"Are you trying to make me laugh?" Thalia sneers, her gaze entwined with Miguel's. "You think I'm really that desperate?"

"What? Wasn't it you who said you'll marry to stay?"

Thalia swallows, shame coloring her expression. "I was messing around!"

"You can secure your status. Go back to school, get certifications, or anything else you need to return to the field you want," Miguel states. Indeed, he had done his research — understanding the distinctions between a work permit and permanent resident status, contemplating the life she could have with the latter. And the quickest route available to her is through marriage to someone with permanent residency, or to him, a citizen.

"You can find a better job and not worry again."

To claim that the offer doesn't entice Thalia would be dishonest. Given everything she's grappling with, Miguel is offering her an exit strategy.

"And what's the catch for you?" she mutters, suspicion attached in her tone. "You're not gaining anything from this. Your parents leaving you alone isn't reason enough—"

Miguel flinches, withdrawing, but maintains eye contact. "Fifteen grand."

"What?"

"Pay me fifteen grand. I want to migrate out of the city."

Thalia's eyebrows shoot up. "To go where? And aren't you earning a lot from your streams?"

"I do, but extra cash won't hurt," he retorts. "I have my sights set on another province. I don't want to take over the family store."

"Why not? You know the ropes," she pries.

"I'm not interested in selling Filipino local produce."

Thalia doesn't bother stifling a snort. Miguel's disconnection from his roots seems second nature. "I don't have any money on me. Even if you set me on fire, I won't smell like cash."

"I don't need it right away," he says, his fingers casually moving to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, the brushing of his skin against hers sending her jitters. "We'll... Get divorced in a year or two. You'll have it by then."

Thalia strides restlessly past him, pacing back and forth. "It's that easy for you to bring up divorce, huh?"

Miguel lifts a shoulder in a nonchalant half-shrug, appearing unaffected. "Or we can just stay married if it means a lot to you."

"Even if we don't love each other?"

"It's just a piece of paper," he continues, attempting to gauge Thalia's reaction. She seems genuinely pondering the proposal. "But on the... On the off chance that I start to actually like you, then you won't owe me a single dollar."

Thalia shoots him a leer. "Isn't that already the case, though?"

It's Miguel's turn to laugh. "You're proving to me again that I'm not the one with an inflated sense of ego." His grin persists. "Anyway, when that happens, you can simply move with me. That's not too bad, eh?"

Thalia ceases her pacing and faces him squarely. "Not too bad? I think it's more than bad if I don't return the same feelings."

"The odds of you not returning it are close to none."

"Who has an inflated sense of ego again?" Rolling her eyes, she quips, "Never mind. I'll just pay you. And doesn't it cross your mind that maybe I don't want you to like me?"

His lips tighten into a straight line. "What? You'd rather pay than have us, again, this is only hypothetical... Have feelings? Seriously?"

"Why are you offended? Do you admit it? That you want to get married because you're into me?"

Damn. This is really painting him as if he's head over heels for her when all he is trying to be is a good-natured person! She's evidently fooling around with him again, pushing his buttons whenever she feels like.

"You're making this complicated. Maybe it's you who's into me," he spats, trying to regain control, albeit the impact is miniscule. "You're projecting. That's your style anyway."

Thalia snorts and advances towards him again, each step pushing Miguel to retreat until he feels the cold wall against his back. Her stare remains fixed on him as she motions forward.

She's dangerously close. One misstep, and their lips will inevitably touch.

Miguel swallows, his eyes darting in all sorts of places, trying to evade Thalia's gaze. She, however, strategically angles her face in every direction, blocking his view.

"S-Stop..."

"Stop what?"

"Stop what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

He surrenders, reluctantly permitting himself to make eye contact, and a crimson shade crosses his cheeks.

The atmosphere takes an abrupt turn as a sly smirk forms on Thalia's face. "Look at you. I haven't even touched you, and you're already hard down there."

Miguel instinctively covers his reaction, his jaw tightening, and veins popping on his forehead.

This woman knows exactly how to get under his skin.

Thalia folds her arms, smirking. "I'll think about your proposition." She walks over to the kitchen, navigating through the mess on the floor, and grabs her jacket. "I'm off. See you later."

******

Jesus Christ.

What the hell was that? Why did he extend a marriage proposal to the most annoying woman he's ever met?

Miguel leans his forehead against the wall, the same one where Thalia had cornered him, waiting for the heat of the moment to subside.

This fucking male anatomy. It is unfair that his arousal is blatantly evident, while he can't tell if Thalia had felt the same way.

Probably not. She left with such an unbothered facial expression, as if he had no sway over her emotions.

"Damn it..." he grumbles, punching the wall with just enough force to vent frustration without causing damage.

It was humiliating—Miguel had practically groveled for Thalia to take him. Him, who had never pleaded for anyone to stay in his life, not even with Steph, who ended things because she had grander ambitions, ones that Miguel couldn't fathom.

When she declared she was moving to New York, all Miguel managed was a feeble "Good luck," met with an incredulous "What the hell?" and a resounding slap. And a barrage of words consisting of 'loser', 'hopeless', and the like. That gaming isn't a real job, and he should stop living with his parents.

Five years. It took Steph half a decade before she unleashed every single grievance she harbored during the span of their relationship.

The silver lining in the breakup with Steph manifested in Miguel's newfound time to focus on his content creation. His subscriber count catapulted from 20,000 to a staggering 500,000, and he finally seized the opportunity to monetize his channel. In that regard, he didn't succumb to hopelessness.

Alright. Reminiscing about Steph has absolutely turned him off. He settles onto the carpeted floor, exhaling deeply, feeling the drain of energy.

Had he lost his pride, opening himself up for a fourth rejection?

He needs a plausible explanation to salvage his dignity. Intoxication is off the table since he had been undeniably sober. What other excuses?

"Okay. I have ghost possession, weed smoking, and then pranking..."

In the midst of brainstorming, his thoughts involuntarily gravitate back to the moment when Thalia had pressed him against the wall, almost leading to a kiss. He can still recall the citrusy scent, her delicate neck exposed as if tempting him to take a bite.

And there it goes up again...

Holy shit, he needs to address this.

******

Thalia departs the apartment, her signature stoic expression intact, yet as she scurries over to the bus stop, she can feel her cheeks and her body heating up.

"You're crazy, Thalia. What do you think you're doing?"

Had Miguel taken advantage of her, flipped their positions, and pressed his lips to hers, she wouldn't have maintained her composure. A poker face would have been out of the question.

After all, being in close proximity to him was irresistibly alluring.

He smelled so amazing and looked so incredible even when he was merely moving to a different apartment! Who has the time to dress up?!

But wait, what the actual heck? He asked her to marry him?

"He's insane. Absolutely crazy. Proposing after just a few weeks of talking? He must have lost it."

Thalia boards the bus and settles at the very back, choosing a window seat.

It can put an end to all her worries. Marrying her boss, as ludicrous as it sounds, seems like the only viable long-term solution she can think of. What will her mother and Aly think about faux marriage? 

Fifteen grand. Divorce.

She'll be a divorcee? She's a Catholic!

Besides, despite her teasing, she's unsure if Miguel genuinely feels anything more for her. What if he truly just wants to appease his parents or use her as an escape plan to leave Edmonton?

Or what if he just wants her body?!

"Well, so what? Not like it matters now..." she mumbles, earning the curious glance of the teenager who sits in front of her. Thalia awkwardly offers a smile.

They do share interests, with him getting his parents off his back, and her not having to stress about her status. From this perspective, she truly stands to benefit more from the marriage. There's not much to lose, but a lot to gain.

As for Miguel, he's a catch, if she's being honest with herself. She could have ended up with a worse partner. Nonetheless, she has envisioned staying as good friends (yes, she's abandoned the belief that boys and girls can't be friends) since he's the only person who hasn't made her feel alone recently.

But tying the knot with Miguel is a leap too far. This isn't how she imagined ever getting into that kind of commitment with anyone. It should stem from love, with a man who sweeps her off her feet—a man eager to share a lifetime with her.

With the way it's going, however, Thalia can't shake the feeling that her life has taken an even more pathetic turn, leaving her with no alternative but to wed out of sheer obligation.