Page 10 of Between Here and There

“Ugh. I wish more customers would tip like you.” I grumble as we leave the diner.

He opens the door for me, and we walk the quiet streets of New York City. We walk side by side, our arms occasionally brushing against each other. Conversation is flowing effortlessly and the city around us seems to fade into the background, leaving just the two of us and the shared understanding that, for tonight, at least, we’ve managed to escape.

CHAPTER SIX

Joshua

I’m walking her to her apartment as the cool wind blows past us, causing her long, flowy hair to cover her beautiful face. She tucks a stray strand behind her ear, and in that moment, her eyes catch the moonlight—a soft, light shade of brown, much like her hair. The sight of her is almost unfair, like something out of a dream. Faces like hers should come with a warning label: Danger—irresistible. Proceed at your own risk. And yet, here I am, willingly walking straight into the fire.

At first, I was hesitant to go to dinner with her. But when she suggested that we stay completely anonymous, I figured that maybe she’s more like me after all. Maybe she’s also the kind of person who doesn’t like the real world too much to build connections and commit. So I just made the decision to enjoy the evening.

We’re walking along the streets of the city that, even at 2 a.m., is wide awake. We walk on the cobblestone paths where various vehicles are parked along the street. In this quieter portion of the city, you can almost feel at ease. Peace, even. And for a moment, it’s easy to forget that this is New York.

Except, New York doesn’t like it when you forget about her. And she reminds you right away. Because when I look up, the glow of the buildings in Times Square is still very much visible, adding illumination to our path. The air is crisp, with just enough chill to make the girl wrap her arms around herself, her coat swaying slightly as we walk.

I glance over at her, and the wind does that thing again—blows her hair right into her face. She lets out a tiny, frustrated laugh and tucks it behind her ear, only for it to come loose again. I can’t help but grin.

“Do you need me to hold it back for you?” I say. “I’m starting to think your hair has a personal vendetta against me.”

“Chill. It’s just keeping me mysterious; adds to the whole ‘woman of intrigue’ vibe I’m trying to pull off,” she says with a chuckle as she once again swipes her hair away from her face.

“It’s working.” I snicker.

We reach her building—an old place that’s clearly seen better days. The brick walls are cracked in spots, the mortar is crumbling, the iron railings are rusted, and paints are peeling. I’m not even sure this building’s up to code anymore, but there’s something about places like this, worn and weathered, that somehow feel more like home. My apartment? It’s as generic as they come. Just Google ‘bachelor pad,’ and you’ve got it.

She glances up at the apartment, then back at me, a bit apologetic.

“I’d invite you up, but I have a roommate, and trust me, it’s a shoebox in there.”

I shrug, stepping just a little closer. “That’s okay. Besides, I like the mystery you’ve added to our evening, Tantrum.”

This is where I should hit pause, call it a night, and end on a high note. There’s this rational voice in my head that’s urging me to walk away now, before this slips into something complicated. Then there’s the irrational voice that says I can make the most out of the final minutes of our little bubble of escape. After all, we’re strangers, this night will end, and we might never see each other again.

So I listen to the irrational voice.

“Actually, I’ve got one last round of truths for you,” I say, watching her face light up with that teasing spark.

She raises a brow. “Oh? This I have to hear.”

I take a breath and start, “One, I’ve never been on a second date. I’m… usually the casual type.” Might as well make that clear now. “Two, tonight made me question everything I thought I knew about myself and relationships.” A pause, then I meet her gaze, steady. “And three, I definitelydon’twant to kiss you right now.”

Her eyes widen just a little, and I can tell she’s thrown off, which makes me grin. The truth is, whatever effect I have on her is nothing compared to what she’s doing to me. She meets my smile with one of her own, softer, maybe a little shy. She takes another step closer, and we’re separated by mere inches.

“Alright, my turn.” She clears her throat. “One, I may never want to be in a relationship again,” she says, her tone suddenly serious. “Two, I’mdreadinggoing back to my life as I know it.” Her gaze flickers down to her feet for a second, like she’s holding back a weight of unspoken thoughts. Then she looks back up at me, those eyes holding mine with a pull that feels like it’s unearthing something in me I’d forgotten was there. “And three…” she leans in, voice softening, “I’m not attracted to you at all.”

She places her hand on my arm, and the contact sends a shock through me, like she’s just plugged me straight into the mains. Every sensible thought flies out of my head in an instant. I chuckle under my breath, feeling the way my pulse spikes, my body reacting to her without permission. Never did I feel like this before.

I lean in, slowly this time, and her breath hitches. I smile gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her skin is warm and soft under my touch, and her eyes—those damn eyes—are locked on mine, just as steady and sure as ever.

I tilt my head, closing the distance between us. My lips meet hers in the softest, most tentative press. And for a moment, it’s just that: a soft press. But then she leans into it, and so do I, and the kiss deepens, becoming something more urgent. Her full lips are velvety, moving against mine with this perfect balance of sweetness and hunger. A shiver runs down my spine as I slide my hand to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, wanting more.

Her hands leave my arm, fingers sliding into my hair, tugging me in, and I lose myself in the feeling. The world around us disappears. The noise of the city, the cool night air, everything else—it all fades away. It’s just us, here, in this kiss.

My other hand finds her waist, holding her gently but firmly. She responds, wrapping her arms around my neck, drawing me in even further. The heat builds between us, like we’re both burning up.

Before the kiss can turn into something hotter, something deeper, she pulls back, just enough. We’re both breathless, our foreheads resting together, our breaths mingling. Her eyes are dark, alive with something raw, something unspoken.

I can’t help but laugh softly, still overwhelmed from the kiss. Reality slowly creeps back in, the world outside our bubble coming back into focus. We’re still standing here, in the middle of the night, in front of her apartment. Any second, that door could open, and yet we’re frozen in place, caught in the aftermath.

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