Keeping the Distance (I Heart Iloilo Book 1) Read online

  Was he going to keep his distance from her once and for all?

  The promise itself was a double-edged sword, but she didn’t want to know why just yet.

  When she went downstairs, the smell of freshly baked banana chocolate muffins welcomed her. She followed the smell to the kitchen and found her mother taking out a second tray of the delicious muffins out of the oven. The first tray lay on the counter, ready to be ravished.

  Her mother always knew how to make her feel better through baked goods. Her father, on the other hand, was probably in his office, thinking of more ways to make a typical teenager’s life even more miserable.

  No, she almost shook her head. She wasn’t going to think those thoughts about her father. It was unkind and disrespectful.

  “Good morning.” Her mother shook off a floral mitten, picked up a muffin, and offered it to her. The requisite smile was already in place.

  “Good morning, Ma.” Melissa pulled up one of the tall stools lining the counter and took a seat. She grabbed the proffered muffin, twirling it between her hands.

  “Are you ready for today?” her mother asked with a look that said she better be but was comforting at the same time, the perfect example of tough love.

  “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  Melissa told herself for the thousandth time that it was unfair to resent her father for her weekend detention. In her heart of hearts, she knew it was her fault, but their conversation, the once Lance overheard to her utter horror, was completely unnecessary.

  “You know your father only cares about you.” The words broke the slowly thickening silence between them.

  Melissa sighed and bit down on the muffin. “Sometimes, he cares a little too much.”

  “He couldn’t look the other way when you got kicked out of class twice. And with a boy who has a reputation as a troublemaker. You can’t blame him, can you?” Their fingers met and intertwined on the counter, her mother holding on to her tightly. She squeezed a little. “But I’ll talk to him, okay? Ask him to lighten up. You don’t deserve to be punished both at school and at home, because you’re the principal’s daughter.”

  “You’re the best, Ma.” Melissa squealed, pulling her hand out of her mother’s grasp. She jumped off the stool to give her mother a gigantic hug. With their arms around each other, she inhaled, letting the familiar flowery perfume envelop her. “What would Papa and I do without you?”

  “I shudder to think what would happen if I left you two alone even for a little while.” Her mother smiled, hugging her back. “The house would fall apart, and World War III would possibly start.”

  “Truer words have never been spoken.”

  She had the best mother, didn’t she? She wasn’t spoiled, just loved beyond belief.

  After scarfing down three banana chocolate muffins, pancakes with maple syrup, and a giant glass of milk, Melissa ran up the stairs to get ready for weekend detention. After taking a shower, she stood in front of her closet.

  Having no idea what a person wore to paint a classroom, she decided to dress like a girly version of the painters she saw on TV in short overalls, a mint green T-shirt with ice cream cones printed all over the white sleeves, and white Converse sneakers. Afterwards, she weaved her hair into a messy fishtail braid and pulled it over one shoulder.

  To her surprise, her father sat in their Honda Civic waiting for her, keys attached to an I Love Cebu keychain already in the ignition. “Come on, Mel. I’m giving you a ride to school.”

  Wordlessly, she slipped into the passenger’s seat and buckled her seat belt. Determined not to speak to him unless absolutely necessary, she pulled her phone out of the pocket of her overalls and put on her earphones. He might’ve done the things he did because he cared about her, but that didn’t mean she was no longer angry with him.

  He got the message. They drove in silence, the car swiftly maneuvering through the streets of Iloilo City. She stared out the window as they passed plazas full of sweaty boys playing basketball and old houses that used to be grand a long time ago. Everything and everyone was laidback with a shy vibe of energy underneath.

  The car finally slowed to a stop outside Saint Agnes Catholic Academy. Not a word had passed between them during the entire twenty-minute ride.

  “Mel?” He watched her unbuckle her seat belt.

  “Yes, Pa?”

  He cleared his throat, holding on and letting go of the steering wheel as if he didn’t quite know what to do. “Let me know if you need a ride home later.”

  There was no way she was asking her father to pick her up after he repeatedly expressed his disappointment in her, but she nodded anyway to avoid prolonging the conversation. She jumped out of the car and headed for the school gates, the sun beating down on her and making her wish she had a pair of sunglasses on.

  Lance apparently felt the heat as well, a pair of aviators perched on his annoyingly perfect nose. Dressed simply in a red V-neck t-shirt, jeans, and black sneakers, he still looked gorgeous enough to push popular boy band members off the cover of a teen magazine. He stood by the doorway of the classroom, hands in his pockets.

  Seeing her, he opened his mouth to speak, another pickup line ready to burst forth, but it was as if he suddenly remembered their conversation in the hallway, the one where he agreed that, yes, he would keep his distance. Once and for all. His jaw clenched.

  She stood before him, wondering what to say or if she should say anything at all. Her fingers itched to reach out and remove his sunglasses from his face, figure out what was going on behind the lenses.

  Lance didn’t say anything, either. He merely stepped back so she could walk through the door and followed her.

  Mr. Chua, the burly school custodian and all-around repairman, already stood inside. Shelves full of colorful textbooks lined one side of the room, and crayon drawings covered the walls. Unopened cans of paint littered the floor along with old newspapers stacked in a corner, crease marks all over them.

  “Ready to get started, kids?” Mr. Chua said.

  They both nodded.

  “Any of you done a little painting before?” he prodded.

  To her surprise, Lance raised a hand. “I did.”

  She barely stopped herself from gawking at him. Lean, insanely good-looking, co-captain of the basketball team, and able to charm every female he ever came in contact with.

  That was Lance.

  So, when did he ever get the chance to paint walls?

  Watching him place his sunglasses inside his backpack, she realized that she had known him since they were seven, but she didn’t really know him. He walked over to the shelves and with Mr. Chua’s help, started hauling them out of the room.

  It was indeed time for another paint job, the old paint starting to fade and crayon marks all over the walls. Once the room was free of chairs and desks, the walls clear of drawings and posters, they began spreading newspapers all over the floor by the walls to catch any stray drops of paint. When that was done, she stood in the corner, arms crossed over chest, with Mr. Chua by her side. Lance pried the cans of paint open and generally got everything ready, biceps bulging under the sleeves of his thin T-shirt.

  She gulped. Now was not the time to start ogling him like he was the last available slice of her favorite mango ice cream cake. In fact, there was never going to be a right time to do that.

  “We can start,” Lance said, the first words he spoke to her that day. Well, not really. They were spoken at her, his eyes focused on a spot on the wall over her shoulder.

  Melissa didn’t respond, mostly because she had no idea what to say. After asking someone to stay the hell away from you, how were you supposed to interact with them like a normal person?

  It was mind-boggling.

  She stayed in place and watched him pick up a brush. Brush in hand, Lance surveyed the room, settled on the left wall, and got to work. Seeing that he had chosen a spot, she chose the wall on the right side of the room, dragged a can of paint over to it, grab
bed a brush, and started painting.

  Mr. Chua took a seat on one of the tiny chairs meant for little kids, completely dwarfing it. He pulled out his phone. The explosive sounds of a game soon began to stream from it.

  Melissa tried to concentrate on her work and make it look as neat as possible. She really did, but sometimes out of the corner of her eye, she couldn’t help but sneak glances at Lance. To her surprise, he seemed to be an efficient worker and painted the wall with neat, even strokes.

  He was determined to keep his attention on his work, and for the first time in her life, Melissa wanted to speak to Lance Ordonez.

  Willingly.

  Without some perfectly logical reason in place, like borrowing a calculator.

  She squashed that urge and concentrated on painting the stupid wall. By hook or by crook, her work had to look better than his. Soon, the calming motion of moving a brush across the wall began to soothe her, and she began to forget about Lance, her father, and all the confusing and painful feelings she associated with both of them.

  She got so lost in the motions that she almost jumped out of her skin when a hip hop song suddenly started playing. Behind her, Lance had set up a mini-sound system in one corner using his phone and a Bluetooth speaker, not caring at all what his companion’s preference in music might be.

  At first, she thought this was another of his attempts to annoy her and almost glared at him. When he didn’t even look in her direction and started painting again, she realized she was wrong. Apparently, his days being a pain in her butt were over.

  Somehow, the gratitude she was supposed to feel decided to take a vacation on some faraway island.

  Before she knew it, two hours had already passed. Mr. Chua stood up from his chair and clapped his hands together. “That’s enough for today, kids. You can both go home if you want.”

  Lance breathed a huge sigh of relief, smiling at Mr. Chua and even saluting him. He started putting the painting materials away. Melissa couldn’t help but stare at him, at the hands that were suddenly so capable and strong. She didn’t know who this Lance before her was, didn’t want to know and was wild with curiosity at the same time. He always did this to her.

  Not knowing a thing about painting or what to do after, Melissa observed him and mirrored his movements. When everything had been put in place and they could finally leave, she busied herself with the backpack she had placed in one corner of the room earlier, away from all the painting being done. She wanted to avoid any awkward goodbyes.

  Or maybe she didn’t want to give him a chance to ignore her again?

  She wasn’t sure which one.

  Melissa breathed her own sigh of relief when she heard his sneakered footsteps walk out of the classroom. It was only then that she noticed the paper bag from a local boutique next to her backpack. Her heart suddenly began to imitate a sledgehammer, and she opened the paper bag to see what was inside, her palms beginning to sweat.

  It was a sleeveless lavender dress with fluffy clouds printed all over it.

  It was also the most perfect dress in existence, the kind of thing she never knew she wanted.

  I suck at apologies. Lance, said the note that came with the dress.

  Melissa told herself, that she was still never going to be one of the girls who swooned at the sight of Lance’s heart-stopping smile, at the way he sometimes carelessly ran his hands through his hair. No, she was never going to fall for any of that, not even this dress was going to make her think he was something other than trouble.

  Meanwhile, she blamed her wild, uncontrollable heartbeat on the paint fumes.

  Chapter Eight

  Lance spent a few hours picking out the dumb dress for Melissa, hoping she’d accept his apology once and for all. He risked Jace’s mockery when he told his best friend he couldn’t hang out on a Saturday afternoon, so he could have enough time to pick it out.

  By himself.

  He’d taken things one step further by asking Julianne for help and enduring her never-ending mockery over the phone.

  “You’re picking out a… dress? As an apology to a girl who hates your guts?” Julianne had managed to wheeze out between bursts of laughter. Despite her teasing, his sister was into that artsy pastel crap, and he trusted her taste.

  He ended up spending an entire afternoon jumping from store to store, taking photos of dresses and sending them to Julianne for approval. When he found the lavender dress with the white clouds on it, he knew that he shouldn’t have bothered asking her for help. The dress was perfect for Melissa. A little whimsical, in a pastel shade he’d seen her wear before, and moreover, he wanted to see her in it.

  His giving her the dress did have ulterior motives. Sue him.

  But now, he’d given it to her as his second apology. That was it. They could move on and forget about how he overheard how much pressure her father put on her.

  Lance liked things easy.

  Simple.

  Uncomplicated.

  He didn’t need to hang around Melissa and help her carry all that parental baggage. No thanks.

  So, it was strange that his eyes darted around the cafeteria in search of her as he sat on a table with his friends. He could vaguely feel Jace kicking him under the table, urging him to pay attention as one of their teammates droned on and on about another player from a rival school. Lance returned Jace’s kick to indicate he was paying attention. The truth was, he was anything but.

  When he found her, he couldn’t help sitting up a little straighter. Melissa sat three tables away with Cam and a few other girls from their class. Her hair was in another fancy braid again, pulled over one shoulder. He watched her take a sip of her soda, grinning around the straw when one of her friends said something funny.

  He was funny.

  He could make her laugh like that.

  Or not.

  “Don’t you agree, Lance?” Jace said all of a sudden, forcing him to look away.

  Lance grinned at Jace who was currently giving him a suspicious look with his lips pursed into a thin line. He flashed two thumbs up, pretending to know what they’d been talking about, and said, “I’m going to go get some water.”

  “You do that,” he heard Jace grumble under his breath.

  As he stood in line near the water dispenser, he found himself standing behind Lyka, class salutatorian a.k.a. the girl he dumped via inserting a breakup note in the notebook he borrowed from her.

  Even he had to admit that wasn’t his best moment. Which was why it was a total surprise when Lyka turned around, flipping her long hair over one shoulder, and smiled at him, like they hadn’t seen each other in years. She was still as pretty as ever, beautiful in that overly obvious he liked. Big eyes with thick lashes, flawless skin, and a mouth that made his imagination run wild.

  “Hey, Lance,” she said, reaching out to grab his arm and giving it a little squeeze.

  “Lyka.” Lance stared down at the place where her hand was still wrapped around his arm. She had pretty fingernails painted baby pink. He still felt like a jerk around her, so he couldn’t help but step back.

  Lyka laughed, a light tinkling sound. “Still worried about the note? Don’t worry. I forgive you.”

  He tried to return her smile, but his attempt at humor came out looking sheepish instead. “I don’t think I ever apologized to you about that.”

  “I forgive you for that, too.” She let his arm go and pushed him lightly on the shoulder. “You know, I think you hurt my pride more than my feelings. You were the first guy that ever dumped me. I’m thinking I have to return the favor.”

  “We’ll see,” was all Lance said.

  His mind whirred with a thousand thoughts as his ex-girlfriend walked away. What was he thinking when he asked Melissa Ortiz out? He could be—needed to be—with someone like Lyka. He was sure they were on the same page, and best of all?

  Being with someone like Lyka was easy. No fathers he had to tiptoe around, no drummer boys who had a lifelong history with her. It
was a lesson he surely wasn’t going to forget anytime soon.

  ***

  Every time Melissa opened her closet, the dress stared out at her like a warning. It was as if it was begging her to slip it over her head, feel its folds against her skin, and check her reflection in the mirror that hung behind her door.

  It was haunting her.

  She had to get out of the house.

  After telling her mother where she was going, Melissa’s feet dragged her to the local 7-Eleven of their own accord. As usual, she bought a cola Slurpee, a larger one this time, and a tiny pack of cheese-flavored Ruffles. Sitting down on one of the tables by the glass wall, she watched the cars go by, mud splashing against their tires.

  The day was downcast with gray clouds lining the sky, a sure sign of rain. She almost cursed herself for not bringing an umbrella with her, but at the same time, she liked that the temperature wasn’t as hot as usual. It was a welcome change.

  “Can I join you?”

  She looked up and found Hunter smiling at her. Today, he was more dressed up than the last time she’d seen him in one of his band T-shirts, dark jeans, and black Converse sneakers, like he’d been somewhere and only stopped by on his way home. Hemp and leather bracelets circled his wrist.

  Her ability to speak took its sweet time to return to her. She smiled back. “Sure.”

  “You know, you still owe me a ukulele lesson,” Hunter reminded her as he took the seat in front of her. Without taking his eyes off her, he placed his purchases on the table before them, sour cream Ruffles and a large cup of Pepsi.

  “I’ve been busy,” she answered, which was the understatement of the year considering her ton of homework and weekend detention. She saw disappointment flare in his eyes, and she became a tiny bit braver. “But if you have time now, maybe you can come over and I can teach you?”

  “Sure.” The widening of Hunter’s smile lit up his entire face.