Page 87 of The Fallacy of True Love
Nikki pounced on my slip-up. “Isn’t it nice that Tita Cammy knows where Tito Ally is?” she asked her daughter in an annoying sing-song voice.
“You should visit him!” Jo announced.
“Good idea, anak. Then she should call us again so you can say hi to Tito Ally, yes?”
“Yes!” Jo bounced up and down, and Milo barked like he’d caught her excitement too.
Nikki was a goner. I unleashed the full force of my withheld glares on her, and she laughed. Laughed. “He’s busy,” I settled on saying because what I really wanted to say wasn’t suitable for Jo’s ears.
“Bet he’s not too busy for you,” Nikki said slyly. “Besides, don’t you need to give him back the money?”
“He already refused it.” Although I did need to give him a piece of my mind for messing with my bag. Also to tell him to stop leaving me these notes—the latest of which I still had tucked tight in my hand.
“You don’t want to owe him anything, do you?”
Damn Nikki for knowing exactly what buttons to push. “I can’t wait to see you on Saturday,” I told her between gritted teeth.
“Me too, Cam. Don’t forget to call us later, k? Jo and I will be waiting.”
“See you, Tita Cammy!”
Nikki was lucky I was so far away, or I would have stormed over to her place and told her what I really thought when Jo wasn’t around to hear.
Though she did have a point.
Last night, Alonzo told me he worked at some third-wave coffee shop near the school, which should have been enough reason to avoid it like the plague. But that meant letting them win, and I couldn’t accept that.
I looked up the directions, swapped my pants for shorts, and stuffed my money and key in my pocket.
Forget Nikki’s maneuvering. This was a point of pride now.
And maybe a part of me—just a tiny one—wanted to see Alonzo in his element too.
Chapter Thirty-One
Alonzo
An hour to the end of my shift, the flow of customers finally tapered down. Everyone was settled with their drinks, pastries, and textbooks laid across their tables, and I fixed another double espresso to power myself through closing time and a night of readings.
I wondered if Maya liked her new rental and if it lived up to its listing. Pulling out my phone, I took one look at my notifications and opened Maya’s text.
Maya
u messed w my bag?!!!
Guess she finally saw the cash—and the note that went with it. The timestamp said she’d sent the message more than an hour ago, so I hurried to reply.
“Ahem.”
My head snapped up, eyes widening at the sight of Maya herself tapping on the counter. “Well, well, well,” I murmured, unable to keep from grinning.
“I thought Manila’s all about good service?” she drawled. “You’re slacking.”
“My bad. I was busy replying to this girl I know,” I said as I held up my phone. “Didn’t expect she’d come to see me.”
The corners of her mouth pinched together. Digging into her pocket, she drew out the familiar folded-up cash and plopped it onto the counter. “This is yours.”
I made no move to take it. “Did you come all this way just to give me your money?”
