[Tagaytay, Assassin's Bar]
The evening ambiance at Assassin's Bar in Tagaytay was vibrant, filled with the beats of energetic music and the buzz of lively conversations. Allaine, fully immersed in the night's festivities, became the spirit of the dance floor. Her laughter, infectious and light, resonated around the room as she beckoned Altair with a playful shout.
"Alty! Get over here! I'm about to show off some serious dance moves!" she called out, moving to the rhythm with a carefree ease.
Altair, watching from a slight distance, couldn't help but smile at her exuberance. "She transforms into a whole different person," he commented to himself, a mix of affection and slight concern in his voice. While part of him wanted to join in the fun and let go of worries for the night, his protective instinct towards Allaine made him hesitate.
Spotting Tyrone behind the bar, Altair decided to approach him for some assistance. "Hey, Ty, my man, got anyone here who can help us out?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mild concern.
Tyrone, always attentive, leaned in with interest. "What's going on?"
Altair nodded towards the dance floor, where Allaine was clearly enjoying herself yet gradually showing signs of fatigue. "She's going to need a place to crash soon," he explained, his tone indicating it was only a matter of time before the night caught up with her.
"Got it, hang on. I'll arrange a room for her," Tyrone responded promptly, understanding the situation.
"Thanks, man," Altair said, grateful for Tyrone's quick handling. His attention then snapped back to Allaine, watching her with a mixture of admiration and concern, ensuring she stayed safe amid the revelry. Just then, his phone buzzed insistently in his pocket. Seeing Elise's name flash on the screen, he excused himself from the bar and answered the call, prepared for another important conversation.
"What's up?" Altair greeted, only to be met with the exact same question from Elise on the other end of the line. The synchronous greeting sent both of them into a fit of laughter. Altair, still chuckling, teased, "Goddammit, babe, you go first."
Elise's voice, thick with mock severity, responded, "I just hope that you haven’t made any unplanned confessions or gotten kissed accidentally."
Feigning annoyance, Altair retorted, "Really, babe? You called just to check on that?"
Elise's laughter rang clearly through the phone. "A true friend probes a bit before offering help," she joked, then shifted to a more serious tone, "But seriously, Cassy called me earlier."
"The reception’s patchy here. What did she say?" Altair asked, his tone turning concerned.
"I just advised her to take her time," Elise replied, her voice calm and reassuring.
Relieved yet still burdened with another concern, Altair admitted, "That's good to hear. Leaving that matter in your hands. I've got a problem here myself."
"What’s wrong, babe?" Elise's tone immediately turned serious, ready to tackle whatever was bothering him.
"Allaine's completely different when she's drunk," Altair explained, a hint of worry lacing his words.
"Yes, so better keep an eye on her," Elise advised, her voice firm yet supportive.
Altair sighed, his frustration mixed with a touch of amusement. "A heads-up a few days ago would have been nice."
"I'm sorry, I thought I told you already?" Elise apologized, her tone sheepish before she burst into laughter, lightening the mood between them once again.
After hanging up the phone with Elise, Altair was left feeling a blend of surprise and amusement. Tucking his phone away, he noticed Allaine, slightly inebriated and giggling, dancing closely with someone he didn't recognize. With a protective instinct kicking in, Altair approached them, reaching out to tap Allaine on the shoulder.
The stranger, taken aback by the interruption, reacted defensively. "Who the f*** are you? Can't you see we're having a good time?"
Remaining unflustered, Altair maintained a calm demeanor. "The lady you are dancing with happens to be my wife," he declared, adopting a pretext to defuse the situation.
Allaine, still in high spirits and slightly tipsy, played along seamlessly, leaning into Altair with a playful giggle. "Yeah, I'm his wife, back off," she slurred slightly, enhancing their ruse.
The stranger, now visibly embarrassed and realizing his overstep, quickly apologized and retreated into the crowd. Altair then steered Allaine towards the bar, placing a glass of water in her hand. "Drink this," he suggested gently, a tone of caring underpinning his words.
Allaine, embracing the role-play, accepted the glass with a graceful tilt of her head. "Thanks, hubby," she joked, her voice light and teasing.
Altair, hand on his face to mask a smile, couldn't help but respond with a mix of resignation and amusement. "No worries."
As Altair and Allaine made their way out of the bustling bar area, Tyrone approached with a solution to the evening's end. Handing Altair a keycard, he mentioned, "30th floor," a hint of discretion in his voice
.
"Thank you," Altair responded gratefully, accepting the keycard. With the card in hand and Allaine leaning on him slightly, they navigated through the lively crowd towards the elevators.
Allaine's voice, tinged with the lightness of inebriation, broke the silence as they walked. "I had so much fun with you, Alty," she slurred, her words floating with genuine happiness.
Matching her light-hearted tone, Altair replied, "I had fun too." His response was gentle, encouraging her to continue sharing her thoughts.
"You're such a gentleman, Alty. You deserve true love," Allaine continued, her voice earnest despite the alcohol.
Altair, amused and touched by her declaration, responded thoughtfully, "Aren't we all deserving of that?"
"Some people don't deserve it, but you do," Allaine asserted firmly, her drunken clarity mixing with a deep sincerity.
As they reached the dimly lit corridor of the 30th floor, Allaine's inhibitions lowered further by her inebriated state, she suddenly pushed Altair against the wall. The action was swift and unexpected, leaving Altair momentarily stunned.
As he regained his composure, he realized Allaine's intentions were unmistakable—she was leaning in close, her hand pressed against the wall beside him, effectively pinning him in place. Her face was inches from his, her eyes slightly glazed but focused, a clear indication of her intent to kiss him. Caught in the tight space, Altair found himself at a crossroads, responding to the unexpected advance.
Altair responded decisively. His voice was firm as he gently pushed back, saying, "No, you don't," while placing his palm against her face to halt her advance.
Allaine's energy, fueled by her inebriated state, quickly waned following the gentle rejection. She slumped, her consciousness fading as she drifted into unconsciousness in Altair's arms. Holding her carefully, Altair let out a weary sigh, now fully supporting her weight as he guided her towards the room.
Looking down at Allaine's sleeping form, Altair's face wore a mixture of bemusement and slight exasperation. He couldn't help but reflect on the night's events with a wry observation. "What's with you girls stealing kisses and then running away?" he mused quietly to himself. The evening had unfolded with unexpected confessions and impulsive actions, mirroring past experiences yet adding a new layer of complexity to his relationships.