Page 11 of Between Here and There

“Wow,” I whisper, surprised at the words slipping out. I didn’t mean to say it, but there it is.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, her voice thick. “Wow.”

Despite my desperate urge to carry her and barge into that door with her to the nearest room, I compose myself and say, “So, is this where the adventure ends?”

“For now,” she nods. But her eyes say the thing we both know—that thisiswhere the adventure ends, and after tonight she will be nothing but a memory. Our kiss, a fleeting moment, will become the benchmark against which all future kisses are measured.

“Goodnight then,” I say, grabbing her hand and pressing a final kiss to her knuckles. She smiles, her face flushed with crimson.

“Bye,” she says as she turns her back and enters her apartment.

The sharp click of my office door shutting behind me feels like a world away. I’m seated at the breakfast table with Tito Luis, the owner of the construction company, running through our usual status reports.

“Everything ready for the bid for the project on 73rd Street?” he asks, as if we hadn’t just spoken about this last week.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m submitting it before my flight to Manila.”

I continue to give him status reports of all our Manhattan projects. Even when I’m assigned to supervise a single project, as a future executive, I should know the status of the others as well. Tito Luis has been asking me to present these status reports every week.

I didn’t sleep last night. Or the nights before that. And these reports aren’t the only reason why. Tantrum Lady hasn’t left my thoughts since that night. Days have passed, and each day when I arrive on site, I have to physically restrain myself from walking toward the café where she works. My mind drifts to the image of her, and I find myself checking the café’s back entrance, hoping—though I know it’s irrational—that she might slip out for a moment.

But she never does.

Today, as I reach the site, the pull is stronger than the previous days. I keep replaying our last moments together like a movie reel. It’s as if every corner of my mind is haunted by that kiss, and I can’t seem to escape the lingering sense of what could have been if I talked to her again.

At lunch, I slip out of the site, and walk toward the café, trying to act nonchalant. There are more customers today than most days, and it’s probably because of the poster plastered on the cafe entrance that says lunch sets are half off.

My eyes are drawn to the windows, searching for a glimpse of her. I catch a brief, flickering view of her through the glass—her silhouette moving with precision. I step closer and peer inside. She’s still engrossed in her tasks, completely unaware of my presence. She smiles politely at customers and tucks a stray strand of hair back into her hairnet with a practiced flick.

For a moment, I’m tempted to walk in, to say something—anything—that might break through the silence and bridge the gap between us.

But of course, I’m pulled back into rationality. It’s alarming how much I want to talk to her again, as if I want something more. It’s not like I know her enough to want that. We only shared one date and one kiss, after all. I don’t even know her name. And I have never—never—become so hung up on someone before.

So I retreat to my usual thoughts: relationships are messy, complicated, and something I’ve avoided because I prefer order and clarity. I don’t want to be entangled in something that might turn out to be more trouble than it’s worth. I take a deep breath, turn on my heel, and walk away. I convince myself that it’s for the best. That seeing her again will only ruin everything I’ve ever believed in.

As I walk away, I remind myself that I have the trip back home to look forward to, a change of scenery that will hopefully clear my mind and keep my mind off her.

Though home is an enigma in itself. New York is lonely, and I get homesick more than I like to admit. But going home and seeing everyone again brings a different kind of anxiety. You see, I don’t usually care what people think of me—let them talk, judge, gossip. Doesn’t bother me. But the entitled neighbors? The ones who poke their heads over the fence like human periscopes, asking if I brought chocolates and pasalubong? And my mother, who can turn a casual breakfast into an inquisition about when I’m getting married? Yeah, that’s less “nostalgia” and more “slow descent into madness.”

Sure, I miss some things. Like warm weather and friends. And Bon, as noisy as she is. And I suppose going home has to be better than this, right? I mean, what’s worse: a swarm of meddling relatives and neighbors or fawning over a girl I just met? At least back home, I’ll have distractions. And who knows, I might even meet someone in Manila—casually, like I always do.

Maybe by the time I get back, I’ll have forgotten all abouther—that impossibly infuriating tantrum lady.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Emily

“In no way did you just kiss a stranger,” Haley says. It’s two in the morning here and two in the afternoon in Manila, and I’m FaceTiming with Haley, Kate, and Bon, my best friends. It’s been days since I kissed the attractive-as-hell stranger and this is the first time we had the chance to catch up.

“I did. I know, it was stupid,” I reply, rubbing my temple in frustration.

“It’s great, Em. You deserve it,” Bon chimes in, slurping her cup noodles. “It’s normal post-breakup behavior. As long as you don’t make a habit of kissing strangers, you’re good. Cut yourself some slack.”

“She’s right, you know,” Kate adds, and Haley playfully smacks her arm. They’re in the same room, and you might be wondering what three twenty-somethings are doing at home in the middle of the afternoon. Bon’s on break from work for her wedding preparations, Kate just finished her shift as a preschool teacher, and Haley’s wrapping up a local production of Waitress.

“What do you mean, she’s right? Have you kissed a stranger?” Haley says, eyeing her twin sister.

“Right. Because I never had a boyfriend, but I just go around kissing strangers.” Kate rolls her eyes. “I simply meant that Bon was right that Emily should cut herself some slack. Rob was an idiot and we all agree.”

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