Page 79 of Between Here and There

If winking were an Olympic sport, the Philippines would swim in gold medals, thanks to Joshua. Every single time he winks at me, my breath hitches. Like now, when he steps out of his room, hair tousled and shirtless like the Greek god that he is, he winks as he says, “Morning, roomie.”

“Wear a shirt, roomie,” I manage to say, trying to keep my voice steady.

Joshua’s grin only widens, clearly unbothered by my attempt at being the responsible, reasonable one. He glances me over, slow and deliberate, taking in my outfit for the day. I’m dressed for an interview, in a crisp black dress paired with a tailored blazer and bold red heels. I catch him scanning me from head to toe with a look that makes me feel like I’ve just stepped off the runway. His approving nod only makes me more self-conscious.

“You look great,” he says, and his voice is oddly serious. He walks over to me, on the other side of the counter, and adds with that usual smirk, “Red is your color.”

I can feel my cheeks burn, but it’s not just the compliment. It’s the way his eyes linger on my lips—covered in that red lipstick—just a little longer than necessary. It’s like he’s studying them, weighing his next words carefully, and I feel a jolt of something deep in my chest.

Why did I agree to this set up again? I’m having such a hard time keeping it together.

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling very aware of the air between us. “Youneedto wear a shirt, that’s against the rules,” I repeat, but even to my own ears, I know I don’t sound convincing. I might as well be telling the sun not to shine.

He chuckles, shrugging as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I’m taking a shower soon.” He leans on the counter. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“As much as I would like to stay and watch an episode of Topless Chef,” I say, “I need to go for my interview.”

“Do you want me to come with you for moral support?” he says cheekily, as he pops a grape in his mouth. “I’ll keep my shirt on, I promise.” He swiftly puts the shirt over his head, and his hair tousles even more.

“I can manage,” I say.

“Of course you can,” he replies. “Just remember, if all else fails, my offer stands.” He says it in a more serious tone, his expression shifting from smug to surprisingly honest.

He’s talking about me being his accountant for his construction company once he inherits it. I’m still debating the pros and cons of that option. Because how can I focus on working with Joshua if a mere breakfast interaction sends my stomach twisting into different directions?

It’s been a while since I’ve been in an office building. I don’t miss it. Not one bit. I don’t miss the small talk that’s purely just pretension. I don’t miss the smug looks of men with their coffee mugs. I don’t miss the clinking of heels. I don’t miss anything.

Just as I’m about to take a seat, I notice a familiar face.

“Claire?” I blink.

“Oh my gosh, Emily!” Claire exclaims, her eyes lighting up as she rushes over. Claire was one of the few women I worked with at Titan—a bright spot in an otherwise dark chapter of my career.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

She grins but quickly glances around as if to gauge if anyone’s listening. “I should be asking you the same thing,” she says with a laugh. “Are you interviewing?”

I nod, motioning to the receptionist’s desk where I see there’s still another candidate ahead of me. “Yeah, but tell me—what’s going on with you? I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“Okay,” she says, settling into the chair beside me. Her voice carries a mix of bitterness and exhaustion. “After you left, Ben started joking about the whole thing. It was vile. He’d make comments about how women should ‘know their place,’ throw in those misogynistic quips like they were some kind of office banter.”

I shake my head, not surprised. Typical Ben.

Claire presses on, her tone sharpening. “Then one day, he crossed a line—a very personal one. Something about my looks, my work, and how I should just ‘smile more’ to get ahead. It was the last straw. I told them I couldn’t stay in an environment like that. And you know what Ben said? He said, ‘Everywhere is like this.’ Like it’s some universal truth we just have to accept. And honestly?” She steps closer and keeps her voice quiet. “It scares me that he might be right.”

Her voice wavers for a moment before she steadies it. “Since you left, four women, including me, have resigned because of him. But does it matter? No. Because Ben brings in the big clients and the big money, so he gets to stay. And we? We’re expendable. We’re the ones who have to pack up and start over somewhere we’re treated like actual human beings.”

I feel my jaw tighten, a familiar frustration rising in my chest. Of course Ben gets to stay. It doesn’t matter that I landed three major clients in just ten months. It doesn’t matter that I was on track to match—or surpass—his success.

At the end of the day, none of that matters.

Because I don’t have what he has: a Y chromosome and a dangling bit of anatomy that, apparently, grants you unchecked power and immunity in this world.

Claire leans back in her seat, exhaling sharply. “It’s infuriating, isn’t it? Knowing you’re good—better, even—but it’s never enough because of... this.” She gestures vaguely at herself, her expression a mix of defiance and defeat.

And she’s right. Itisinfuriating. But as I sit there, an idea starts to form in the back of my mind. Maybe Ben’s right. Maybe environments like Titan are everywhere. But... I don’t have to work in one.

Maybe it’s time to build something different. Something better.

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