Page 4 of Between Here and There

“Sounds like you’ve had quite the day,” he says, a sympathetic smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, you could say that,” I reply with another sigh. “Everyone has off days, even eavesdropping construction workers, I assume?” I deflect because I’m not comfortable talking about my problems. Not to him, not to my family, not even to a therapist.

“More often than I’d like to admit,” he says, shrugging. “But I’ve never been pranked into calling out for a Hugh Jass, so you’ve got me beat there.”

I laugh, already feeling a tad bit lighter. “Well, don’t lose hope just yet.”

He grins, flashing a smile so perfect it’s almost ridiculous. “Though, I have to admit, you’ve definitely made my day a lot more interesting,” he adds with an effortless wink, his confidence radiating in a way that feels second nature.

Just then, a group of girls strolls by, their conversation tapering off as they very openly gawk at him. There’s no subtlety, just wide-eyed stares and muffled giggles as they whisper among themselves. I can’t even blame them. If I were walking with my friends and we saw a stranger this attractive, we’d probably be doing the exact same thing. So, yeah, I get you, girls.

He doesn’t budge, though. Doesn’t even look. It’s like he’s used to the attention.

I take the last bite of my sandwich, hoping it hides the fact that I’m as flustered as the ladies.

“Glad I could help,” I say with a wry smile. “And thanks for the water… and for pulling me back in that alley.” I stand and smooth out my apron. He stands, too, and I’m suddenly reminded of just how tall he is; I barely reach his chin.

“Just promise to be careful, Tantrum.” He smiles. “I won’t always be around to save your day.”

“Whatever,” I reply with a chuckle. “I have to go back.” I start backing up to the entrance. “More big butts to attend to.”

“Okay,” he quips. “Next time you need me, you know where to find me.” He gestures to the construction site a few feet away.

“And when you want to throw in a cappuccino order for a Phil McGroin or something, you’ll have it on the house!” I offer, gesturing the café behind me.

“Will that earn me a coveted spot in your tantrum session?” he asks, biting back a smile.

My heart skips a beat at the look in his eyes. “Definitely.” I grin. “Seriously, though, thanks again. You’re not such a bad lurker after all,” I say over my shoulder, opening the back door to the café.

“High praise,” he bows with a flourish that makes me giggle. “I’ll take it.” He smiles, the most perfect smile I’ve ever seen on a human being. I can’t help but wonder why he’s working his ass off here and not just posing for a Calvin Klein billboard, leaning over a yacht or walking on a beach.

With that, I wave and turn back to the café.Okay, Universe, maybe I forgive you a bit for now.

CHAPTER THREE

Joshua

It’s impossible not to notice her. Not because of the tantrum she just threw—though that certainly made an impression—but because she’s pretty. Undeniably so. Not many people can look attractive in a hairnet and visor, but she does. She’s got that kind of beauty that probably gets her free drinks and meals from strangers. If I’m being honest with myself, I approached her because of her looks and knew I’d regret it if I didn’t talk to her. Is it a crime to be attracted to tantrum-throwing ladies? I hope not.

I was peacefully having my lunch under the shade of the tree when I heard her scream. I was lost in thought about how I could finish all my deliverables for the day when her loud shrieking messed up my thoughts.

Before I can walk away, my phone rings, and my sister’s face lights up my screen. I sigh as Bon talks—like a damn machine gun—on the other line.

“Bon, I heard you the first time. And the second time. And I also heard you now,” I grumble to my annoying little sister, pinching the bridge of my nose. Well, little is the wrong way to put it. For starters, she’s taller than most of her friends, and she’s already about to get married in two weeks. Either way she will always be little to me. A five-year age gap isn’t a lot, but it’s enough to make me act as another parent for Bon.

As for the annoying part, she’s probably still annoying to everyone else. She’s so loud and so talkative that I don’t really know how I managed to survive growing up in the same house as her. And I can only wish the best of luck to her future husband, but he already thinks he hit the jackpot with her, so there’s no need for that.

“But I know you. You space out,” Bon says from the other line. It’s evening in Manila, and she’s probably about to go to sleep. I only sent her my flight details today since I was too busy these past few weeks, and she called immediately after that. And being Bon, she’s calling me again now only a few hours later. I shake my head, remembering when she and Ryan were still figuring out their relationship.

They were on a volunteer mission in Batanes when they fell for each other, and Ryan called me for advice. Me. The most unworthy person to give advice on love. But since we all grew up together, I assumed the role of everyone’s older brother. I must’ve done something right, since they’re getting married after all.

“I understood you loud and clear,” I say. She’s bombarding me to call her friend Emily—who also lives here in New York—and give her a ride back home once we both arrive in Manila. Emily lived in the same neighborhood as us and grew up in front of my very eyes. She and Bon spent every single day of their lives glued together, and I always had the unfortunate task of looking out for them. From babysitting them to driving them around. But I never saw Emily again once I moved here. She’s probably nothing like the girl I remember with those big glasses I used to tease her about, short hair, and freckles. All I know now is that she’s an accountant somewhere in Manhattan. I saved her number when she moved here to please Bon, but I had no intention of ever using it. Until now, I suppose.

“I will call Emily. See you in two weeks. Now please, shut your mouth and close your eyes. I can see your eyebags from here.”

“Ass,” she grumbles and hangs up. I chuckle quietly and store my phone back in my pocket as I walk back to the site.

I’m currently overseeing one of the priority projects in this area of New York. We’re building a new commercial center that’s supposed to be a game changer for the area. As the deadlines get closer, we’re facing delays, which, frankly, isn’t helping my case in proving to my uncle that I’m ready to take over after his impending retirement. The construction business is demanding, but I owe it to him for trusting me. Taking over his company is surely gonna be difficult. It means long hours, endless meetings, site work, and the weight of expectations. Sometimes, I wonder if I’m ready for it all, but then I remember why I moved to New York: to build a life for myself, take on challenges, and grow.

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