Page 76 of Between Here and There

“What’s wrong?” I feel his tone shift. It’s almost as if I can see him with his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched.

“Do you happen to know of any available apartments I can move into? Like... immediately?”

I can hear the click of something—maybe his phone shifting in his hand, maybe him pausing what he’s doing to focus on me. Before he can answer, I rush on. “I was supposed to move into this studio on 34th Street, but the owner and I had a little misunderstanding. Apparently, she thought I was moving next week, and I thought I was moving now. So, yeah... I’m kinda homeless at the moment.”

I wince at the word homeless. It feels a little too dramatic, but it’s not entirely untrue.

There’s a brief silence on the other end, then Joshua’s voice cuts through, warm and confident. “I know one. Are you okay bunking with someone, though?”

Bunking? That’s a weird word to use, but it’s better than sleeping on a park bench. I try to keep my tone light, even if I’m already mentally planning how I’ll make a nest on a stranger’s couch for the next few days. “Sure, no problem. I’m sure I can make it work.”

“It’s a big place,” he continues, his tone casual but somehow reassuring. “Three bedrooms, right in the heart of Manhattan. You’ll even have your own room.”

That catches my attention. My own room? In Manhattan? Oh, this is gonna be expensive. “Sounds good,” I say, already calculating the cost of staying at a hotel so I can easily compare. “When can you introduce me to the owner?”

“Soon,” Joshua replies, then pauses for a moment, almost like he’s considering something. “Just so you know, the owner’s a hot bachelor. Easily the most handsome man you’ll ever meet.”

I can feel my stomach twist, and my immediate response is to roll my eyes, though I’m grinning a little. “Oh, boy. The apartment’s yours?”

Joshua laughs, a warm, rich sound that somehow makes everything feel more manageable. “Glad to see we’re on the same page,” he says with a playful note in his voice. “I’ve never had a roommate before, so this should be interesting.”

I guess we’re not just friends, but we’re also roommates now. Interesting turn of events indeed.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Joshua

Emily’s gonna live with me. Live. With. Me. For only eight days, sure, but still. It’s unsettling; I know I should be creeped out by now. I’m usually the one to go to girls’ apartments when we hang out, so I can slip out easily and come home to my own solitude. During the rare times that girls come over to my place, we use the second bedroom because I’m uncomfortable sharing my actual bed with strangers.

Not that Emily’s staying in my bed, but I don’t mind if she does. Dammit. I’ve never been this hung up on a person before. Is it still the inexplicable itch? If we’d have sex, will this attraction dissolve?

Okay, that thought doesn’t help at all.

“So, where are you?” I ask as I call Emily back. I told her I wasn’t busy, but really, this day couldn’t get more stressful. In fact, I was in the middle of inspections when she called me.

So when we finished talking, I rushed through the toolbox meetings and made sure all my reminders were given immediately. I take the rest of the day off to go to her.

“Still here, on this bench, munching on a hotdog,” she says. I can’t help but chuckle.

“Do you have a lot of stuff?” I ask casually. I just need to get some details to make sure she’s comfortable during her stay.

“Oh, no, just a few, really,” she says in a tone that’s almost embarrassed. “I only have clothes and a few personal items. I don’t have stuff to put in your place, if that’s what you’re wondering. I don’t really have furniture or something like that,” she says so quickly.

“Emily,” I say slowly. “That’s not why I’m asking. I’m asking because if you have a lot, we’ll call a mover’s truck. If you have a few, I’ll pick you up in my car.”

“Oh,” she stutters. I can’t believe she would think that her furniture would bother me. “Driving in New York? Are you sure?” she asks. I chuckle because she’s right. Driving in New York is torture. I can’t remember the last time I used my car here, since subways and taxis take me where I need to go. Aside from the fact that my car is huge, New York traffic is terribly close to Manila traffic, but Emily is sitting on a random bench, with her luggage in tow. It’s the least I could do.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I say as we hang up.

When I pull up to the sidewalk where she’s seated, her face lights up and I can’t help but smile. She’s wearing a white knit sweater, dark jeans, and black boots. Her long, straight hair is blowing gently with the wind. She tucks a strand behind her ear, and waves at me.

I take a deep breath. Friends. She wants us to be friends.Be playful, be cool, but don’t make it awkward.

I open the car door and step outside. “Hey,” I say.

“My hero,” she says as she laughs.

I wink at her, because I apparently don’t know how to keep things simple. “Anything for you, Tantrum,” I say, immediately regretting how over the top that sounded. So much for not making it awkward. I quickly sidestep and grab her suitcase—why is it so heavy?—and load it to my car. She clutches her backpack like it’s the Hope Diamond, refusing to let it go. “I’ve got this,” she insists, her arms tightening around it.

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