Chapter Text
Jhoanna’s POV
Hindi ako lasing.
Medyo tipsy, sure. Pero malinaw pa rin isip ko — clear enough to know what I wanted tonight: no names, no expectations, no strings. Just one last reckless memory before white coats, sleepless nights, and hospital charts took over my life.
Tomorrow, I become Dr. Jhoanna Robles, MD — the board topnotcher that everyone won’t shut up about.
But tonight? It’s just me, tequila, and some reckless decisions.
Nakasandal ako sa bar, hilo pa sa kakasayaw, when I saw her.
Shit. Yung tipo ng babae na mukhang hindi mo dapat lapitan… pero gusto mong masaktan ng konti.
Dark button-down. Whiskey in one hand. Wristwatch clean and sleek. Eyes sharp enough to diagnose my weakness from across the room.
Alam kong dapat umiwas. Pero syempre, hindi ako umatras.
She looked like someone who reads journal articles for fun and has three unread love confessions in her inbox.
I signaled the bartender. “One double whiskey,” I said, eyes still on her. “For the girl with the death stare.”
The bartender raised an eyebrow but nodded.
She came over a few minutes later.
Damn. Mas malapit, mas maganda. Mas delikado.
“You sent me whiskey?” she asked, her voice low and… medical. May gravitas. Like she could order an emergency thoracotomy and I’d listen without question.
I smiled. “Felt like you weren’t the type for cocktails.”
“Judgmental ka pala.”
“Observant lang.”
She took a sip. “You make a habit of profiling strangers based on their drink energy?”
I shrugged. “Only when I’m right.”
She sipped the drink without breaking eye contact. “‘Di ba medyo presumptuous ‘yan?”
I leaned in, smirking. “Siguro. Pero I figured kung mali ako, you’d throw the glass in my face.”
“I’m not violent,” she said coolly. “Just selective.”
God, I love this kind of woman.
“Fair,” I said. “So, am I selected tonight?”
She tilted her head. “Still deciding.”
“Oof,” I chuckled. “Okay, sige. Challenge accepted.”
She crossed her arms, still holding the glass. “You talk like someone who doesn’t hear ‘no’ a lot.”
“I hear it,” I said, slowly swirling my own drink. “I just tend to convince people to change their minds.”
“Confident.”
“Or delusional.”
She smirked. “What’s your poison?”
“Tonight?” I raised my glass. “Reckless decisions.”
“Relatable.”
We clinked glasses.
A few songs later, we were still talking. Still bantering. Still circling each other like two people who already knew exactly where this night was going.
She told me nothing about herself. No name, no job, no history.
And I didn’t ask.
Instead, I let the tension fill the silence between our questions.
“So,” I said casually, “what’s a woman like you doing alone in a bar like this?”
“I could ask you the same.”
“I’m celebrating.”
“Success?”
“Freedom. One last wild night before I lock myself into duty hours and heartbreaks I can’t afford.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Doctor?”
“Starting residency next week.”
Nadulas pa. Kasi naman miss poganda, ang titig mo.
She studied me for a beat. “You don’t look like someone ready to give up sleep.”
I laughed. “That’s why I’m not sleeping tonight.”
Her lips quirked. “You always this bold?”
I shrugged. “Only when I really want something.”
“And what do you want right now?”
Putangina. Nagtanong ka pa!
My body literally reacted — legs crossed, shoulders tense, brain foggy.
Danger. Delicious danger.
“A night I’ll regret in the morning.”
___
We hopped into the first available cab.
She told the driver an address somewhere in Makati — condo tower, upscale-sounding. I tried not to react. I already knew she was put-together. Now she was just confirming it.
We sat side by side, close but not touching yet.
The city lights painted flickers across her face — gold, red, violet from a neon sign. She looked even more dangerous in motion. Like she could tell I wasn’t breathing right.
I crossed my legs... slowly and deliberately.
Her eyes darted down.
Gotcha.
“Tahimik mo bigla,” I said, glancing sideways.
“Saving my energy,” she replied, lips curving just slightly. “I plan to use it later.”
Putangina.
I looked away, pretending to adjust the strap of my dress.
My skin was already hot, my mind halfway to undressing her in real time.
She leaned in closer, voice low. “You always this… eager?”
I met her gaze. “Only when the view’s worth it.”
She let out a quiet laugh — barely a sound, but enough to make my stomach twist.
Her thigh brushed mine.
I didn’t move.
Neither did she.
“You scared?” she asked.
“Excited,” I answered. “Ikaw?”
She turned to me, her voice just above a whisper.
“I don’t do soft, Doc.”
“Good,” I breathed. “I don’t do careful.”
Neither of us blinked.
And then, just as I was about to kiss her right there in the back of the damn cab, the car slowed to a stop.
“Andito na po tayo.”
She smiled.
But it wasn’t sweet.
_______
Her condo was clean. Minimalist, neutral tones, organized in a way that screamed: I’m in control of everything I do.
I wanted to ruin that.
The second the door clicked behind us, I backed her up against the wall. She pulled me in like she’d been waiting for this exact kind of mess. Our mouths collided — urgent, messy, a clash of breath and heat.
No finesse. No warm-up.
Just teeth, tongue, moans that came out too loud, too fast.
Her hands gripped my hips like she’d studied them, memorized every inch. Mine tangled in her shirt, tugging it loose with a hiss against her lips.
“Gigil ka?” she murmured between kisses.
“Mas gigil ka,” I gasped, tugging her down the hallway.
We didn’t even make it to the bed at first.
She lifted me onto the counter. Kissed down my neck. Her hands were everywhere — skilled, precise, like she was studying anatomy and making it beg.
“Shit—‘wag ka titigil,” I whispered.
“Not planning to,” she growled against my collarbone.
Her grip was confident. Her pace — brutal and teasing. She kissed like she was trying to brand me, like she wanted to win whatever war we started in that bar.
And I let her.
Actually, I begged her to.
Wall, kitchen, floor, couch — kahit saan.
At one point, I found myself beneath her, barely remembering how we got there — just skin on skin, sweat on sweat, my body moving without permission.
“Masarap ka pala sumunod,” she whispered, breath hot against my neck.
“Masarap ka rin utusan,” I whispered back.
Laughter, moans — pillow-biting kind of chaos.
We were skin, sweat, and secrets.
It wasn’t love — pero putangina, it was intense.
_________
Somehow, we ended up tangled in her sheets later. Bare skin. Messy hair. Breathing like we just ran marathons in each other.
I turned to her — just a little.
Her face looked different in the dark, softer. Like there was a story behind every curve of her lips.
I didn’t want to ask.
Didn’t want to know.
Because if I asked, it would mean I cared.
And this? This was just release.
So I stood up quietly, pulling my clothes from the floor.
I didn’t leave a note. Didn’t ask for her name.
Hindi ko kailangan ng complication.
Just a story I’ll keep to myself.
A secret no one else needs to know.
Besides, what are the odds I’ll ever see her again?