Ang Mutya Ng Section E (Book - 2) English

Jay-Jay's POV

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Ci-N asked while eating ice cream.

I kept flipping through the catalog in my hands, ignoring my ringing phone. Meanwhile, the kid had already finished an entire liter of ice cream.

Ci-N glanced at my phone for a moment before going back to what he was doing.

"Are you having an LQ?" he asked.

I didn't respond.

"What is that? No L has a Q," he said.

I frowned. No L yet? What L? The way he twisted things around made it seem like he was winning this conversation. I finally turned to face him.

"What L?" I asked.

"Love," he answered quickly.

Pffft…

"What about Q?"

"Q-lout," he said before bursting into laughter.

Sometimes, this kid really deserved a punch to the face.

"I don't know..." I muttered in frustration, turning back to the catalog.

He told me to pick his place to live, saying he had no clue about that stuff. I was older, after all! But still, I helped him just to keep myself busy.

"Quarrel," he said after laughing.

"Hm?"

"Lover's Quarrel. You and Keifer."

I looked away. "We're not lovers."

"Exactly… That's why there's no L, and you're already at Q," he repeated.

I don't know!

I didn't want to talk about Keifer right now. And I already knew it was him calling me. Whatever! He could do as he pleased.

Ci-N's phone rang. He checked it quickly, then turned to me.

"Keifer has something to say to you," he said. "...If you don't show up in five minutes, he's going to talk to Angelo."

What?! Show up?! Talk to Angelo?!

I turned to Ci-N, waiting for him to say something else, but he just shrugged.

His phone rang again. "He said he's outside."

I nearly fell backward from the impact of that statement. I knew he was planning something! He was really going to tell Kuya Angelo about our relationship.

I ran out, almost tripping over myself. But I didn't care—I needed to stop him before he did something reckless.

When I reached the gate of the house, nothing.

No people, no cars.

That idiot! I was about to go back inside when I spotted a sleek-looking car parked a little further away.

The window was rolled down, and—there he was. That pest!

I stormed toward him, facing the Plague of the King of Snakes.

"Hey! I'm here! What do you want?!" I demanded angrily.

"Get in," he said calmly.

"I don't want to! Just say what you need to say!"

"Get in."

"I said no! If you have nothing to say, leave!"

"Tss."

That's it?! That's all he's going to say?! How useless! I felt like screaming!

"You pest! I'm leaving!"

"You either get in, or I'll make you get in," he said, his voice laced with irritation.

And just like that—I got in.

I didn't even know what came over me. It was like I lost control of myself and climbed into his car. I really had no patience for this kind of anger.

It was just like Kuya's.

The car started quickly, with no hesitation. I just pressed myself against the seat, unsure of where we were going.

It felt too scary to speak. It was like I was sitting next to a dragon ready to breathe fire at me.

"Say something," he suddenly said.

"W-what do you want me to say?"

"Anything. Are you mad at me? Shout at me. Curse me. Say whatever's on your mind!"

Was this his way of fixing things?

Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him again. Yes, I hated him. But why did I need to say anything?

"Where are we going?" I asked, changing the subject.

He didn't answer.

Soon, I noticed we were entering a familiar gate.

Wait… I had been here before.

The same place where I had told him how hard it was to let go of me.

I was right. It was a subdivision, but the houses were still under construction. Most of the area was still empty.

We stopped under a large tree.

I didn't move. I just looked outside, my eyes darting in every direction—anywhere but at him.

Minutes passed in silence.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him staring at me.

I stole a quick glance. He was watching me.

Staring!

It was awkward. Too awkward to look back!

"So, you're not going to speak?" he asked.

"Why me?" I replied, my question coming out oddly.

But I sounded angry too. It was strong enough to ruin the mood. If you're mad, you're just mad.

"Because you're mad."

He looked mad too!

"Just because I'm mad, I should be the one to speak first?! And to think you're the reason I'm mad!" I snapped.

"Look, if this is about what I said earlier—"

"Good, so you know!" I cut him off. "...And you expect me to speak after that?!"

"And what exactly am I supposed to say?!" he asked, clearly annoyed.

He was matching my tone now, like he intended to fuel my anger even more.

"Why don't you figure that out?!"

Let's see how smart you really are!

"I'm not a fortune teller! How am I supposed to know what you want to hear?!"

Ampvta!

I slapped my own forehead. Does he seriously not get it? Just a simple "sorry" and a little appreciation would have been enough!

"A-PO-LO-GIZE!" I enunciated, meeting his glare with my own.

"Why should I?!"

"Hello?! What about the things you said to me?! I was just trying to help, and yet I'm the bad guy?!"

"I know I hurt your feelings, but you need to understand that what you did was wrong! What if Dylan had actually done what you suggested?!"

"But he didn't, did he?!"

"That doesn't change the fact that it was wrong!"

"Wrong is wrong, I get it! But at the very least, you could appreciate what I did!"

He ran his fingers through his hair, obviously trying to keep his temper in check.

"I do appreciate it! I appreciate the fact that you put yourself on the brink of DEATH! I appreciate that you made me WORRY so much!"

When you're this frustrated, all you want to do is slap your opponent just to end the argument.

Aaaarrrggghhhh…

"That's it! That's all you have to say?! I put my life on the line, and I don't even get a little credit for it?! Pvta! I should've made you sign that damn paper—"

I stopped mid-sentence when I saw him smirking at me.

What the hell?!

I was fuming, and he was smiling?! Unbelievable!

"What?!" I demanded.

"Three," he said, holding up three fingers.

Three?!

"...Three profanity words," he clarified.

My eyes widened in realization. Damn! I totally forgot about that rule! But before this shameless man could make a move, I blocked him with my arms.

"NO!" I screamed.

"No?"

My name is No, my number is No...

What the hell?! Why was I suddenly singing in my head?! This was his fault—this crazy King of Chaos!

"...What do you mean?! Have you forgotten our agreement?" he asked smugly.

"I haven't forgotten! But since I'm mad, there's no KISS!"

"HEY! That doesn't count!" he protested.

"It does count! Besides, I don't want to! You smell like cigarettes!"

At my words, he immediately sniffed himself, probably thinking I was bluffing. But no—he did smell like cigarettes.

"And so what if I do?" he asked, arrogance dripping from his voice.

"I don't like the smell!"

"Tss… As if you've never smoked before."

I glared at him. "Excuse me! I tried it once, that's all! And I'm telling you now—I won't kiss you when you reek of smoke. Not for a whole day!"

"What?! You can't be serious about that!" he asked in disbelief.

Oh, you think I'm joking?

"I'm dead serious," I teased.

"Jay… If this is still about our argument—fine! You win! ...Thank you! Thank you for risking your life to help me and my brothers."

Hah!

"Nice... You sure changed your tune the moment kissing got involved, huh?"

I looked at him knowingly. Did he really think I'd be swayed by his handsome face?

"...But my answer is still no. I hate you! For so many reasons!"

A strong gust of wind blew between us. He let out a frustrated groan.

"Again?! What now?!"

I smirked. "I don't know. Figure it out."

Suddenly, he slapped his own forehead. I wanted to laugh out loud at how he looked, but I had to stay in my angry mode.

Besides, there was something I wanted to know.

"I feel like..." I started, making him fall silent and look at me. "...I don't really know you that well yet."

"What do you mean?" he asked calmly.

He seemed to sense that I was being serious.

"Because of what happened between you and your dad..." I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence.

He suddenly looked away, as if he didn't want to talk about it.

I looked away too. Other people feel for him. At the very least, I should know the names of his parents. I keep feeling—

"My dad killed my mom."