothing to do with Pio—who played his role to perfection, by the way—and everything to do with how they were seated at a table with Luigi and Cassie. Why she thought she had the stomach to witness them being disgustingly saccharine was beyond her.

  Was she invisible? How was it possible for Luigi to act so indifferent in front of her, to look at her like he had never loved her at all? How could he act so coolly, like he had never done anything to hurt her?

  That’s it. I’m out of here, she thought, when Luigi and Cassie started kissing. She told Pio to meet her outside, excused herself from the table, and bolted out of there as fast as she could.

  She had reached the lobby when she heard Pio call out to her, his voice almost drowned out by the loud click-clacking of her heels against the marble floor. She ignored him, went straight out the glass doors and down the mall escalator.

  “Audrey, where are you going?”

  Heck if she knew. All she wanted was to not breathe the same air as Luigi Blanco again.

  Pio caught up with her when she got off the escalator, but she kept walking. Damn it, why is this mall so huge?

  “Audrey, slow down for a second!” He overtook her in a few strides and stood in her way, pausing when he got a good look of her face.

  Fuck. Did Pio always have to see her crying? She had never felt so vulnerable and pathetic.

  “It’s okay,” he said and gathered her in his arms, ran his hand down her hair. “It’s gonna be okay.”

  “It’s not. I shouldn’t have come here,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this. I just want to go home.”

  The way he pulled away from the embrace made it seem like the words burned him. He looked into her eyes. “What, and let him win?”

  “He’d already won.”

  “No, he hasn’t.” His face hardened, the first time she had ever seen this expression on him. “The night isn’t over yet. He can’t win if you won’t let him. Can’t you see? Coming here was already half the battle!”

  “I can’t...breathe in that room!” she whispered, swiping tears off her cheeks.

  Pio offered her a handkerchief he produced from his coat’s breast pocket. Like his eyes, his voice mellowed as he spoke. “Let me help you.”

  This boy just won’t give up. Audrey wanted to laugh. She was sorry she had involved him in her mess, but she was grateful for him all the same. Even if she had only roped him in this little charade, it was comforting to know she had someone on her side.

  She dabbed his handkerchief on her cheeks, catching a gentle whiff of cologne, the same one he was wearing. The scent was warm and calming, and she found herself wanting to bury her face in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

  Come on now, Audrey. Get it together.

  Firm hands squeezed the balls of her shoulders, snapping her back to reality. “What did I tell you before? I told you to be happy, right?” Pio asked.

  A protest weaseled its way up her throat, but he spoke again. “I know. It’s not easy. No matter what, being happy will never be easy. But trust me—you can fake it until it feels real. I’m here. I’ll help you if you let me.”

  With narrowed eyes, she asked, “Are you telling me to act like I’m happy?”

  “With me, yes.”

  Huh. There was an origin story here, Audrey realized, as Pio asserted this idea. It was as if he had a playbook tucked away somewhere, and this was his takeaway. Fake it until it feels real.

  What else could she lose if he believed him, just this once?

  “What do I do?”

  “For now, breathe. When you’re ready, we’ll walk back in there like nothing happened.”

  S
he took a deep breath, held it in for a second, and exhaled. Again, she told herself. Breathe.

  “We’ve been gone a while, haven’t we?” she asked later, when it didn’t feel like she was running a marathon anymore.

  “Yes, but...” A corner of Pio’s lips lifted up in a smirk. “I have an idea.”

  “Where have you been?” SFM production head Ayo Ruiz asked when Audrey returned to her seat. Pio casually took the seat beside her and grabbed a glass of water. He emptied it in one huge gulp.

  Don’t answer questions, was one of Pio’s instructions. Just smile.

  And so she did. She smiled and said nothing until everyone at the VIP table—from Ayo and his wife Mara, Crissy Medina, SFM’s creative head, and Luigi and Cassie—pretended a question had not been asked in the first place. On stage, a live band began their set, distraction of the best kind.

  Pio placed a warm hand on her shoulder, an encouraging gesture she took as “Relax, you’re doing great.”

  Tension rose after Crissy not-so-subtly pointed out the lipstick stain by Pio’s lips. He grabbed a cloth napkin and wiped the incriminating mark away. “Thanks,” he told Crissy and turned to Audrey with an impish, knowing smile.

  “Think of this as playing catch. I’ll throw something your way, you catch it, no matter what. You can throw it right back at me or keep it. Your call. But never look at me like you’re wondering why I’m doing what I’m doing.”

  It was easy enough to catch that infectious smile and mirror it back to him. The way her cheeks burned under his gaze wasn’t planned, though.

  “So—Mr. Alvez...”

  Pio straightened his back and looked at Luigi. “Please, just call me Pio.”

  “Pio.” Luigi cleared his throat. “What happened to your career, my man? No new projects?”

  Audrey’s brows furrowed. Was that a jab?

  “My plate’s pretty full, actually. It’s just that my current projects aren’t as high-profile as before.” Pio’s tone was unaffected as he spoke. “On weekends, I facilitate workshops for kids at Teatro Lakambini. Weekdays, I bum around with Kuya Datu and help him with music for his new film. He’s a cheapskate that way, pays me in burgers.”

  Everyone at the table laughed, save for Luigi.

  “Are you still a Couch ambassador, though? We made a bid for their couple apparel line, but it looks like their plans fell through. Must suck that Liezl had to fool around like that and ruin things for both of you.”

  “Lui—”

  “If you really made a bid for a Couch campaign—” Pio reached for Audrey’s fist on the table and rubbed his thumb lazily over the back of her hand to placate her. She felt his fingers glide to her wrist, then up her palm when she finally relaxed her clenched hand. He stared at their intertwined fingers with a pleased smile on his face and looked back at Luigi. “—you should have known they’ve given that line to Samantha Lorenzo and Gavin Enriquez.”

  Ayo leaned toward Audrey and whispered, “Is Lui drunk?” She only shrugged. Her ex-boyfriend was being repulsive, that much she knew.

  “And with all due respect, Mr. Blanco...” Audrey saw an angry glint appear in Pio’s eyes, dissipating just as quickly when he suddenly grinned at the COO. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t talk about my co-star that way, thank you.”

  Pio didn’t wait for Luigi to say anything and simply turned to Audrey with a fond smile. He jerked his head toward the dance floor. “Let’s dance, babe.”

  SEVEN

  O f the couples on the dance floor that night, Pio and Audrey were the youngest. Either SFM’s employees and guests thought the 70s OPM medley was strictly for the baby boomers at tables 3 and 4, or they simply couldn’t be bothered to let go of their phones and have a little fun.

  He didn’t mind. The only thing that mattered now was that he was holding Audrey’s hand, and that she was laughing as they fumbled with their footwork while attempting to dance the swing. Soon, they gave up trying and simply moved their bodies to the music, still laughing as they did so.

  The classic VST & Co. medley came to an end, and the band segued to a more contemporary song, one that made Audrey go, “I think you like this song.”

  Surprised, Pio pulled her closer, hand firm around her waist like he demanded an answer. This sort of nearness shouldn’t feel new to him, but it did, somehow. If only he could hold her like this until he found out why.

  “I do, actually,” he said, keeping her body pressed to him. “How’d you know?”

  “I saw Dramachine in your music library.”

  “Ah. Busted.”

  “I’m guessing Datu’s influence?”

  He laughed at Audrey’s intimation, twirling her when the vocalist began singing the chorus to Sugarfree’s Prom. “He played it non-stop back then,” Pio revealed when she spun back into his arms. “It was inevitable.”

  “Knew it.”

  “So you went to college with my brother. Who would’ve thought.”

  “Datu Alvez was an upperclassman. A batch higher.”

  Pio did the math in his head. Despite Audrey’s youthful looks, she was actually four years older than him.

  Wow. That’s actually pretty hot.

  “Let’s talk about kuya some other time,” he proposed, lifting a hand to her hair. All the dancing had messed up her soft curls, and he took it upon himself to smooth them in place. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay,” she replied. “Better.”

  “Good. FYI, your ex-boyfriend has been checking us out since we hit the dance floor.”

  “Really?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Their playful swaying had since relaxed, uncaring of the tempo they were supposed to be dancing to. “Really. His date—who looks really familiar, by the way—left the table a few times, but I don’t think he noticed.”

  “Who even knows what’s going on in that head of his anymore.”

  “I do,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Sometimes we’re just very simple creatures, Audrey. We’re territorial. We don’t like other people hovering over what is ours, or what we think is ours. Your hotshot ex is probably feeling the same way, getting all worked up because someone else found what he chose to leave behind.”

  “Oh no. Are you going to pop a vein?”

  “Is that a joke?”

  Audrey shrugged. “It is if you laugh.”

  He managed a chuckle. There was nothing funny about the thoughts that ran in his head, and it took him a moment to check himself. This night was not about him.

  With a quick glance at their table, Pio saw Luigi’s date tinkering with her phone. She looked bored, and it didn’t take a genius to see why. Luigi Blanco was too busy keeping tabs on his ex to care.

  “What was our ground rule about kissing, again?” he asked, finding Audrey’s eyes on him when he looked back at her.

  She blinked. “Only... if absolutely necessary.”

  “And who decides that, again?” He brought a hand to her cheek, gaze falling on that pretty freckle above her lip. God. Why it had to be there of all places was the universe’s way of testing him. Eyes up, Pio.

  “We didn’t really think it through.”

  Of course, they didn’t. They started laying ground rules five minutes before he entered the mall parking lot. Upon his request. Even then, Audrey wasn’t very participatory. Like she thought they didn’t need it.

  Maybe she didn’t, but he did.

  Because that face. Those eyes, those lips. This dress, by god, this dress. He liked it the moment he saw it, liked how it draped over her curves, liked the way its neckline allowed a peek at the ink below her left collarbone. It was wispy and graceful, a word in Baybayin he knew he would be looking up as soon as he gets a moment, just because.

  Christ.

  Pio made sure Luigi was watching when he swayed Audrey to the music. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he said, smiling when he saw a fleeting look of surprise in her eyes when he gazed back at her.

  That was the only thing she did—look at him in
surprise—and nothing else. She didn’t squirm away from his hold, make a face, or say no like he expected. And he was ready to back off too, if she did.

  But she didn’t, and he leaned in, the split second it took to close the gap between them he used to glance on Luigi Blanco. Oh, he was watching, all right. And by the looks of it, he wasn’t liking the show.

  Pio pressed a kiss on Audrey’s forehead, closed his eyes, and smiled.

  Take that, Douche of Makati.

  “Do you mind if I take my shoes off? My feet are killing me.”

  The first thing Pio noticed when he turned to look at Audrey was that her skirt was hiking way up her leg. A thread might have gotten caught on her sequined purse or something. He cleared his throat and turned his eyes back on the road. “Sure.”

  “I’m sorry. I haven’t apologized yet for Lui.”

  “Why would you apologize for him?” The nickname put a frown on Pio’s face, but even so, his mind was...well, still on the inadvertent display of skin Audrey probably wasn’t yet aware of.

  “He was being an ass earlier. I mean, I know you shot him down, but that’s no way to treat a guest,” she replied. A soft, frustrated groan followed. From the corner of his eye, he saw Audrey tugging at something between her dress and her purse.

  He sighed. “It’s fine. I should be the one apologizing for my gender.”

  “He wasn’t—”

  Pio supposed she was going to defend Luigi and say things like “he didn’t use to be like this,” or, “he’s not all bad when you get to know him.” He braced himself for the excuses, but nothing came.

  Now he loved silence most days, but it was late, and he needed something to wake him up. But if Audrey didn’t feel like it, a conversation was out of the question. After all, she was probably more exhausted than he was. He decided to put some music on instead.

  Kuwentuhan, that Sugarfree song about two people talking, getting to know each other until the wee hours of the morning, started playing. Ironic, since neither of them breathed a word to each other for god knows how long.