The night after her laundry disaster, Erica lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Despite the exhaustion from scrubbing clothes and falling into muddy water, sleep refused to come. She tossed and turned, her frustration mounting with each passing minute. This place is suffocating. I can't believe I'm stuck here! She missed the buzz of the city - the lively streets, the flashing neon lights, the thrill of being surrounded by people who knew how to have fun. I need something, anything, to remind me of who I am.
An idea struck her, and she sat up abruptly. "That's it," she whispered to herself. "I'll go out. Just a little adventure. What's the worst that could happen?" The thought of sneaking out sent a rush of excitement through her. This is exactly what I need - a night out to feel alive again.
Sliding out of bed, she grabbed her jacket and shoes. She tiptoed down the creaky wooden hallway, cringing at every sound. Why does this house sound like it's auditioning for a horror movie? She paused, holding her breath as one particularly loud creak echoed through the silence. But when no one stirred, she exhaled and continued toward the door.
Once outside, the cool night air greeted her, refreshing and invigorating. The quiet countryside was a stark contrast to the lively nightlife she was used to, but Erica refused to let that dampen her spirits. This is my chance to find something fun. Even if it's not the same as the city, it'll do. She followed the dimly lit road leading toward the small collection of bars she'd noticed earlier in town.
When she reached the bar, her heart sank slightly. It wasn't the sleek, modern hotspot she'd imagined. Instead, it was a rustic, worn-down building with dim lighting and a scattering of locals sitting at mismatched tables. Laughter and chatter spilled out onto the street, mixing with the faint twang of country music playing from an old jukebox inside.
Well, this is... different. Erica squared her shoulders, determined to make the best of it. I'll show them how to have a good time. I just need to liven this place up. She was about to step inside when a firm hand clamped down on her shoulder.
"What do you think you're doing?" Sam's voice cut through the noise like a blade, low and authoritative.
Erica froze, her heart plummeting. Turning slowly, she found him standing behind her, his expression a mix of irritation and disbelief. Oh no, not him. Of all people, why did it have to be him?
"I was just..." She hesitated, trying to come up with an excuse, but Sam's penetrating gaze made it clear that lying would be pointless.
"You're not going in there," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "This isn't your scene."
She bristled, crossing her arms. "And how would you know? You don't know me."
"I know enough," he replied, his eyes narrowing. "You're a fish out of water here, Erica. This isn't one of your fancy city clubs. It's not a place for you."
Erica huffed, refusing to back down. "You don't get to decide that. I can have fun anywhere!"
Sam raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Fun? Or trouble? Because that's all you'll find in there."
She rolled her eyes, planting her hands on her hips. "Oh, please. I've been to bars before. How different can it be?"
His expression darkened as he leaned closer. "Different enough that last week, a guy tried to juggle chickens for tips. And people paid to watch."
Erica blinked, stifling a laugh. "You're joking."
"I wish I were." His tone was flat, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "You wouldn't last five minutes in there without someone trying to drag you into some ridiculous dare or, worse, a chicken-juggling contest."
She snorted, unable to help herself. "Okay, that's... hilarious. But I'm not some helpless city girl. I can handle it!"
Sam's jaw tightened as he crossed his arms. "No, you can't. You'd be the one screaming while the chickens flew around your head."
Despite herself, Erica felt a twinge of doubt. He might have a point. But I'm not giving up that easily. "Look," she said, her voice softening, "I just want to have a little fun. Is that so wrong?"
"It's not wrong," Sam replied, his tone serious, "but you need to learn your limits. This isn't Taguig. You can't just waltz in and expect things to go your way. People here don't play by your rules."
His words stung more than she cared to admit. She glanced toward the bar, the laughter and music beckoning her, and then back at Sam, whose steady gaze held a mix of frustration and concern. Why does he care, anyway?
"Fine," she muttered, pulling away from his grip. "I'll go back. But you don't have to act like my father!"
Sam's expression softened, but he didn't back down. "I'm not trying to be your father. I'm just looking out for you."
Erica hesitated, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. She expected him to gloat, but instead, he seemed... genuine. "Well, thanks, I guess," she said grudgingly, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets.
"Let's get you home," he said, nodding toward the road.
As they walked back in silence, Erica's mind raced. Why did I think this was a good idea? I don't belong here. I don't even know how to be here. She glanced sideways at Sam, who walked beside her with an air of quiet confidence. And why does he always show up at the worst moments?
When they passed by the chickens roosting near a small pen, Erica couldn't resist. "So what now, chickens? What are you laughing at?"
The chickens clucked and squawked in response, their noise oddly reminiscent of laughter. Erica threw up her hands in mock exasperation. "Yeah, yeah, I get it! I'm the joke of the night!"
Sam glanced at her, his lips twitching as if he were holding back a smile. "Well, at least you're self-aware."
She shot him a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"A little," he admitted, his tone light.
Erica rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile that crept onto her face. Despite her frustration, she found herself oddly comforted by his presence. Maybe I'll survive this after all.
*****
Once they reached Aunt Nena's house, Erica's resolve only hardened. Sure, her first attempt at sneaking out had been a failure, but she was determined to make her next venture a success. She refused to let Sam - or anyone else, for that matter - dictate how she spent her nights. I just need to plan better, she thought, pacing her room. There's no way I'm giving up that easily.
Later that evening, as the house settled into silence, Erica's stomach rumbled. Her failed night out had left her both frustrated and hungry. Quietly, she crept out of her room and made her way toward the kitchen, her footsteps as light as she could manage on the creaky wooden floors.
Her goal was simple: a quick snack before plotting her next adventure. But as she reached the kitchen, she stepped squarely onto something sharp and unforgiving.
"OW! What the - " she hissed, clutching her foot as a sharp pain shot through it. Looking down, she saw the culprit: a single, rogue Lego brick.
A Lego? Here? In the middle of nowhere? What is this - a rural trap? Erica stifled a groan, hopping on one foot to ease the pain. Her whispered curses were interrupted by a low grumble from the other room.
"What are you doing now?" Sam's voice carried through the thin walls, gruff and exasperated.
Erica froze, her heart pounding. This is a disaster. She glanced at the Lego again, her frustration mounting. Who even owns Lego in this house? Did Sam leave this here just to trip me up?
Realizing she was caught, she shuffled back to her room, her late-night snack forgotten. As she closed the door behind her, she sank onto the bed with a sigh. Maybe sneaking around isn't my forte. But that doesn't mean I'm done. I'll just have to be smarter next time.
*****
The next night, Erica decided to try again. She waited until the house was completely still, then tiptoed outside, her steps slow and deliberate. The cool night air nipped at her cheeks, but she was focused. This time, nothing's stopping me.
As she walked down the path, her confidence grew. See? I've got this. No creaky floors, no random Lego traps. It's smooth sailing from here.
Her victory was short-lived. Out of nowhere, a loud bark shattered the quiet night.
Erica whipped around just in time to see a large dog charging toward her from behind a fence. "Oh, no!" she squealed, her heart leaping into her throat.
The dog barked furiously, its tail wagging like it was in on the joke. Erica turned and ran, her arms flailing as she sprinted in circles around the yard.
"No, no, no! Stay away!" she cried, darting left and right in a desperate attempt to avoid the dog's snapping jaws. The animal didn't bite - it seemed more amused than anything - but it barked so loudly that the entire neighborhood probably knew what was happening.
Erica finally stumbled back toward the house, breathless and mortified. She slammed the door behind her, leaning against it as she tried to catch her breath. Her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of adrenaline and humiliation coursing through her veins.
Sam was standing in the living room, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "What now?" he asked, his tone dripping with amusement.
Erica glared at him, still panting. "Why is there a dog out there? Whose dog is that?"
"Probably belongs to the neighbor," Sam replied nonchalantly. "It's usually pretty quiet unless someone tries to sneak around in the middle of the night."
Erica groaned, sliding down the doorframe until she was sitting on the floor. "This place is impossible. First the Lego, now the dog. What's next - a chicken mob?"
Sam raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying her frustration. "I warned you about sneaking out. You're not exactly stealthy, Erica. Maybe you should stick to daytime adventures."
She shot him a withering look. "I'm just trying to have a little fun! Is that such a crime?"
"Fun?" Sam's lips twitched into a lopsided grin. "From where I'm standing, it looks like the Lego and the dog are having all the fun."
Erica huffed, throwing her hands in the air. "Okay, fine. Maybe I'm not cut out for this simple life after all."
Sam leaned against the wall, his grin softening into something almost... kind. "Welcome to the countryside, Miss City Girl. It's not about wild nights and flashy lights. It's about finding joy in the little things."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "Little things, huh? Like stepping on Lego and being chased by a dog?"
"Exactly," Sam said with a chuckle.
As Erica sat there, her frustration slowly giving way to reluctant amusement, she realized how ridiculous the whole situation was. Maybe adjusting to this simple life was going to take more time - and a lot more patience - but at least she had someone to keep her on her toes. Even if that someone was a grumpy, infuriating local who seemed to enjoy her misadventures a little too much.
"Well," she said, getting to her feet, "if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed. Unless you've got more traps waiting for me."
Sam smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Goodnight, Erica. Try not to step on anything else."
As she walked back to her room, Erica shook her head, smiling despite herself. This place is a circus, and I'm the star act. But who knows? Maybe the countryside has its charms.
*****
The next morning, sunlight streamed through Erica's curtains, casting golden streaks across her room. She groaned, burying her face into the pillow. Her body still ached from trying to keep up with Sam the day before, and the sting of their arguments lingered in her mind. Why does he always have to be so irritatingly right? she thought bitterly, turning onto her side. And why does Aunt Nena think this is a good idea?
As her stomach growled, Erica forced herself out of bed, dragging her feet to the kitchen. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and she was hopeful for a quiet, uneventful morning.
"Good morning, Erica!" Aunt Nena's cheerful voice greeted her as she stepped into the kitchen. Erica's shoulders tensed as she spotted Sam leaning against the counter, cradling a mug of coffee.
He looked well-rested and infuriatingly calm, his messy hair somehow managing to look effortlessly perfect. Why does he have to look like he stepped out of a lumberjack fashion catalog? she thought, trying not to let her irritation show.
"Morning," Erica mumbled, sliding into a chair. "What's for breakfast?"
"Sit tight. I have something special planned for you today," Aunt Nena said with a mischievous smile as she placed a plate of eggs and toast in front of Erica.
The tone in Aunt Nena's voice made Erica pause mid-bite. "Special?" she asked cautiously.
Aunt Nena's eyes twinkled. "I've decided it's time you got to know the area better. Sam will be your guide."
Erica's fork clattered against her plate as she froze, staring at her aunt in disbelief. "What?"
Sam took a slow sip of his coffee, watching her reaction with a bemused expression.
"You heard me," Aunt Nena said, unbothered by Erica's outburst. "You've been here long enough to start exploring. Sam knows every inch of this place, and I can't think of a better person to show you around."
Erica's stomach dropped. This is a nightmare. "I don't need a guide," she protested. "I can explore on my own."
Aunt Nena chuckled. "Sweetheart, the last time you 'explored,' you ended up being chased by a dog. I think we all know you need help."
Sam's lips twitched, as though he was fighting back a laugh. Erica shot him a glare.
"I don't need his help," she said, crossing her arms. "I'm perfectly capable of figuring things out."
Sam finally spoke, his voice dripping with mockery. "Sure you are. Maybe you'll figure out how to mistake the neighbor's goat pen for a shortcut again."
Erica's cheeks flushed. "That was one time!"
"And I'm sure it was unforgettable - for the goats," he quipped, earning a chuckle from Aunt Nena.
"This isn't funny," Erica snapped, her frustration boiling over. "I'm not a child who needs babysitting!"
"No one said you were," Aunt Nena replied, though her grin said otherwise. "But Sam's doing this whether you like it or not. End of discussion."
Erica sighed, slumping back in her chair. "Fine. Let's just get this over with."
*****
The sun hung high in the sky as they walked down a dirt path, the soft rustling of leaves providing the only background noise. Sam strode ahead with ease, his hands shoved casually into his pockets, while Erica struggled to keep up. The uneven ground tested her balance, and she cursed under her breath every time she stumbled.
"Can you slow down?" she called out after nearly tripping for the third time. "I'm not wearing hiking boots, you know!"
Sam glanced over his shoulder, his pace unchanging. "Maybe if you wore something practical instead of... whatever those are," he said, motioning to her designer sneakers.
"They're sneakers!" Erica argued. "They're practical enough."
"Not for here," Sam countered, smirking. "But hey, at least you'll look stylish if you twist an ankle."
Erica rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath. I'll twist more than my ankle if he keeps this up.
"Why are you walking so fast anyway?" she grumbled, quickening her pace to catch up.
"Because I'm used to this," he said simply, his tone annoyingly calm. "Unlike you, I don't need to stop every two seconds to complain about the ground."
Her jaw dropped. "I am not complaining - I'm commenting. Big difference."
Sam let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying himself. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
Erica huffed, focusing on the path ahead. If he keeps this up, I might actually scream.
After what felt like an eternity, Sam stopped and gestured toward the horizon. "We're here."
Erica looked up, her irritation momentarily forgotten. The rice fields stretched out before her, a sea of vibrant green shimmering under the sunlight. The scene was surprisingly beautiful, and for a moment, she found herself speechless.
"Well?" Sam asked, breaking the silence. "Not bad, right?"
She forced a shrug, trying to mask her awe. "It's... nice."
"Nice?" Sam repeated, arching an eyebrow. "That's all you've got?"
"Sorry, did you want me to burst into song or something?" she retorted, though her voice lacked its usual bite.
Sam chuckled, leaning against a nearby fence. "No, but a little enthusiasm wouldn't hurt."
Erica folded her arms, determined to regain the upper hand. "So, what's the big deal about rice fields anyway? They're just plants."
"They're more than that," Sam said, his tone surprisingly earnest. "Each stalk represents months of work - planting, watering, protecting them from pests. It's not just a crop; it's a livelihood for a lot of people here."
His passion caught her off guard, and she found herself listening despite her best efforts. Why does he have to make it sound so meaningful?
"So," she said, trying to lighten the mood, "are you, like, the local rice ambassador or something?"
Sam smirked. "You could say that. Or maybe I just care about this place more than you care about anything outside your city bubble."
Her mouth opened to retort, but his words stung more than she wanted to admit. Why does he always hit where it hurts?
"Fine," she said after a long pause. "Maybe it's... admirable. What you do here."
Sam blinked, momentarily surprised by her honesty. "Admirable?" he echoed, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Is that your version of a compliment?"
"Don't push it," she muttered, though her lips twitched into a reluctant smile.
They stood there for a while, the silence between them less tense than before. Erica found herself studying the fields, noticing details she hadn't seen earlier - the way the sunlight reflected off the water, the soft rustle of the stalks swaying in the breeze.
"Ready for the next stop?" Sam asked, breaking the silence.
"Do I have a choice?" she replied, smirking.
He laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. "Not really. Let's go, Miss City Girl."
As they walked on, Erica couldn't help but feel a flicker of curiosity. Maybe this guide thing won't be so bad after all. Still, she wasn't about to let Sam know that.
"Just so you know," she said, glancing at him, "if I end up with another mosquito bite, I'm holding you personally responsible."
Sam chuckled, his grin widening. "Deal. But if you get stuck in the mud, that's on you."