Page 54 of Between Here and There

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Making sure they fit properly,” he says, removing the sneakers I have on. “You’re not hiking in bad shoes on my watch.”

I watch him work, my heart doing a weird little flip. “You know, you’re kind of bossy,” I murmur.

“Says the control freak,” he shoots back without missing a beat, glancing up at me with a smile.

And not just any smile. It’s one of those rare, genuine ones—the kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and sends an annoying, fluttery warmth spreading through my chest.

Oh, boy. My little parasites are back.

Sometimes, I think I’ve built up immunity to Joshua’s charm. I’ve spent enough time around him to know his arsenal of looks, quips, and flirty comebacks. But then, he gives me one of these real smiles, and I’m reminded—unfortunately—that he’s really,reallyattractive.

Joshua takes my foot in his hands, the warmth of his palms seeping through my sock, and slides it into the boot. His fingers brush against my ankle as he adjusts the fit, sending jolts of electricity up my leg.

He works methodically, tugging the laces tight and tying them with practiced ease. “Stand up,” he says, motioning for me to test the fit.

I do as he says, reluctantly impressed by how comfortable they feel. “Okay, not bad,” I admit.

“Not bad?” He smirks, standing up to his full height. “You mean perfect.”

“Don’t push it,” I mumble, sitting back down to take them off.

Joshua crouches in front of me again, reaching for the second boot. Our eyes meet for a brief moment, and he smiles subtly. And then a voice cuts through the moment.

“Wow, Ate, you’re really milking this princess treatment,” Lila teases, appearing out of nowhere with an armful of brightly colored sneakers. “Should I leave you two alone?”

“What’sthat?” I ask, ignoring every word she said.

“Kuya Josh said he’d get me anything I want today,” she says with a shrug. “I’m gonna ask you to choose the best one from this pile.”

“Get it all, Lila,” Joshua replies casually, not even glancing her way.

Lila squeals, clutching the sneakers dramatically to her chest. Then, in true little sister fashion, she looks at Joshua and says, “You know, you kind of look like you’re about to propose down there, Kuya Josh.”

I brace myself, expecting Joshua to stiffen or maybe crack a joke to deflect. Even Superman has his kryptonite, and Joshua’s, as far as I know, is the mere mention of a lifelong commitment.

But to my surprise, he doesn’t flinch. Instead, he winks at her, completely unfazed. “If I were, you’d be the first to know, Li.”

Lila cackles, skipping off with her ridiculous pile of sneakers, leaving me alone with Joshua once more.

I shake my head, watching her go. “If you spoil her like that, you’re going to have to keep it up. She’ll pester you to death.”

Joshua stands, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “I’m no stranger to pestering little sisters,” he says with a grin.

He doesn’t realize what he’s done. That simple act of buying Lila those sneakers? It’s more than just indulging a teenager’s whims. She’s been asking me for things—sneakers, bags, a new gadget—all things I used to say yes to without hesitation. But lately, I’ve had to deflect, to make excuses, because I can’t afford to be as generous as I used to be. And I couldn’t bear to tell her that.

I glance at him, standing there so effortlessly. “Thanks,” I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?” He looks at me with genuine curiosity, as if he has no idea. Maybe he really doesn’t. Maybe he’s just really a kind person. Because, apparently, attractiveness and humor are not enough to make a girl swoon.

“For…” I hesitate, searching for the right words. But instead, I just smile. “Never mind.”

Joshua raises a brow but doesn’t press. Instead, he flashes another grin. “Come on. Let’s see if these boots can survive a test walk before tomorrow.”

Everything I know about Joshua Santiago paints him as a dangerous player, the kind of man you guard your heart against. And yet, there are moments like this, where he unknowingly eases my burden, where he holds my hand to stop my anxieties, where he helps me in stressful situations. Moments where he does something quietly kind, achingly tender. And those moments rewrite the story.

Now how do I protect my heart from that?

---