Prologue
What Label Is
Label \'lā-bel\
noun
:a word or phrase that describes or identifies something or someone
Label in a sentence: Jerrick is an ass of a guy who spoils relationship because of his irrational opposition of labeling what we were and what we had! (Svck it up, asshole!)
I crumpled the paper and threw it in the trash can. Sinipulan ako ni Kurt pagkapasok niya sa shotgun ng sasakyan.
"Another one? Ang yaman naman ng ex-girlfriend mo sa ink! Halos araw araw ay may printed love letter ka."
"Hindi ko 'yon ex," matabang kong sagot. "Dadaan ba sa Mostaccio?"
"No coffee for me all week! I pulled an all-nighter last night. Kulang na lang ay mag-palpitate ako habang tulog sa dami ng kapeng tinimpla ni Zara!"
"Dude! Studying? New hobby of yours? Hanggang kailan mo kaya kaaaliwan?" I mocked.
Lumiko kami papasok ng campus. Maraming estudyante ang naglalakad papasok kaya kinailangan kong bagalan ang pagmamaneho.
Relationships just wasn't my thing. Forget the story where I transformed into a monster like I am today because of some heartbreak I went through. No, it wasn't like that.
You wanna know why? Simple. There are two kinds of people who plays the game. Person B, the brokenhearted, and Person H, the heartbreaker. If you're not going to be the one that's gonna break hearts, then it is yours that's going to shatter thousand times beyond repair.
Come to think of it, I choose to be in between. But nah, I'm more on the Person H side.
But 'ya know, people, I honestly know that at some point in my life will arrive the day of the epiphany. And I did not know that it was terribly soon after I realized how awesome being single was.
And that was actually the same day that I hated my favorite coffee at my favorite café—Mostaccio.
"One cappuccino, babe," I ordered using my usual saccharine tone without looking at the barista.
"Ano? One gagoccino?"
I almost ripped a 500 peso bill upon hearing the snarky remark of the gorgeous barista in front of me. I whipped my head up to look at her and realized that she's not the hooky-type barista that I could easily bag home.
"Ano ulit 'yon, Miss?" I asked. I had to be sure, though. I just got home from a wild and awesome party and I think I'm still under the influence of a killer-madafucca-alcohol that my best friend forced down my throat last night.
"Wala po, sir. One cappuccino coming right up," she smiled sweetly. Damn those eyes! If my head wasn't killing me this much, I knew I already got her number saved in my phone by this time.
Since I didn't think I could last another minute standing in the line I took a seat and rested my head on the table. I gotta kill Marco for giving me the drink!
I told him I have two exams today and I have to at least be fifty percent sober to pass those. But if people were to analyze the percentage right now, they'd say I'm a little over seventy-five percent inebriated and heck that's dangerous enough for me and my grades!
Crap! Ano ba 'to?
Why do I feel extremely hot on the head?
I heard the noises of laughter and chorus of gasps when I jerked awake at the contact of the hot coffee on my neck. I looked up, very much annoyed, ready to face the douch-
Shit, no. This was the gorgeous lady I'm ready to put in a pedestal only if she wasn't this cruel.
"I'm sorry, sir. Accident," she apologized in the most creative way I've ever seen in my life. Her voice is soft and full of guilt, but what I've seen on her face is entirely different. Gusto pa niyang tumawa, I could tell!
"It's okay," I answered, rather than drag her outside and plump her lips using mine. Because right now that's what I really want to do.
"I'm gonna go get another one, sir."
"Please. I'll be outside," I informed... Viv.
I spent the next few minutes thinking what Viv is short for. My first thought was Vivien. That's pretty obvious. And the second... nah, I got nothing.
The force was strong because when I felt the need to stand up and welcome something, came the gorgeous Viv in the scene. I smiled only to be engulfed by another fcuking hot cappuccino.
Coffee. On. My. Fcuking. Favorite. Shirt.
"That's it, woman. What is your problem?" I pretty sure that's what I asked... right?
I was perfectly sane given that I am seventy-five percent wasted. Okay maybe not perfectly, but I was alright. I even approached Viv in the most calm tone I could muster. But you know what all I ever received?
A slap.
