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I was wearing a pair of stilettos that night, a pair that belongs in the 4-inch-high family and definitely a pair that rendered most people midgets when they stood next to me--most people, including Matt. In my fantasy, my head was resting on his chest as we danced to the perfect music under the perfect night sky.

In reality, it happened a bit differently: He was holding my hand and my waist as we slowly danced to the famous '80s love song. Being the one with two left feet, I let him take the lead. The music, the thousand yellow lights, the open sky, and that intoxicating realization that I was in his arms again pushed aside all fragments of logic. I was about to rest my head on his shoulders when I realized that I was towering over him by an inch or two because of my shoes. I wanted to kick my shoes off just so I could live out that particular fantasy down to the last detail, but that pair cost me a few thousand bucks and I would definitely die if they get stolen on the grounds of the most Catholic university in the history of Philippine education.

But I was persistent. I only had one shot. So regardless of the height difference, I still rested my head on Matt's right shoulder and danced for a good four or five minutes.

In my fantasy, everything faded into the background—the people, the noise and non-stop chatter, the female singer's slightly off-key take on one of the most romantic songs of all time, even Matt's voice that kept asking me something I couldn't understand because my fantasy overpowered everything else. In my head, it was just Matt and I and that beautiful piece of music. When I pull away, Matt would mirror my own emotions, and a few silent seconds later, he'd say "I'm sorry."

In reality, it happened differently: When the music ended and I pulled away from him, the first thing I felt was that my neck was a bit stiff. Instead of Matt smiling and looking overwhelmed with emotion, he looked unshaken, impatient even.

"Hey, I thought you had fallen asleep or something," he said with a grin as we continued to sway to the opening notes of another '80s love song.

"Really?" I asked. "How come?"

"I was saying something earlier," he continued. "Hindi ka nagsasalita e."

"Sorry, I was listening to the song," I lied. "What did you say kanina?"

"I said you look so hot tonight."

"Oh," was all I heard myself say. I was waiting for him to add something that would make me feel beautiful in his eyes; something that would make me feel desirable in a wholesome way; something romantic. But then he said something that was undoubtedly "Trademark Matt."

"What are you doing tonight?" he asked.

"You mean aside from dancing?" I asked.

"I mean, after the event," Matt lifted my hand and motioned for me to do a turn.

"Oh."

"Well, would you like some wine?" he continued as I did a turn. "I have an unopened bottle of red wine at my place. Good year."

When I completed my turn and faced Matt once more, I finally opened my eyes and saw Matt for who he really was—a cheating bastard, someone I never wanted to deal with. But most importantly, I finally realized what Matt really thought of me. Just like that, all the hangups I had about him faded into the crisp October air. All the words I wanted to say, all the apologies I wanted to hear, and all the things I wished I didn't do just faded away. Instead of feeling butterflies in my stomach, I felt horrible and nauseated.

"Let me get my coat first," I said sweetly. "I'll be right back."

"Great," Matt said. "I'll wait for you by the punch bowl, okay?"

"Okay," I replied and in one quick moment, I squeezed his hand before I turned around and walked away.

I never looked back.

I walked past Lily, who, I just remembered, took my trench coat with her when we walked into the devil earlier; past the live band; past the white tables and chairs; past the wooden plank; past the stone benches that lined the university sidewalk; and past the west gate where a few students were smoking outside the university walls. I bought a cigarette from the lone street vendor near the gate, took a few drags, lifted my head to the sky, and blew the smoke to the heavens.

I felt free of a burden.

Yeah, just like that.

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