“Hey, look. Isn't he hot?” I glanced in the direction she's talking about; my brows automatically frowned when I saw a familiar face.

“You aren't talking about that guy in the navy green shirt, aren't you?”

“I'm talking about him. Isn't he hot? You spot him immediately.” I look at her and she's grinning from ear to ear.

“He is.” I simply said.

She moves closer to me, making her shoulder touch mine. “Want his number?” 

I hurriedly move away and say, “No, thanks. I don't want anything with that homophobic person.”

Her wide grin vanishes. Her brows frown a little. “Homophobic? That guy?” She pointed at him using her eyes.

“Yes, that guy.” I don't even want to look at him again.

“How come? I mean, how did you know?”

I held my metal straw and then started to move it up and down, making the ice cubes inside my reusable cup crash into one another. “He’s an acquaintance back in high school.” 

“Oh, so you know him.”

“Yes. And I can’t stand him. I feel so suffocated whenever we hang around.”

“Make sense since you said he's homophobic. But why did he become one?” 

I shrug my shoulders and say, “I don't know and I don't care. Let's stop talking about him. I’m not interested.”

“Fine, if you say so. But why do homophobic people exist?” she asked more likely to herself while shaking her head.

“Because people hate what they don’t understand.” I grab my cup and stand up from my seat. “Let’s go, let’s get going.”

“Okay, sure.” She grabs the cup in front of her and that mini takeout bag. We walk away from our seats outside the café shop.

While we are on our way to the exit of the mall we’re in, a familiar voice suddenly calls me out, making me stop on my route and look back. 

“It’s really you, Echo,” he said while smiling. He is standing a few steps away from me. 

Oh, great! 

I stared at him before my Amiga nudged at me. Making me realize that I haven’t answered back. But do I really need to respond to someone I don’t even want to have a conversation with?

In the end, I said, “Hey.” 

“What’s up, man?” he asks, crossing that small space between us—which I wish he hadn’t. Like, why bother? We can talk even if there's a little space between us. I was busy looking at his feet when I looked up; he’s already standing so close to me. 

I really want to push him back. 

“Good. You?” 

“I’m doing great, aside from the fact that my father died a few years ago.” His smile narrows a bit while saying the last sentence. I heard about it from our other acquaintance. But I never went to the wake.

“I heard about it. I’m sorry for your loss and for not being able to meet you back then.” I feel sorry for him then, but I don’t really have the courage to go. Those days were some of my darkest days. 

“It’s fine, you might have your own circumstances. By the way, have you changed your number? I can’t reach you.”

“Oh, I lost my old phone.” It was robbed, to be more specific. 

“Then,” my eyes follow his movements. He grabbed something from his back pocket. “Can you give me your new contact details? I want to stay in touch with you,” he said while holding out his phone between us.

But I don’t want to stay in touch with you. 

I was battling with myself about whether I should give it or not. I really don’t want to reconnect with him. Who in the right mind will want to be in contact with someone who insults him? Definitely not me. Just this talk alone makes me feel sick already.

I stared at the phone a bit more until an idea came up. I quickly grabbed it and put in the contact details he’s asking for. I returned it smiling.

“There.” He quickly taps something after getting it back. We both look at my Amiga when something rings inside her bag. This douchebag is quite the meticulous type.

“My phone is inside her bag. I don’t want to lose another one.” I simply reasoned out. I don’t want him to fret any further about why my supposed phone number rings from there.

“Oh,” he seems to understand what I’m saying. He taps his phone screen, and the ringing ends. “I won’t take anymore of your time. I’ll see you soon.” He smiled and tapped my side arm. He shows his back to us and walks away.

I heave a sigh of relief when he’s gone. I think I wasn’t breathing properly. 

“Echo,” I say, looking at my Amiga, who’s been silent since earlier. 

“Yes?”

“Why did you give my phone number to him?” she asked, looking straight into my eyes. 

“I don’t want to stay in touch with him.”

“Yes, I get that. But you can just straight up say that to him.” 

I turned around and started to walk again towards the exit. She walks with me. “And if he asks me ‘why’, what would I say? I can’t just answer back: Because you are homophobic and I’m a closet.” I said the last sentence mockingly. 

“Still…”

“You said he’s hot, right? You even asked me if I wanted his number. Now that you have it, you’re not pleased.” 

“Because I was a bit insulted that he didn’t even take a glance at me! I was standing there, right beside the two of you, and he completely ignored me!”

I can’t suppress my laughter after hearing her. “What’s so funny?” she asked. Annoyance can be heard in her tone. I honestly thought of a more serious reason why she’s not pleased. For example, she hates lying but it turns out not the reason.

“Isn’t it great, then?” I look at her before I continue. “You have all the means to hog his attention now.” 

“What do you mean?” she asked, confused.

I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “Believe me, within twenty-four hours, your phone will buzz nonstop.” I wink at her after saying those. Been there, done that. 

“O-kay…” she answered, still with a glint of confusion. “By the way, under what name should I save his number?” 

I look at the exit that’s right in front of us before answering, “Kratos.”