It was not a cold night. Not a night in Cebu ever was, rather stricken with thickness of humidity. But I was shivering, as well as my companions, inside a taxi as we headed back to the city. We were thoroughly soaked from the party, our clothes hung to our bodies, and the airconditioner incessently blasted in front of us as if it were the north winds. We sat in the back, the four of us, like quivering penguins. She was leaning forward, muttering something to her cousin who was cramped in front with another one of her cellphone-crazed friends, in such a way that the her pyjama-looking pants slid beneath and revealed the small of her back and her rather colorful panties. She is as carefree as that, or indifferent, so much like a child. I did not call her attention to it. There was no need, no was else was there to see, except for me perhaps. There were red hearts printed on it, and blue bears, and - Damn it. I closed my eyes instead, slightly tilted my head, and pretended to fall asleep. Later, I felt a gentle weight upon my chest, or half of it, and the warmth a bliss from the frigid airconditioning. She leaned back comfortably against me, and snugly nestled her head on my shoulders. Through half open eyes, I watched the streetlights outside pass by us, and the stars seem to be more brightly aglow behind the clear moonlit night sky.