Page 12 of Between Here and There

“Speaking of,” Bon interjects. “The whole village has shunned him permanently. There’s a we-hate-Rob club. We have jackets and everything.” She chuckles as she takes another gulp of her noodles.

“No, you don’t,” I sigh, rolling my eyes. “Please don’t make this a bigger deal than it already is.”

They all glare at me, so I add, “Okay, fine. I know it is a big deal. Ididimagine my life with him, but right now, it’s just too exhausting to think about. And the timing couldn’t be worse. I can practically feel the neighbors’ eyes on me. Ugh.” If there’s one thing I don’t miss about home, it’s the nosy neighbors. We live in a close-knit village where everyone knows each other, where I met Rob and where Bon met Ryan.

I remember when Rob and I started dating, everyone in the village congratulated us. Rob has always been a male version of me in some aspects—studious, overly organized, all that. Everyone, except Manang Linda, was happy for us.

Manang Linda is a legend in our village. She’s an elderly woman with a perfectly coiffed head of white hair, a sharp tongue, and an encyclopedic knowledge of everyone’s lives. She runs the neighborhood newsletters. When she found out about me and Rob, she didn’t bother with pleasantries. She told me that Rob and I won’t last because we were perfectly boring. That we’re two peas in a pod, stuck in the same comfort zone. She said I needed someone to pull me out of my shell, not keep me locked inside it. Someone who would bring out my fun and not reinforce my ability to organize spice racks alphabetically.

At the time, I brushed off her comments. But, in the end, I suppose she’s right. Rob and Iwereboring. Our daily talks were more like status updates than affection.

Haley brings me back to reality. “Of course there will be eyes on you, Em,” she says. “But they will be pity eyes.”

“Hale, if that’s your attempt to make me feel better, you are terrible,” I say as she chuckles.

“The day we all found out, I heard that bitter bitch Freida say that she knew Emily’s life was too perfect to be true,” Bon says, her voice sharp with defensive anger. Freida is our neighbor who was widowed years ago at the age of forty. Ever since her husband died, she became the epitome of abitter bitch, as Bon so eloquently called her. “I overheard her, and I…” she pauses, then smiles, fighting off a laugh. “I walked over to Haley so she can tell her to mind her own business.”

We all laugh because Haley has always been our brave savior every time we need someone to handle confrontations. “Bon walked into my room like a child who got robbed of candy,” Haley adds. “Naturally, I stormed off with her and told Freida that you were still living a perfect life, probably more so now that Rob’s not around.” I chuckle with her, feeling grateful. My friends are defending me even when I’m not there. It only just amplifies the guilt I feel about lying to them. My life is far from perfect. So, so far.

“Anyway, you’re not the only one who should be worried about the neighbors. Bon, I heard your brother has gotten really cute.” Haley smirks.

“Ew, disgusting.” Bon makes a face. “If by cute, you meant he now looks like a goon, then fine,” she says.

“And please, Hale,” Kate says as she faces her sister, “You did not hear that. You were the one who started that rumor.” She shoots her a knowing look.

“Why?” I ask, curious.

“I saw Bon talking to him one time, and oh my God, Em, he was so hot,” Haley gushes, her eyes widening with excitement. “Incredibly hot—like a tan and tattooed Hemsworth brother.”

Kate holds up a hand in Hayley’s direction to silence her, leaning into the phone, “Excuse my sister, she’s been reading a lot of fantasy books lately and thinks all men should be tan, muscled, and tatted up to look the least bit attractive,” she says, her voice a playful scold.

“I’m not gonna apologize for that,” Haley replies. “Give him wings and I’m down on my knees.”

We all laugh but Bon waves us off and says, “Enough about Kuya Josh. Emily, you really do deserve to slack off every once in a while, you know. Loosen up and have a bit of fun.”

“That’s exactly what I did, Bon. And now I regret it,” I say.Did I actually regret it, though?

“You didn’t see each other again?”

“No. And that’s exactly why I regret it,” I say frustratingly. “Because now I can’t redeem myself. He probably thought I was the kind of person who usually does things like that. But no. That was the one time I didn’t do something calculated.” Of course I leave out all my escapades where I pretend to be a different person, they don’t need to know about that.

I don’t even know why I’m so frustrated when I’m the one who suggested that we have a mysterious night.

“And what’s so bad about that?” Haley challenges.“You can go to that construction site and tell him, but you don’t have to do that, Em. Maybe it’s okay that you do the casual thing for now. You’ve been tied up with Rob ever since you were old enough to like a boy, and now you deserve to fly,” she says, extending her arms in a representation of flight.

“As overly cheesy as it is, I agree with Haley,” Bon says.

“Of course you do,” I grumble, chuckling to myself.

The next week flew by so fast. I spent the next few days doubling up on my shifts and catching up on clients so I’d have enough money when I go back home for Bon’s wedding. I needed to save every penny—not just for the travel but also for the all-important pasalubong. Because, let’s face it, going home empty-handed is basically asking to be disowned by relatives.

Her brother Joshua also hasn’t contacted me yet, but that’s okay. I’m confident I’ll figure things out once I’m back in Manila. If he’s a no-show, I’m not above bribing a taxi driver to get me where I need to go.

Now, it’s the day before my flight, and Jenny, my roommate, insists on dragging me out for dinner. “You’ve been working like a mule,” she says, waving off my protests as she books us a table at a fancy restaurant with live music and overpriced water. I have to admit, it’s a welcome distraction. Between the relentless grind and my near-obsessive thoughts about a certain construction guy, I’m overdue for a breather.

The restaurant is all dim lighting and soft jazz, the kind of place that makes you feel underdressed no matter what you wear. Jenny sips her wine, watching me with a knowing look. “See? You needed this,” she says smugly.

She’s not wrong. My mind has been in overdrive, especially every day at the café. Each shift feels like a test of willpower. I keep catching myself glancing out the window, hoping for a glimpse of him. But then reality sets in, and I remind myself that the guy screams trouble; an obvious playboy who uses his charm as a weapon. I’m too vulnerable—and frankly, messed up—right now to even consider getting tangled up with him.

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