Page 142 of The Fallacy of True Love
I scrambled up, putting my backpack on and grabbing the cooler I’d kept in the overhead storage. As I made my way off the bus, I wiped the bleariness from my eyes and willed myself to wake up. Only a couple of minutes separated me from Maya, and then?—
“Manila.”
My gaze landed on the girl who had taken up residence in the forefront of my mind. I blinked, and I was suddenly in front of her, staring into warm brown eyes that seemed to laugh at my disorientation.
“Took you long enough,” she said.
I still couldn’t believe she was here. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I had to make sure this city boy I know wouldn’t get lost.”
“I’m good with directions, but I’ll never say no to you picking me up.” I grinned at her.
I wanted to step closer to her and pull her to my chest, but she kept a clear distance between us. Wanting to respect her space, I stayed put, contenting myself with taking her in.
She averted her eyes, muttering, “Stop looking at me like that.”
“I can’t help it.” It had only been a week since I last saw her in person, and being with her now felt like a dream.
“C’mon,” she said as she strode over to the single tricycle idling by the road. We squeezed next to each other in the cramped sidecar, just as we had on our first jeepney ride in Manila. Like then, I was painfully aware of every curve of her body as it pressed against my side. The anticipation was there too, only dialed up in magnitude because I wasn’t just hoping for a couple of nights.
I was shooting for a future.
Soon, we pulled up in front of her house. Maya paid the driver, and I stepped out of the tricycle. As I turned to help her out, my cooler hit her knee.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I said, holding the cooler away from her.
She rubbed her knee. “S’okay. At least it’s not a surfboard. You know we have ice here, right?”
“You said you missed the mais con yelo, so I brought you some.”
She stared at it. “You brought me mais con yelo.”
“I got one for you and your friends. I asked them to separate the ingredients into different containers, but they said they aren’t allowed to because of company secrets. Like it’s not just corn, sugar, milk, and shaved ice.” Aware that I was rambling, I took a breath. “Do you want yours now?”
Her lips pursed as she continued staring, then she blinked, raising her eyes to meet mine. “It’s not breakfast food,” she murmured.
I smiled, because that was exactly what she’d said the first time. “It’s good to branch out sometimes.”
“Thanks. I’ll have it later.”
There was just enough light to make out the slight sheen in her eyes, and I frowned, wondering if I’d said the wrong thing. “What’s the matter?”
She walked toward the house without answering me.
Over the past week, she had grown more open with me, making me believe that this could work. Somehow, it felt like she’d redrawn the walls that initially stood between us.
“Did I do something wrong?” I continued, my rough voice at odds with our peaceful surroundings.
“No.”
“It feels like I did. If so, tell me and I’ll fix it.”
She whirled around to face me. “This is what you did.”
“What?”
“I promised myself I would never let another guy in, and now look at me. You’ve got me losing my head more than anyone else ever has.”
