CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX Joshua
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Joshua
W e’re leaving in an hour, and I’m buying mints at Lily’s. Just as I’m about to drop my money on the counter, Manang Linda enters.
“Too eager to leave, Joshua?” she teases.
“Eager? Not at all,” I say with a casual wink.
She raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You sure about that? You look like someone with somewhere important to be.”
I laugh, slipping the mints into my pocket. “Just making sure I’m prepared for the flight.”
“You and Emily ready?” she asks. I simply nod, with a smile. “She looks like she’s going through something.”
My casual demeanor falters. “Why? What happened? Is she okay? Did she say something?” I ask, the words spilling out faster than I can catch them.
She narrows her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching upward in a knowing smile. “You’re the boyfriend,” she says with a shrug. The word catches me off guard, and I quickly remember the act. I straighten up, forcing a calm expression.
“Emily doesn’t always ask for help,” I say, carefully choosing my words.
“Doesn’t mean you can’t help her,” Manang Linda replies. “Anyway, I’m sure you have it figured out. You are together, after all. I see how smitten you are with her.”
I muster a smile, though my thoughts are anything but light. “Is she okay?” I ask again, quieter this time.
“I don’t know,” she says, her voice a little gentler now. “But whatever it is, if it’s a problem in your relationship, fix it. She’s a lovely girl, that one. Intelligent, strong—”
“Beautiful,” I add before I can stop myself.
Manang Linda gives a satisfied nod. “Yes. Girls like her don’t come around often. Especially for you.”
That last part catches me off guard, and I frown slightly. “What does that mean?”
“Well, I’ve seen you with girls before—don’t act surprised. You’ve been away for ten years, but in the moments I remember, you’d wink and smooth-talk your way through every relationship growing up. You’ve had more girls than I have wrinkles on my face. But none of it was like this,” she says.
“Like this?” I echo, genuinely curious now.
“You,” she says, pointing at me with a knowing look. “You’re different. Calmer. More... serious. With Emily, it’s not just about showing off. You’re invested. I see it in the way you look at her, even when you think no one’s watching.”
I sigh. Manang Lindathinks I’m different with Emily because she’s “the one.” And for a second, I wish it were true.
“I guess she brings out a good side of me,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
Manang Linda smiles knowingly, but her next words are softer. “Then don’t lose her, Joshua.” She gives me a casual wink, and taps the floor with her cane.
I swallow hard, nodding as I leave Lily’s. Her words linger as I step outside, the weight of them settling into my chest. Don’t lose her?
Joke’s on you, Manang Linda . Because I never really had her to begin with.
We haven’t spoken a word since we left. The silence hangs heavy in the car, broken only by the hum of the tires on the road. I glance at Emily in the passenger seat. She’s leaning slightly against the window, her fingers fiddling with the strap of her bag. She’s wearing a black tank top and white jeans, and even in the midst of all this awkwardness, she’s beautiful. The sunlight filters through the windshield, catching on the golden undertones of her skin, making her eyes seem impossibly warmer beneath her oversized sunglasses. It even emphasizes the faint freckles across her nose, freckles I don’t think I’ll ever stop noticing.
I want to say something—anything—to break the tension. But every time I open my mouth, the words catch in my throat.
As we enter the airport, I steal another glance at her. She’s biting her lip, a nervous habit I’ve picked up on during the past few weeks. Is she dreading this as much as I am? I hate not knowing.
By the time we’re seated at the gate, waiting for our boarding group to be called, the awkwardness feels suffocating. I can’t stop stealing glances at her, hoping for some kind of opening, some sign that she wants to talk. But she’s staring straight ahead, lost in thought.
We’re called to enter the plane, and I go straight to business class. Emily pivots to the other side but I manage to catch her elbow. She looks up at me with surprise, and for the first time all day, her eyes meet mine. I missed those eyes, and I can’t help it as my mouth twitch up to a smile.
“I, uh, bumped you up again,” I say, gesturing for her to sit with me. Her eyes widen. “I upgraded it when I paid for the first flight. I forgot to tell you.” The truth is, I planned for this to be a surprise, so I can be smug and tease her when we return. But our whole dynamic has shifted, and teasing her doesn’t sound like a good idea.
“Thank you,” she says as she offers me a soft smile. I take her luggage and lead her to our seats.
I put her luggage overhead, and she offers me an awkward smile. She takes her seat and fumbles with her seatbelt. I glance at her, and our eyes meet briefly before she looks away instantly. I look down, giving her space.
The plane is about to take off, and beside me, Emily is clutching her seat, her knuckles white as she grips the armrests. I remember her fear of flying, and without a second thought, I extend my arm so she can grab my hand, completely forgetting about any awkwardness. Emily doesn’t hesitate as she takes it and grips it with the same strength she did during the first flight.
“I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it a thousand times more until you believe me,” I whisper, my voice steady with resolve. “You’ll never face anything alone as long as I’m here, Emily.”
She blinks up at me, her lips parting slightly as if she’s about to say something but can’t quite find the words. Finally, she whispers, “Thank you.” Her grip on my hand tightens. “We’re okay?” she asks, her voice laced with uncertainty. It’s the question both of us have been dancing around for days.
“Of course,” I say, hoping to ease at least a little bit of the tension.
I look at our intertwined hands, and gather the courage to say what’s been in my head for these past days. “I don’t want to go back to being strangers.”
She looks up. “Me too,” she says.
But before I can say anything else—before I can suggest that maybe we could try to be something more—she continues, her words cutting through me like a blade.
“We can be friends.”
Friends. I swallow hard, forcing a smile.
Just when I thought I could try something real. Just when I thought maybe I could be the person who commits.
But she doesn’t see me the way I see her. I thought—maybe—but no. She’s drawing a line, and I don’t understand it. She’s always been there, in a way that feels more than just friends, hasn’t she? Or is that just me, getting ahead of myself, hoping for something that was never there to begin with?
I want to ask her why, but I know that’s not my place. If that’s what she wants, if that’s what she’s comfortable with, then I’ll take it. It’s better than nothing, better than losing her entirely.
“Sure,” I say, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue. “I’ll be anything you want me to be.”
Emily
Friends?! What in the world was that, Emily?!
In my defense, I just wanted the tension to go away. I wanted to rewind, to go back to how we were before the hike—before the tent, before that lingering look that still plays on a loop in my mind. We were easy then, weren’t we? Comfortable. Just harmless, playful flirting. A weird sort of us that didn’t need defining. And now? Now it feels like we’re on the edge of something, and I’m terrified of falling.
Besides, what was I supposed to say ? Hey, Josh, I think I might be in love with you, and it’s driving me insane. Yeah, no. For all I know, he’s still the same commitment-phobe he’s always been, the guy who casually mentions how he ‘doesn’t do labels’ and would rather talk about work than feelings. What if I told him how I feel and he just… laughed? Or worse, what if he got that look on his face—the one that says I’ve completely misunderstood the nature of our relationship?
So, yeah. I panicked. And instead of saying something real, something honest, I said ‘friends.’
And now I’m here, clutching his big, strong hand. The plane jolts slightly as it ascends, and I tighten my grip. He doesn’t pull away. If anything, his thumb brushes against mine, so subtle I might have imagined it.
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He’s staring straight ahead, his jaw tight, his profile unfairly perfect. I wonder what he’s thinking. Does he regret reaching for my hand? Is he replaying my stupid ‘friends’ comment in his head, realizing how pathetic I sounded?
I close my eyes and take a shaky breath. Maybe being friends is enough. Maybe it’s better this way. No expectations, no heartbreak, no faking anything.
At least, if we’re ‘friends,’ he gets to stick around.