They're Playing Our Song

Bawat Daan

"Oh, this song," she announced suddenly, smiling as Ebe Dancel's Bawat Daan came on. "I love this one."

It was a love song, but then again, what song these days wasn't a love song? But this was easy to sing along to, and it was the kind of song that pierced her straight in the chest the first time she heard it. Some songs just become special the first time you hear them, and Bawat Daan had been one of those songs for her.

"Dance with me, Nora." He stood up, holding his hand out to her.

"There's nobody—"

"Does it matter?" He asked, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. She let him pull her up, and he pulled her into his arms. They were barely following the rhythm because he didn't know if, especially when the song picked up around the chorus, but she didn't mind. He spun her around and held her close, one hand on the small of her back as the other held hers. And maybe it was the blanket of the night or the smaller number of customers around her, but it didn't matter to her much. The world was spinning, and there was nothing but Leo, and her, and this song.

When the song ended, she slowly lowered herself from her s'mores-induced high and pressed her head against Leo's chest. She was breathing too loud, and her heart was hammering in her chest. Nora felt her entire body tingle as heat prickled against her skin. How strange to have someone's attention on you. She wasn't used to it at all. But it was pretty damn nice having him look at her like that, even if it was just for one night.

"Is that your favorite?" he asked.

"Favorite what?" She asked, looking up at him. "Dessert? Cocktail?"

"Song," he clarified.

She narrowed her eyes at him and tried her hardest not to smile. It wasn't fair. This whole being flirty, adorable, and disarming thing he had going on was really working its magic on her.

"Why, is that going to be our song now?"

"I don't know. Is it?"

Be still her beating heart.

This whole evening was wrapped in some vaguely familiar, magical quality, like love scenes spliced together to make a movie of only the best moments, the happiest moments. Nora had the music in her head, and it was like Leo could hear it too.

"I'll play it for you sometime," she told him. "My favorite song."

They went back to their table and picked up their drinks and walked away from the cafe. Leo slipped his hand in hers, and they wove through the food park, past stalls that were only just now closing, past patrons still drinking the evening away.

"I like this date so far," he announced, and he was obviously choosing to ignore Nora's blatant lie. Because there wouldn't be a next time, would there? He was a world famous composer and lyricist and writer and everything from New York. Nora was in Manila, trying to launch a youth orchestra. They had lives and other things, and this? This was just a fluke. A trick of the moonlight. If anything talking about their childhoods taught her, it was that they were worlds apart.

He raised his horchata to her.

"Of all the gin joints in the world, I'm happy I ended up meeting you in this one."

"Me too," she let herself admit, clinking her paper cup against his.

Nora bit her lip from telling him she had nothing to compare this to. Sure, she'd had dinner with guys before, but it was never in the context of dating. She was always the friend, the friend of the girlfriend. People used to tell Nora that she didn't have a boyfriend because she was too choosy, too fat, too mataray for her own good. But she'd learned that if others failed to see how fucking fantastic she was, that was their problem.