This Wasn't in the Floor Plan

The car door thudded shut, sealing me in with the faint smell of old fries and my brother's indie music. The expensive perfume and lobby flowers felt worlds away. He grunted a greeting, eyes fixed on his phone, before pulling away from the curb.

I leaned back, closing my eyes. Riku's face swam into view – that amused look as I recited my absurd Rule Number Three. Why? The question screamed in my head. Why did I say no? My fists clenched. We could be texting right now. That low chuckle, the way his eyes crinkled... God, the intensity of wanting him was embarrassing after the cool facade I'd maintained.

Make him work for it, the strategic part of my brain insisted. Don't be easy.

But cold panic flooded in. What if he doesn't? What if he thought I was weird, or worse, genuinely uninterested? He already pegged me as paranoid. And that "He's lucky" comment... Shoot. He didn't know this was just my brother doing a late-night pickup. What if he thinks I'm taken and playing games? He'll walk away. Find someone less complicated.

My stomach twisted. I pressed my forehead to the cool window, watching Quezon City blur past in a haze of escalating anxiety and silent self-recrimination.

The second I mumbled thanks and escaped the car, my phone was out. Heels kicked off inside my apartment, bag dropped. I collapsed onto the sofa, the silence amplifying the frantic buzz in my head. I needed Trice.

Me 💬 (1:48 AM): TRICE EMERGENCY

Me 💬 (1:48 AM): PARTY UPDATE - HE WAS THERE!!! 😭

Trice 💬 (1:49 AM): ??? WHO??? Me 💬 (1:50 AM): RIKU!!!! COFFEE SHOP SKETCH GUY!!!! AT THE GALA!!!

Trice 💬 (1:50 AM): WHAT OMG DETAILS!!! STILL HOT???

Me 💬 (1:52 AM): YES SUSPICIOUSLY SO 😩 BUT HE ASKED FOR MY NUMBER... Trice 💬 (1:53 AM): ANDDDDD?!?!?! 🥳

Me 💬 (1:53 AM): ...and I said no 🤦‍♀️

Trice 💬 (1:54 AM): ...Camille anunaaaaaa?!?!?!! 😠 WHY?!

Me 💬 (1:55 AM): IDK I PANICKED!!! 😭 Tried to be cool/mysterious! Make him work for it!

Trice 💬 (1:55 AM): Okay hard to get vs kinda dumb lol JOKE (mostly) 😂

Me 💬 (1:56 AM): I KNOWWW 😩 But now spiraling! What if he thinks I'm not interested? Or thinks my BROTHER was a date?!

Trice 💬 (1:57 AM): Okay deep breaths crazy girl 😂 Maybe a lil idiotic BUT maybe genius?? 🤔 Men like a challenge right? (Or so romcoms say)

Me 💬 (1:58 AM): BUT WHAT IF HE GIVES UP EASILY?? He seemed maybe a little put off?? 😥

Trice 💬 (1:59 AM): Hmmm 🤔 Worst case: he gives up. BUT! You're both architects! Same world, same events! You'll see him again! Unless he thinks you're a psycho now 😂😂😂

Me 💬 (2:00 AM): TRICE NOT HELPING 😭😭😭

Trice 💬 (2:01 AM): Okay sorry! 😅 Look, done is done. We wait. ORRR Plan B: Operation Accidentally-On-Purpose Encounter. Recon needed! 🕵️‍♀️

I tossed the phone aside with a groan. Trice somehow validated my idiocy while spinning it into strategy and planting fresh doubt. Waiting felt like torture. Engineering a meeting felt desperate. Ugh. I buried my face in a pillow, exhausted by wanting him this badly and being this unsure.

Saturday morning sunlight streamed in, mocking the leaden feeling in my chest. Sleep deprivation, adrenaline hangover, and pure regret made my head pound. Why did I say no? The question looped relentlessly as I shuffled to the kitchen in my most tragic T-shirt. Every justification felt flimsy in the harsh light of day.

Riku. Architect Riku, with his perceptive eyes and charming smirk. He'd asked. And I'd shut him down with a made-up rule after practically accusing him of being a killer. I clutched my instant coffee. What must he think? That I was playing games? That I really had a boyfriend picking me up? The memory of his "He's lucky" made me cringe.

My mind grasped for solutions. The coffee shop, Cozy Mug? Could I just happen to be there this afternoon? Casually? Wait. It's Saturday. I stopped pacing. I don't work Saturdays; I wouldn't normally be near there. Going today would be transparently desperate. Ugh. Listen to yourself, Camille. Plotting routes based on one encounter. When did you become this girl?

Defeated, I abandoned the plan. So, what now? Just wait? Hope fate, or the small world of Manila architecture, threw us together again despite my sabotage? Galling. Waiting wasn't my strong suit when my brain was replaying every potential misstep.

No. If a real-world encounter felt too stalker-ish, maybe the digital world offered options. Laptop retrieved, I sank onto the sofa. Time for some gentle, professionally-adjacent stalking.

Riku Villanueva. Architects' Association Gala. I pulled up Instagram, finding the official Association page's post: "Highlights from last night's Midnight Masquerade Gala! ✨" My heart hammered as I tapped through the photos. Scanning... scanning... There! Laughing near the bar, talking to older architects. Effortlessly magnetic even in a blurry shot. Another photo: leaning against a pillar, observing the crowd. I devoured every pixel, but no tags, just generic hashtags. Searching his name yielded nothing conclusive. Seeing him frozen in photos somehow made the distance feel larger. Frustrating.

Fine. Distraction it is.

The rest of Saturday and most of Sunday blurred into the chaotic rhythm of Valorant matches and the hypnotic blocks of Tetr.io. Screen glow, snacks, frustrated texts with Trice – anything to shut my brain off. But thoughts of Riku intruded in the lulls – him on the balcony, the sting of regret. The waiting stretched on, agonizing.

By Sunday evening, weary resignation settled in. I'd stalked, distracted, lamented. Nothing changed. Tomorrow was Monday. Work. Archway Design Studio, Sir Jesse's demands, deadlines. Time to shove Riku Villanueva into a box and try to focus.

Pushing him out of my head felt impossible. But as Sunday night bled into Monday morning, I knew I had to try. Back to reality. Back to routine. Back to being Architect Camille Marquez, who definitely didn't obsess over mysterious men. Right.