CHAPTER EIGHT Emily
CHAPTER EIGHT
Emily
T aylor Swift is wrong. Karma isn’t the breeze in my hair on a weekend. Karma is the breeze in my hair on a Monday as I wait for another taxi because the one I’m currently in breaks down on the way to the airport.
I’m not even surprised by my misfortune anymore. I’m genuinely convinced someone is stabbing my voodoo doll to death, and this is just a bit of torture before the big blow. Honestly, this is what I get for shoplifting that pen when I was a senior in high school. In my defense, I had an exam in ten minutes, and the sales clerk was on a bathroom break.
My flight leaves in two hours, and I’m still twenty minutes away. I flag down cabs like a madwoman, but it’s like I’ve suddenly become invisible. Just as I’m about to resign myself to missing my flight, already worrying about the costs of booking a new one, a cab finally pulls over.
“JFK?” the driver asks after rolling his window down. When I nod, he starts loading my bags into the trunk and says, “There’s another passenger, same destination.”
Would’ve been nice if he’d mentioned that before turning my suitcase into a projectile, but whatever—I just need to get to the airport. I slide into the backseat, completely ignoring whoever’s sharing this ride with me. That is, until they speak.
“Hello there, where are you off to?” says a voice that’s way too familiar. No, this cannot be happening.
I turn to my left, and sure enough, it’s happening. Sitting there with a grin is the same guy I’ve bumped into twice in the last two weeks—the same guy I made out with during one impulsive, mystery-fueled night. He’s rocking a black shirt, dark jeans, and a hoodie, with a baseball cap that lets a bit of his hair peek out just right.
“Hey. Look at you, already part of my reality,” I mutter, trying to sound cooler than I feel. I’m definitely not about to ask him why he didn’t come back for me—that would be weird, especially since I was the one who insisted on staying nameless for the sake of ‘mystery.’ But, come on, a tiny part of me expected him to show up at the café or the club like some hero. Not that I want a relationship right now, but it would be nice to feel liked. Ugh, I’m such a loser. He probably doesn’t even remember me. Does he?
“It’s only a matter of time, Tantrum.” Okay, he does . He chuckles and takes a glance at my crumpled, slightly coffee-stained itinerary. “No way. Manila too? That’s where I’m headed,” he says, pulling off his baseball cap and ruffling his hair like he’s in some kind of shampoo commercial.
“You’re from the Philippines?” I ask, trying to process the increasingly bizarre turn of events. I guess, now that I think about it, he does look Filipino. His tan skin, jet-black hair, and warm brown eyes should’ve tipped me off.
“Yup. Born and raised,” he says, leaning back casually. “Moved here when I was nineteen. I usually head back for the holidays, but my sister’s wedding is in five days, so I’m staying longer this time.”
He says it so easily, but my stomach twists. Sister’s wedding. Five days... Could he–? No, I’m overthinking again. There are millions of people who would get married in five days.
He pulls out his phone and glances at it. “Speaking of which, I need to call her friend. We’re riding home together. Excuse me.”
Wait. A. Minute. I’m also going to Manila for a wedding in five days. And I’m supposed to get a call from Bon’s brother. Bon’s brother lives in Manhattan. Isn’t he an engineer? Construction, or buildings, or…
I blink rapidly, pushing the thought down. It can’t be him. It’s too crazy, too unlikely. I brush it off as he dials a number on his phone, hoping to distract myself from the rapid-fire questions bombarding my mind.
“I hope she answers. I forgot all about it. Bon will kill me if she finds out I never called her.”
That’s when my brain screeches to a halt, locking onto the name.
Bon.
I blink again, once, twice. My mind races, tangling up in the possibilities. Five days. Sister’s wedding. Riding home together. Bon. I feel my pulse quicken, my breath coming in shallow bursts. What’s the probability that a woman named Bon, who has a brother that works as an engineer in Manhattan, is getting married in five days?
The pieces fall into place like a slow-motion crash I can’t stop watching.
No.
No. no. no.
NO.
NOOOOOOOO.
The gasp escapes me before I can stop it, and my phone vibrates in my hand.
He looks at me with a mix of curiosity and confusion, then glances down at his phone, then back at me. Haley’s words from our last FaceTime echo in my head: ‘Like a tan and tattooed Hemsworth brother.’ Shit.
Hi, Universe. Now would be a good time for that mysterious murder.
I sigh. “Joshua… Bon’s brother Joshua?” I say, still in disbelief. I look at him, scanning for any indication that he was the Joshua we grew up with but I can’t find anything. I know he lives here, but I never really thought about Joshua Santiago since he left the neighborhood ten years ago.
I glance at him, his phone still in his ear, as if expecting someone else to answer. I reject the call, and the ringing stops. He’s still staring at his phone like it’s the first time he’s seen one.
And then he looks at me and our eyes meet. “Emily?” Joshua doesn’t remember me either. I guess I don’t blame him. I’ve changed a lot since I was fourteen. My hair, for instance, used to be short and jet black. But when I moved here, I started to dye it light brown and let it grow to my elbows. I look like a completely different person, and apparently, so does he.
“Yup. It’s me. Emily,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant even though my insides are going crazy. His eyes go wide as the realization dawns on him. Holy shit. I actually gushed about that kiss to Bon, Haley, and Kate. I recounted every detail with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for celebrity gossip—completely oblivious that I was talking about Bon’s brother.
I can’t believe it. I kissed Joshua Santiago and I didn’t know it. Joshua, who spent the better part of his teenage years babysitting me and Bon. Joshua, who was like an extra sibling to me. Joshua, who changes girlfriends faster than he changes clothes. This is a disaster. No, this is catastrophic.
I glance at him again, and he looks like he’s still processing this too. Oh, boy. He regrets it, doesn’t he? That he kissed me? I feel the panic coming, and when he looks at me, I expect him to get angry or completely ignore me. But he… laughs.
“No way. Emily Rodriguez? The genius kid with the dust allergy?” Joshua says, his eyes widening with a mix of recognition and amusement. I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. I guess decades aren’t enough to erase a person’s quirks in someone else’s memory. Joshua might have been a responsible older brother, but he was also the kind of older brother who would tease, annoy, and make you so mad you cry in your room after he tells you that he used your favorite rag doll as a vomit-absorber after a house party.
“I’m kidding,” he adds with a chuckle. “I meant to say, Emily Rodriguez—my sister’s best friend who practically lived in our house.”
I can’t even process the absurdity of this. I put my hands over my face. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this. Oh my god, we kissed . I cannot believe I enjoyed a kiss with Bon’s brother ,” I blurt out, my breathing coming in ragged bursts. “I should have known something like this would happen. I shouldn’t have let loose like that.” My heart is racing as if it’s trying to escape from my chest. I bang my head on the headrest and try to steady my breathing.
I anticipate a reply from him, but nothing comes. So, I look over at him, half expecting him to be as flustered as I am. But instead, he’s smirking. And surprisingly calm. “How are you not freaking out?!” I demand.
“First of all, thanks, I’m glad you enjoyed our kiss,” he says, placing a hand over his heart and giving me a sarcastic smile. In that smile, I see a flash of the boy I once knew—the same mischievous glint in his eyes and that annoying grin that’s really just attractive now. Time has transformed us both, but some things haven’t changed at all.
“Second of all, why would I freak out? It was a good kiss, but it was just one kiss, Em. I’m sure you’ve had more meaningful nights with other strangers. You don’t have to freak out about it.”
And there it is—a punch to the gut. Of course, it’s so me to overthink and ascribe more meaning to that kiss than it deserved. He’s right, though. At the time, he was just a stranger. We had fun, and now it’s just a memory. And I shouldn’t probably correct him if he thinks I’ve had meaningful nights with strangers. Maybe it’s better for me to just let him think that.
“I have a question, though,” he says after a while, shaking his head as if he’s trying to reconcile the memory with the present. He goes silent for a moment, clearly deep in thought, then narrows his eyes at me. “Isn’t Emily supposed to be a big-shot Wall Street accountant?”
I completely forgot about the whole facade I put up. He saw me at not just one, but two different jobs. There’s no way I can lie my way out of this one. It’s like life has been continuously throwing me curve balls and I haven’t dodged a single one.
I let out a heavy sigh. “Well, Emily was indeed a big-shot Wall Street accountant for about ten months. Then the universe decided her talents were better suited for managing espresso machines. And it’s been a month since she lost her job. She hasn’t mentioned this to anyone in Manila to avoid the judgment, so she’s begging you not to rat her out.”
He bursts into laughter, and it’s a sound that feels unexpectedly warm and genuine. “Oh, Emily, you’re something else. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” He leans back in his seat, still chuckling.
“At least one of us finds my misfortune entertaining,” I grumble, but I chuckle regardless.
When we finally arrive, Joshua pays for the cab fare and brushes off my attempt to split it. “Since you’re between jobs right now, I’ve got this, Tantrum,” he says with a wink. I roll my eyes and step out of the cab.
“Bye,” I say casually, tugging my luggage to the cart.
“Don’t want to stick around with me?” he teases.
“Oh God, no,” I reply. “I need a break from you before I have to see you every day.”
He laughs and says something, but I’m too focused on creating distance between us, so I just wave as I head into the airport.
Once I finish checking my bags, I scan the snack options near the boarding gate. I wasn’t able to have breakfast this morning because I overslept. Apparently even ten alarms with two-minute intervals are not enough when your body is dead tired. And no, caffeine will not ease your tiredness, something I learned the hard way when I downed an espresso shot before leaving the apartment.
With about fifteen minutes before the gates open, I decide on a tuna sandwich and a lemon soda. Finding a quiet bench, I settle down to eat in solitude and reflect on the disaster that is my life. Can someone call Oprah now? I’m ready for my life to be turned upside down.
I booked this flight three months ago during a seat sale. I clearly remember working late and taking a break to FaceTime with Rob. We were both (or maybe just me) gushing over Bon and Ryan’s engagement when I got a notification that the flight I’ve been tracking was at an all-time low. I booked it immediately. Rob was thrilled that we’d finally get to see each other after two years. Now, sitting alone with my sandwich, I can’t help but question how genuine his happiness really was. How sincere were his declarations of love and longing when he was involved with someone else? How could he tell me he loved me and stay on the phone for hours? Cheaters are such good actors, I have to give them that.
The truth stings. Moments shared, plans made, promises exchanged—all now tainted by betrayal. In the interest of not sounding like a sore loser, I’m gonna spare you the specifics of how I meticulously planned my wardrobe for this trip, in anticipation of Rob popping the question. We have, after all, been together for five years. I even bought a designer dress, perfect for the moment I’d imagined in my head. Like most things in my life, I’ve already lived every possible scenario in my head, so I’m either perfectly prepared or utterly devastated when reality doesn’t measure up. Unfortunately, this time, it’s the latter.
I stare at the half-eaten sandwich in my hands, its taste suddenly bland. Swallowing hard, I push aside thoughts of Rob and try to focus on the trip. Manila awaits, and right now, my thoughts are far away, waiting for the temporary escape from my tangled emotions and shattered trust. Of course, Rob will be there. But not even his presence will stop me from being the best maid of honor Bon could ask for.
But then, there’s also Joshua. I still don’t know how to deal with that either. Part of me hopes he’s on the same page—that we can just pretend nothing ever happened. Sure, I still find him ridiculously attractive. But I won’t go down that road. Not now, not ever.
As I board the plane, I reflect on how strange life is. Just when I think I’m escaping reality for a while, it always finds a way to catch up. I can’t help but wonder if there will ever be a time when reality is better than my escape.