Page 78 of Between Here and There

“Okay, fair, I’ll keep my shirt on because myphysiqueis distracting you,” I run a hand across my chest with a smirk that I hope says ‘casual confidence’ and not ‘panicking inside.’ I clear my throat, trying to regain composure. I walk closer to her and lean casually on the doorframe, then I say, “And while we’re on the subject of distracting, then you can’t show your back tattoo.”

Her head tilts, and she arches an eyebrow. “Oh?”

I shrug, trying to keep a straight face. “It’s too hot, hence, distracting.”

Her lips curve into this slow, knowing smile that is 100% going to be the death of me. “Really?” she asks with the tone of fake innocence.

“Yes,” I snap, feeling my face heat up. “Dangerously so. I’m just looking out for public safety here.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, tapping away at her phone, clearly enjoying herself.

“And lastly,” she lifts her gaze to mine like she’s about to drop a bomb, “no sex.”

WHAT.

I choke on absolutely nothing. “Excuse me?”

“No. Sex.” She enunciates each word like she’s explaining it to a child. “Do you agree?”

The sheer audacity of her tone sends my brain into overdrive. Does she think it was on the table? Does she thinkI thinkit was on the table? DoI thinkit was on the table? I can’t even deal with the implications here because my brain is now an endless loop ofsex-table-sex-table. Well, I do have pretty sturdy tables… NO.

I shake my head. “Em, if you’re worried about that, I feel like you’re giving me way too much credit.” I flash a smile that Ihopeexudes nonchalance.

She rolls her eyes. “I’m just being clear.”

“Yep. No sex. Crystal clear,” I say, biting back a grin.

“So do you agree?” she asks again.

Shit, I have to be cool about this. “Of course.”

“Good, so here it is!” She hands me her phone so I can see our new shared note.

I skim the list, my smirk widening. “Just to clarify,” I say, handing the phone back, “I still consent to anything and everything under the sun. Just throwing that out there.” I chuckle, remembering our old list back in Manila.

She rolls her eyes, snatching the phone back.

“And,” I add, leaning closer with a grin, “You still can’t eat strawberries unless you want me to kiss you.” I can’t control myself. Flirting with her is second nature.

Her cheeks turn a brilliant shade of red, and I swear she mutters something under her breath as she storms into her room.

“Wait,” I say. She peeks out the door that’s half-closed, and raises her eyebrows. “Just wanna say, make yourself at home. You’re free to make this place as homey as you want it to be.”

She smiles. “You bet I will.” She shuts the door.

I stand there for a moment, grinning at her retreating form like an idiot. Then the silence settles in.

The grin fades as I drift into the kitchen, her words echoing in my mind. My gaze falls on the blank walls she’d so gleefully called soulless earlier. She wasn’t wrong—it is lifeless. And maybe that’s why her presence feels so strange. Like she’s dragging something vibrant into this space, filling corners I hadn’t even realized were empty.

I open the refrigerator, scanning its barren shelves, and grab a notepad to start a grocery list for Emily. Eggs, milk, bread.

My pen hovers over the page for a beat before I scribble one last item with a smirk.

Strawberries.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Emily

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