CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Michael
Tita Frances, Kate’s mom, hands me a shirt. She insists that I call her ‘tita,’ like everyone else around here. We just finished breakfast, and she immediately hands me this.
“I don’t know if it’s your size, you’re a very large person, but I hope it fits.”
I mutter a quiet “Thank you,” and then hold the shirt out. It’s light blue, and on it are the words, ‘Cruz Family: We Stick Like Rice’ written in bold red ink.
I chuckle. I’ve been given a lot of brand deals, with shirts that are personalized to my liking. But never as a part of a tight-knit family. I smile at her and thank her again.
From behind me, a voice says, “Don’t tell me you actually like it.” I turn and see Kate, in the same shirt, wearing a sun hat and denim shorts.
We arrived late last night, or early morning, or whatever 3 a.m. is categorized as. I barely slept, but somehow I feel better than I normally do.
Her lips curl into that half-smile she does when she’s trying to tease but can’t hide the softness underneath.
“I think it’s iconic,” I say. “It has corny lines. What’s not to like?”
“If you think corny lines are iconic, wait ‘til you hear last year’s,” she says, and when I look at her, she adds, “Cruz Family: Full House and Fuller Hearts.”
I chuckle and start putting the shirt over the one I’m wearing. “How do I look?” I ask. It’s a little snug, but it’ll do.
“Like a tourist who hasn't done laundry in weeks and had to borrow a shirt from the locals.”
Before I can respond, someone yells, “Picture time!” and suddenly, the patio is a flurry of aunts reapplying lipstick, uncles standing in their default dad poses, and cousins arguing over who gets to hold the baby.
Apparently, it’s tradition. They always take a final photo before leaving for their annual trips, and now, somehow, I’m in it.
We squeeze into the frame. I stand beside Kate, and her shoulder brushes mine.
I glance down. She’s smiling at her little cousin who’s trying to make bunny ears behind her.
Her eyes sparkle in a way that has nothing to do with sunlight and everything to do with who she is when she’s with the people she loves.
The shutter clicks, and then comes the rapid-fire follow-ups. There’s a photo with ‘just the siblings,’ then a photo with ‘cousins only,’ then a photo of everyone with Lolo and Lola.
None of my professional photos are as fun as this one. I smile as everyone pushes each other to get in the frame.
After the photos, the goodbyes start. Hugs are thrown around like confetti. Another tita hands me a bag of leftover kakanin and tells me I need to “fatten up.”
A sleepy uncle claps me on the back. “Next time, you play basketball with us, okay? We'll see if you’re really good.”
“Definitely,” I say with a grin.
Eventually, we pile into the van for the ride back to Magnolia Heights. I expected chatter and energy. But after all the movement and sun and laughter, the family hits a collective wall. Within ten minutes, most of the van is asleep.
Outside, the world is a blur of tree-lined roads and rolling hills, dipped in late afternoon gold.
Kate’s curled up on the seat behind me. I see her from the side mirror. Her legs are tucked under her. She’s asleep, her head tilted against the glass, the too-large Cruz Family shirt bunched up awkwardly at her waist. Her fingers twitch every few minutes. I wonder what she’s dreaming about.
I lean my head back, let the rhythm of the road rock me into that half-awake place.
For a second, I just listen. To the van. To the wind. To the quiet in my head that only seems to exist when she’s nearby.
I think about the almost-kiss again. The way we’d both leaned in. The pause. The breath. The rollercoaster interrupting at exactly the wrong time (or the right time, depending on how you look at it).
Would I have kissed her?
Yes.
Should I have?
I still don’t know.
But I do know this: I like being with her. Not just in that moment, but all day. As often as I can. And when I think about the looming deadline of this little life I’ve built here, my stomach sinks.
But I push it away for now and lean my head back, letting the calmness wash over me as I take a much-needed nap.
When we reach Magnolia Heights, it’s almost night.
I step out of the van, stretching my arms overhead, trying to shake off the stiffness. The air smells like pavement, the smell of pine and cool air long gone.
Kate hops out a second later—but before I can say anything, Haley comes barreling down the driveway toward her, yelling, “Em’s here!”
They squeal, link arms, and vanish up the path like it’s a race.
I’m left blinking after them, still half-asleep, clutching a half-squished bag of kakanin. There’s a small, stupid part of me that feels… left behind. Which is ridiculous. I’m not even part of their friend group.
I start to turn toward my own house when someone grabs my arm.
I whirl around.
Kate is there, a little out of breath, hair slipping out of her ponytail. “What are you doing?” she says like I’ve just committed a felony.
“Uh… going home?”
She blinks at me like I’m an idiot, which, to be fair, I sort of am. Then her face softens.
“Michael. Come on.” She nudges me with her elbow. “I’ll introduce you.”
There’s that same spark in her eyes—the one I saw when she was smiling at her cousin earlier. Like she lights up around people she cares about.
So I follow her.
When we get to Lily’s, the place is buzzing. Everyone is gathered there. Haley, Richard, Bon, and Ryan are laughing over a tub of fries. But there are two new faces. The ones from the video call. The long distance friends.
“Hey, big fan,” the guy says as he comes over, grinning. He’s got tattoos trailing down one arm, ending in a rose on the back of his hand. He’s a little bit shorter than me but somehow feels taller. Like confidence just radiates off him.
I pull the hood of my jacket down and shake his hand. “Michael.”
“Joshua,” he says, gripping my hand firmly. “I know who you are, man.” He chuckles. Then the lady comes up behind him, and his demeanor instantly changes. “This is Emily,” he says, suddenly gentler.
Emily gives me a friendly nod and a handshake, then her eyes are already on Joshua. She leans toward him like it’s second nature.
“Nice to meet you,” she tells me as they both invite me to the center of the lounge.
“Hey, Mike,” Richard sits beside me. “How’s the trip? That family is loud,” he says. I look at him as he takes a handful of fries.
“Have you been on their trips?” I ask.
“Sometimes,” he replies.
“Sometimes, when he wants free food and lodging,” Haley interjects. Then she turns toward Richard. “My cousin says he practiced Uno because of you,” she adds.
“I would’ve gone, but I told you I had an interview thing,” Richard replies, and Haley just rolls her eyes.
Laughter fills the room—Bon’s voice rising above the rest, Ryan’s low chuckle, the scrape of a chair being pulled out. I glance around at all of them, realizing I’m already in the middle of it. It’s a nice feeling, being part of something outside of sports.
Then Kate slips beside me without a word and nudges a soda into my hand. She doesn’t say anything at first. Just sits close enough for our shoulders to touch. And somehow, it feels natural.
“So, what’s the deal with you two?” Emily asks. “I heard you’re a secret girlfriend, Kate.” She chuckles as I recount the day I posted that blurry photo of Kate for the internet to see.
I expect Kate to deny it like she always does, but this time she just shrugs. “It’ll die down like most gossip does,” she says.
I smile and add, “Or not.” She glares at me and I laugh, opening my soda can.
“You’re coaching the Little League?” Emily adds, looking at me. Even when she’s talking to other people, her hand is laced in Joshua’s rose-tattooed hand. And even when he’s doing something else, he never once lets go of her. It’s oddly grounding to see.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I’m supposed to leave town after the final game on Saturday, but I figured I can’t miss Kate’s prom-themed year-ender.”
Kate nudges me with her elbow and says, “It’s not my year-ender. You helped with the idea.”
“Yeah, but you’re the one who put it in stone.” I smile. “You were very convincing. I think Richard cried.”
“I yawned, that’s different,” Richard says.
They all laugh, and I glance at Kate again.
She’s laughing too, her eyes crinkling in that way I’ve seen a thousand times—but it feels different now.
Like I’m finally part of the reason why.
Of course, there’s a possibility that I’m imagining all this.
That I’m the only one whose mind was rattled by that Tagaytay trip.
“I’m so excited,” Bon says. “I finally get to go to prom with you!” She pulls Ryan up, and he hesitantly stands up. “We’re gonna dance and eat and party, and I won’t have to worry about looking good for the rest of the evening ‘cos you’ll come home with me either way!”
Ryan just smiles as he watches her twirl around him and jump at excited suggestions.
Love is radiating from everyone tonight. Well, those four. Emily and Joshua, Ryan and Bon. I feel weirdly jealous of the way they act around each other. And as I glance at Kate, I know she feels the same way. After all, she’s the hopeless romantic.
When everyone’s busy with their own little conversations about prom, Kate whispers to me, “You’re really supposed to leave after Saturday?”
I nod. “Yeah. But I wouldn’t miss my first prom.”
“You’re really staying just because of that?” she asks, fiddling with her own soda in her hand.
“Yeah,” I say. “Figured someone’s gotta spike the punch and pretend they didn’t.”
She lets out a quiet laugh, that soft little exhale she does when she tries not to laugh but fails. Then she smiles up at me, like she’s happy that I’m staying. Her eyes are crinkling, light catching in her lashes, her shoulder brushing mine.
And then…
That’s when it happens.
The inevitable realization.
It’s clear to me now. I’m not staying for the punch. I’m not staying for the theme or the cheesy photo booth or even the fact that I never went to my own prom.
I’m staying because of Katie.
I’m staying because she looks at me like that. Like I’m someone good, someone funny, someone safe. And it makes me forget about the headlines and the missed calls and the career on pause.
I’m staying because everything about her makes me want to stop running. Makes me feel like I’m somebody outside the life curated for me.
But even if I admit that to myself, even if I let the feeling take shape, I know how this ends. She wants a life that’s rooted. She wants family dinners and annual traditions and a future she can map out. She likes pets and small town bakeries and quiet places to scream to the void.
And sure, she told me once there’s a part of her that wonders what else is out there.
That maybe, if things were different, she’d take a risk.
Explore. Try something unexpected. But that something isn’t following a guy like me from city to city just because I have to be there.
It’s not waking up in hotel rooms or FaceTiming through time zones.
That’s not a compromise I’m gonna ask her to take.
Kate’s the kind of person who gives too much when she loves someone. I know that already. And I’ve seen too many people ask for too much from her. I won’t be one of them. I won't be the reason she starts editing herself down just to make room for me.
So I make peace with what this is. With this feeling.
I’ve never wanted anything I couldn’t have.
Never found someone I wanted to uproot my life for.
Never like this. Never like her. She’s so close I can see the faint freckles under her eyes, and yet she’s already slipping into a future I know I can’t follow.
And that’s on me. Because I don’t know who I’ll be when I return, and until I figure that out, I’m not gonna ask her to wait for me.
She laughs at something Richard says, her nose crinkling the way it always does when she’s caught off-guard. And I just sit there. Watching her.
If this is all I ever get—just these days in between, these passing moments where she leans a little closer, looks a little longer—I’ll take them. Every small, quiet, unrepeatable second. I’ll stay just a little longer.
Oh, and yeah.
I’m definitely screwed.