CHAPTER FIVE #2
She startles at the sound of my voice, nearly dropping the books in her arms. With a huff, she manages to steady them before turning to glare at me.
“It’s Kate,” she corrects sharply, shifting the books to one side so she can reach for her car keys.
I grin, unfazed. "Right. My bad. Kate."
She exhales like she doesn’t have the patience for this, which is fair. I imagine I’m not the first person to test it. “Is it short for Katherine? Katrina? Mary Kate?” I continue as I walk with her.
“It’s short for none of your business. What do you need?” she asks with a huff to keep a strand of hair off her face.
“Actually,” I say, “I think you’re the one who needs me.” I gesture to her mountain of stuff.
“No.” She answers too quickly, tightening her grip on the books.
I raise my hands in surrender. “Suit yourself.”
Kate reaches for the car door handle, but the angle makes it awkward with everything she’s carrying. She tries once, twice—then lets out a frustrated sigh.
I watch for a beat, then step forward, reaching past her to pull the door open. She stiffens, her breath catching just slightly.
“There,” I say, stepping back like I didn’t just invade her space. “Not that hard, right?”
She stares at me, and for a second, I think she’s going to say thank you. But then her lips press into a thin line, and instead, she mutters, “I could’ve done it myself.”
I smirk. “I’m sure you could’ve.”
Kate doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she places the books and pastries onto the back seat and slams the door shut with a little too much force.
“So,” I continue, watching as she moves around to the driver’s side, “any chance I can hitch a ride?”
She freezes, one hand gripping the door handle. Then she turns to me, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”
I shrug. “Heather, my agent, said it’d be good for my image if we got along.” I walk over to her side of the car.
Her expression is unreadable. “And you think riding with me will make us get along?”
“Well, it can’t make things worse,” I say. “You’re not my favorite person in the world, but somehow, your recommendation can help me speed up the process of going back to my home in the city.” I smile, though the thought of living there doesn’t excite me in the slightest.
“And why would I want to help with that?”
“Because I’m guessing you also do not want me around. The better the recommendation, the faster I’m out of here.”
She glares at me, then spends a second thinking about it. She gets into the driver seat, and tells me, “Whatever, just don’t talk.”
I grin. “No promises, Katie.”
I close her door and jog to the other side. The glare she shoots me could probably set me on fire. I enter her car, and as suspected, I don’t fit. I move the seat all the way back and recline.
“Your car is tiny,” I say as I finally squeeze myself in.
“You’re free to get out. She’s perfect.”
“She?” I ask as I attempt to put on a seatbelt.
“Daisy. My car.”
I stare at her. “You named your car?”
Kate turns to me with a deadpan look. “You don’t name yours?”
“No, because it’s a car.”
She scoffs under her breath and shifts into drive. “Typical heartless behavior.” She starts driving and makes a turn. “Just need to drop off something.”
She turns toward Lily’s, a convenience store. I admit, for a convenience store it looks oddly put together. There are flower beds, lounge seats and tables outdoors, and a very warm exterior of yellow wooden pleats. It looks like someone’s house with just the word ‘Lily’s’ plastered on top.
Kate parks and grabs the bag of pastries, opening her door. “Wait here,” she says.
I don’t wait. Instead, I follow her in, the bell above the door jingling as we step inside.
Inside, I confirm that it’s not just a convenience store.
The right side is lined with the usual aisles filled with grocery items, while the left side is a giant lounge with mismatched chairs and wooden tables.
There are photos on the walls, drawings plastered on one side, and everything that makes the place feel homey.
Behind the counter, the woman who gave me the biko yesterday, Manang Linda, is stacking packs of instant noodles, her silver hair pinned back with a bright yellow clip. She looks up when she hears the bell, and her eyes narrow when she spots us.
“Good morning, you two,” she says teasingly.
Kate smiles and shakes her head. “Just dropping these off, Manang Linda.” She sets down the pastries on the table in the store’s lounge and starts arranging the display.
I grab a chocolate chip cookie from the display, and Kate narrows her eyes at me. She swats my hand away before I can grab a brownie too. I chuckle at her determination.
Manang Linda looks at us and says, “You look more handsome when you laugh, Michael.”
“Katie’s funny when she thinks her five-foot frame is frightening.” I laugh again, but Kate is rolling her eyes.
“Five-two, but whatever. Bye, Manang Linda. Enjoy the pastries,” Kate says as she makes her way out. I follow her quickly.
When we’re back in the car, we drive in silence. I take a bite of the cookie Kate baked.
“Holy shit, Katie, this is the best chocolate chip cookie I’ve had in my life,” I say, unable to contain myself.
Kate smirks, looking way too pleased with herself, and says, “I know.”
“What’s in it?” I ask, licking crumbs off my fingers. “Love? Care? All that cheesy stuff? You strike me as someone who’s into the cheesy stuff.” She ignores me, so I ask again. “So, what’s the secret ingredient?”
She keeps her eyes on the road. “Rat poison.”
I nod. “Cool. Worth it.”
She taps her fingers against the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road. I glance at her, at the way the early morning sun filters through the windshield, catching the brown curls that have already started escaping her bun.
“So, you bake fresh batches every day? For free?” I ask as I put the entire cookie in my mouth.
“It’s therapeutic. And, you know I’m a kind person…” she trails off.
“Ah. Unlike me, right?”
Her silence is answer enough.
I smirk, shifting to face her fully. “You know, Katie—”
“Kate.”
“—I think you have the wrong impression of me.”
“Oh, do I?” She glances at me, unimpressed. “Please, enlighten me.”
I lean back, draping an arm over the headrest. “I’m not as much of a lost cause as you think.”
She lets out a short laugh. “Right. Says the guy who shoved a referee in the middle of a game.”
I shrug. “There’s a reason.” A stupid reason, but a reason nonetheless.
Kate shakes her head, muttering something under her breath. But she doesn’t press the topic, which surprises me. Most people would. Most people have.
Instead, she just focuses on the road ahead, knuckles white against the wheel.
I watch her, curious. “You don’t ask a lot of questions, do you?”
She doesn’t look at me. “Not everything needs to be my business.”
I let that sit between us for a moment. It’s different. Most people in this town—most people everywhere—love to pry. Love to dissect every move I make for the sake of entertainment.
But Kate? She looks like she couldn’t care less. Like she’s already boxed me into whatever judgment she’s made and doesn’t see the need to reassess. Like I’m not even worth the effort.
And that pisses me off.
“So,” I push, jaw tightening, “you really don’t want to know why I did it?”
She exhales through her nose, like I’m exhausting her. “I already know why you did it.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Yeah? Enlighten me.”
She finally flicks a glance in my direction. “You don’t like being told what to do. You live in this little bubble where everything goes your way. And when it doesn’t, you snap.”
That’s it? That’s the whole damn answer?
I shake my head, letting out a scoff. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Kate just shrugs, completely unbothered. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”
I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “Wow. Real insightful, Kate.”
“That’s Miss Kate to you,” she quips, completely unbothered, as if I’m some annoying background noise she’s learned to tune out. She stops at the school parking lot and gets out.
She’s not asking. Not even mildly doubting. She’s sure. Kate thinks she has me all figured out and doesn’t even need to ask if she’s right. And for some reason, that irritates me even more. Because if she’s already decided who I am, then nothing I do will ever change her mind.
Sorry Heather, I can’t be ‘chummy’ with someone like her.