E P I L O G U E

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5  YEARS  LATER





The drive up Mount Pinatubo isn't so bad, especially on motorcycle.

The sweltering heat and thick, humid air made the fabric of the muscle tank I was wearing cling onto my skin, my pixie hair allowing whatever breeze I could get as I drove up the mountain to cool the back of my neck before something- or rather someone at the side of the dirt road caught my eye.

First of all, this person was Caucasian which was a rare sight in itself here in the Philippines where most of the population was -well you know- Filipino.

But this certain white boy seemed to be extra privileged, extra pompous, and just extra everything.

From his broken Gucci sunglasses on his face that was missing one lens, down to his designer loafers as he attempted to check his iPhone with a look of utter frustration, trying to push the lone goat besides him away as it persisted to bite at his salmon colored shorts at the side of the road.

"Hey! No, no, this is Calvin Klein back the fuck off." The strange man hadn't seen me park a few feet away from him at the curb of the road, my elbow resting on my motorcycle, watching him try and wrench his knee length shorts away from the giddy goat that had its teeth clenched right on the fabric, trying to tear it off.

"I don't have time for you you son of a bitch- god damn it!" The man cursed when the goat successfully tore the back of his shorts, trotting a few feet away with its head back to gobble it up as the guy lowered his phone and ran after the animal, grabbing onto whatever was left of the slobbery fabric.

"These are my favorite fucking shorts! I don't think a goat's ever been sued but you my friend will be the first let me tell you." He huffed out in irritation, his broken sunglasses falling off his angered face, revealing ember green eyes as I raised my brows in amusement, killing off the engine of my motorcycle and kicking the stand out so it wouldn't tip as I got off it.

The man and goat were still stuck in some type of intense tug aware, the goat screeching through its teeth while the guy yelled a "yeah, well fuck you too" in annoyance before he finally spotted me approaching him, the fabric slipping from his fingers as he gazed at me with wide eyes.

"Thank god, another person- please tell me you speak English." He all but begged in an almost pleading tone, somewhat slipping across the gravel on the road as he ran to me with a hopeful expression, dirt smudges over his attractive face.

I smirked, looking around feigning confusion.

"Sino? Ako?" I asked, pointing at myself and saying 'who, me?' in Tagalog as I watched a frown overtake the man's face before he groaned, bringing his hands to his hair and running his fingers through his tousled brown, pushed up locks.

"Give me a break...." He groaned under his breath, slowly inhaling and exhaling before he dropped his hands and sent me a determined, serious look.

"Me...." He slowly began with wide eyes, as if he was talking to an extremely slow pre-k toddler as he gestured to himself, hands on his chest.

"Need ride...." He continued, rapidly pointing at my motorcycle behind me with enthusiasm before he brought his two hands out like he was riding an imaginary one, flicking his wrists like he was holding the handles.

"You know, vroom-vroom." He nodded, gauging my reaction as I furrowed my brows and squinted my eyes at him, pretending to struggle to understand him.

"Vroom-vroom?" I repeated, tilting my head to the side, crossing my arms over my chest making his gaze fall to the tattoos there briefly before his eyes went back to me and he nodded.

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