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

  God, he shouldn’t be this nice when he looked like that, like he stole the attention from his band’s lead singer during every gig and got panties hurled in his face.

  She almost couldn’t believe this was the Hunter she had known her whole life, the one she always thought she would end up with one way or another.

  Then, she thought of Lance, how he’d never be caught dead sitting in a convenience store. She shook her head, willing the mental image of him sipping a Slurpee away.

  When they were about to cross the street, Hunter grabbed her arm and guided her to the other side. The gesture was simple, something a gentleman would do for any girl, but she couldn’t help but hide the grin that took over her face.

  Melissa pushed open the rusty, red gate when they got to her house, ushered Hunter into the living room, and rushed to find her mother to tell her they had a visitor. Her mother beat her to it. When she returned to the living room, she found her mother pleasantly talking to Hunter, a plate of cookies and two glasses of iced tea already on the coffee table as if by magic.

  “Hunter here was telling me about his sister Tessa’s ballet recital,” her mother said, mischief in her eyes as her gaze drifted from her to Hunter and back.

  “I hope it’s okay that I invited him over,” she said.

  “Of course, Mel,” her mother replied. “Hunter’s welcome anytime.” With that said, she stood up from her perch beside him on the couch. “Anyway, I have to get back to the garden. My flowers won’t water themselves.”

  “Thanks, Ma,” Melissa whispered as she walked by.

  When she and Hunter were left alone in the living room, she beamed at him and pointed at the stairs. “I’m gonna go get my ukulele.”

  She dashed up the stairs and grabbed her ukulele, thoughts firing off here and there in her brain the whole time. Hunter was here. In her house. She almost couldn't believe it. Ukulele in hand, she walked down the stairs.

  Hunter was where she left him. He sat on the couch and chewed on a cookie.

  "These are really good," he said upon catching sight of her.

  "Baking is Mama's superpower." She sat beside him on the couch, making sure to leave some space between them to avoid making things awkward.

  He washed down the cookie with a gulp of iced tea. "I agree. So, are you ready to start our lesson?"

  She nodded.

  They started with four of the easiest and most common chords. That was one of the great things about the ukulele. Once you knew a few simple chords and how to find the right beat, you could already play hundreds of songs.

  "You place this finger here and this one over here." She guided his fingers along the strings.

  Hunter was a fast learner. It didn't take long for him to learn how to play “I'm Yours” by Jason Mraz, the first song she ever learned mostly because it was one of the easiest.

  "You're a natural at this," she said with a little laugh once he could play the entire song without her help.

  He grinned. "That's because you're a good teacher. I could teach you how to play the drums as payment for this lesson."

  This was what the start of something was supposed to be like, easy and effortless.

  Not crazy and intense, which was the way she felt every time Lance was in a one-mile radius.

  Why was she even thinking about him anyway? Hunter was right here, smiling down at her like she was the most perfect thing he had ever seen.

  "I can't imagine myself playing the drums." She watched him strum a few more chords on the ukulele.

  "I can." Hunter squinted at her and framed her face using his hands. The dimple in his left cheek appeared. "You'd look pretty cute. If you're not convinced yet and want to see someone playing the drums live, we have a gig on Friday night."

  That was almost too smooth.

  Before she could stop herself, she wondered if other girls had been offered the same drum lessons before. A scowl marred her face. Hunter wasn't Lance. In fact, no two boys could be further apart.

  But then, she thought of the dress hanging in her closet again, the gifting of it so unlike Lance that it made her question everything.

  "Mel?" Hunter's voice brought her back to the present, to the couch where he was waiting to hear her answer.

  She tried for a smile. "Sure. I'd love to hear you play."

  After Hunter left, Melissa sat on the couch fiddling with her ukulele. She usually loved the tiny sound it made, like it was happy all the time, but something was off today. She didn't know what exactly, but she was going to find out soon enough.

  Chapter Nine

  Friday nights were for getting drunk with friends at Smallville, the city’s nightlife hub, and for meeting new people. Female type of people. This Friday night in particular, Lance was going to forget about having to return to school bright and early the next day. For the next few hours, he was going to have fun.

  In fact, he was determined to have more fun than usual.

  Streetlights washed over him as he drove through Iloilo City’s streets. His hometown wasn’t as exciting as Manila. It straddled the divide between a big city and a small town. Tall buildings rose up around him, but at the same time, he was two degrees away from knowing every other person in the city. He couldn’t imagine another place like it.

  He was lucky enough to find a parking space right outside the bar he and his teammates usually frequented on nights like this. It was only 10 P.M., but the place was packed. Even the tables outside were full of people, and waiters breezed by him in a hurry to deliver drink orders. He ducked around one and pushed the glass doors open. As he walked inside, Jace and their other friends were already seated on a table along with a few girls he didn’t know. Not yet anyway.

  “Finally.” David, one of their teammates, stood up and grabbed a chair from a vacant table for him to sit on.

  “I know you pathetic people have been waiting for me this whole time,” Lance said as he high-fived his way across the table. He spread his arms to indicate the expanse of the rowdy bar. “How you could you possibly enjoy yourselves without me?”

  “You are so full of shit.” Jace waved for him to sit down.

  Deliberately, he grabbed the chair David had gotten for him and dragged it next to a pretty girl who’d been eyeing him since the second he walked in. Lance didn’t know how to deal with Melissa’s outright contempt, but this, obvious admiration, he knew how to handle. This, he was used to.

  “I don’t think we’ve met before.” He grinned at her.

  In his head, he counted down the seconds until a blush spread through her cheeks. One, two, three. There it was.

  The girl—he didn’t know her name yet—did not disappoint, her cheeks turning red as she swiveled in her chair to face him. Her hair was a mass of corkscrew curls, and he found it quite cute. A butterfly pendant rested on the hollow beneath her throat.

  “I’m Jess,” she said. “David’s cousin.”

  Lance pressed a hand to his chest, pretending to be surprised. “Well, it’s a good thing the two of you look nothing alike.”

  She laughed, like it was the funniest thing she ever heard. Lance was surprised at the relief that surged through him. Before he decided to bug the hell out of Melissa, he had never doubted his ability to make a girl laugh. Aside from his pretty face and rock-hard abs, it was his best quality.

  But he’d started to doubt it.

  All because the principal’s daughter’s mouth pulled down at the corners every time she laid eyes on him.

  Huh.

  He shook the thought away. There was no space for Melissa Ortiz in his mind, especially not tonight. His eyes refocused on Jess, and he listened to her talk about her school and friends.

  The whole time she spoke, her eyes twinkled down at him, the slight flush never leaving her cheeks. He let his eyes roam over her pretty face, waiting for the same excitement at meeting someone new to spread through him. It didn’t come.

  He waited some more, but it still wasn’t there. The cackling
electricity. The buzz the moment before he asked for her number. None of it decided to make an appearance.

  It wasn’t Jess. She was gorgeous and beyond nice, judging by how she was pretending he wasn’t zoning out of their conversation. He could see himself going out to get ice cream cake with her at that place in Plazuela. No, he was the problem.

  When the live band went up the stage to set up their instruments and served as a distraction, they were both relieved. He was too lost in his own thoughts to pay attention to whatever she was saying, and she wasn’t rude enough to point it out.

  “Hey, the band members are our age,” Jess said, sounding a little too excited.

  Lance’s eyes flicked to the stage, examining every boy on it. She was right. The last time he’d been here, the band’s combined age could’ve been around 200, but this time, the band members were indeed about his age. Give or take one or two years.

  The male lead singer who was almost prettier than all the girls in the bar. The bassist who obviously spent more time in the gym than he did, judging by the guy’s bulging biceps. The guitarist who looked more altar boy than rocker boy.

  And the drummer.

  Jesus H. Christ, he had seen the drummer before with his fauxhawk and showy band shirts. Online. It was Hunter, the guy who kept liking and commenting on Melissa’s posts. Every damn time she shared a ukulele cover on her profile, he was right there bragging about how much he liked the song, too. As if to rub in that they had a ton of things in common.

  Before he could stop himself, Lance pushed back his chair and stood up, his gaze darting around the bar looking for someone he didn’t want to find. Melissa couldn’t be here, could she? God forbid the principal would allow such a thing, but maybe the man made exceptions for specific people, ones he trusted like he would never trust Lance.

  His eyes stopped at the only person who was dressed in bright colors amidst the crowd. Melissa sat on a table with Cam, a drink in front of her.

  Without even taking a good look at it, he was pretty sure it was a Shirley Temple. Not a margarita or a rum coke. It could be nothing but a Shirley Temple. He didn’t know how or why, but he was sure of it.

  She was beautiful tonight in the floral dress that was meant for Sunday mornings, not Friday nights. He watched her wave at Hunter who stood behind his drum kit onstage. The stupid rocker boy waved back, smiles spreading across their faces.

  As paralyzing pain spread through his chest, the realization slammed down on him harder than Thor’s hammer.

  Images flashed in his mind. That fateful day during the beginning of the school year when he noticed the Big Dipper moles on the back of her neck. Melissa’s outraged face after she discovered he stuffed a cockroach in her backpack. Him eavesdropping on her father’s epic lecture after they both got sent to the principal’s office.

  Lance had somehow fallen for Melissa Ortiz.

  He really liked her. More than he’d ever liked any girl. Maybe more than he’d ever like anyone.

  Holy shit.

  ***

  Melissa’s father had allowed her to go to a place where alcohol was served provided she didn’t consume any of it. He also laid down a few ground rules.

  First of all, absolutely no drinking.

  Second, she had to stick to Cam at all times.

  Next, no boys, which meant no touching Hunter, which she was surprisingly okay with. Things hadn’t been the same between them after their one and only ukulele lesson.

  She followed all of her father’s rules to the letter. That, however, did not stop him from calling her in the middle of Hunter’s band’s first set. Up on the stage, Hunter’s drumsticks were a blur, veins sticking out on his neck and sweat seeping through his T-shirt.

  Obviously, her father didn’t need to know that. She stood up and tapped Cam whose eyes were glued to the stage on the shoulder. “I have to take this.”

  Cam ripped her eyes away from the stage. “Your father?”

  “Yeah, you know how he is.”

  “Say hello for me,” Cam said, taking a sip of her drink.

  As she walked out of the bar, Melissa couldn’t help the sense of relief that began to take over. She felt horribly out of place inside, like the worst kind of imposter. What had possessed her to think wearing a pink floral dress to a bar at night was a good idea? She was clueless. She didn’t know it before, but now, the fact had slapped her on the face.

  Phone in hand, she headed toward the parking lot and away from the noise. Gravel crunched under her white sandals.

  “Pa?” she said after swiping her thumb across the screen to answer the call.

  “I was waiting for your text update, Mel,” her father replied, his voice stern and unyielding. Clearly, he was in principal mode tonight.

  Melissa pulled the phone away from her face so he wouldn’t hear her sigh. She’d told him she would think about the hourly text updates, but she hadn’t agreed to them. Not in so many words anyway.

  “I’m sorry,” she started, pinching her nose between two fingers, “I was having fun…”

  …if I’m even allowed to do that.

  “Has Hunter been treating you well?” he pressed, letting her sarcasm go for once.

  “He’s great.” And she meant it.

  “You know I only agreed to this, because I know him so well,” her father continued, like she had nothing else to do but listen to him go on and on. “Despite his extracurricular activities, he’s still one of the top students at his school. That boy knows how to manage his time, something you could learn from.”

  Melissa barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. If she were being honest with herself, she sometimes wished Hunter didn’t have her father’s approval. It was difficult to earn, but his having it made her feel like her father still had this hold over her choices.

  Like she liked Hunter because her father approved of him.

  That couldn’t be further from the truth.

  Could it?

  When her father stopped speaking to take a deep breath, she seized the opportunity by the throat. “Listen, Pa, I really have to get back inside. I’ll text you within the hour, okay? Byeeeee.”

  She hung up and, victorious grin in place, turned around.

  Lance stood a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans. He looked like she’d handed him a Physics quiz, and he had no idea where to even start. Eyes still on her, he rubbed a hand against the back of his neck.

  Silence rose up between them, awkward and far-reaching. What was she going to say to him? After telling him to keep his distance and receiving that dress, she had no idea how to proceed.

  She decided to be polite and said, “Thanks for the dress, Lance.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said, his eyes locked on her.

  She knew she should leave and walk past him, but her feet stayed rooted to the spot. He looked different tonight. Older. Under the dim lights of the parking lot, the scar on his eyebrow stood out in stark contrast against the rest of his face.

  And then, he moved, taking long strides until their feet were almost touching. Her brain scrambled for a response, and she found herself taking a step back. He matched each step of hers with his own until she was backed against the bumper of a car, the license plate digging into the backs of her thighs.

  “What are you doing?” she said, her voice a little breathy. She couldn’t help it. He placed both hands on the car on either side of her, caging her in. They were too close and not close enough at the same time. It was more than enough to make anyone a little breathy.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. She almost laughed in his face. For the first time since she met him, Lance Ordonez was speechless. It was nothing short of a miracle.

  When he spoke, though, it was her turn to become utterly speechless.

  “You hate me.” Wonder filled his voice. “Every time you see my face in class, you feel the need to punch me. You’re not pretending. Not even a little bit.”

  This
time, she did laugh in his face. She pushed against his shoulder, but her hand ended up curled around it instead. As if she needed to hold on to something. “Why do you sound so surprised? We both knew that already.”

  He looked away, and he laughed in a way that said he didn’t find things funny at all. “Well, I’m about to tell you something we both didn’t know.”

  “What?” She couldn’t help but ask.

  When his eyes flicked back to her, Melissa gulped. The way he was staring down at her, like he was afraid she’d vanish in a puff of smoke, made her blush. She cursed herself for it.

  “I… I think I like you,” Lance said, sounding like he didn’t even believe it himself. “Even if I know you’d laugh before helping me if I ever tripped. Even after you superglued me to my chair.” He brushed a hand over his face, laughing through his fingers. “Well, shit, I guess that means I must like you a lot.”

  Wait. What?

  She wasn’t dumb. She had sensed that he was interested in her, but he sounded like actual feelings were involved. And he sounded so surprised by them that she didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.

  She raked her eyes over his face. She had seen him almost every day at school, but this was the first time that she really saw him.

  The way his biceps bunched under the sleeves of his T-shirt. And the way he sucked in his lower lip when he was about to kiss someone.

  Because that was what he was about to do.

  He was going to kiss her.

  Her limbs turned to liquid as he leaned down, and she wondered if all her body parts were still in place. Probably not.

  Before their lips could meet, though, she pushed against him and slid under his arm. The parking lot seemed to shrink in the seconds that followed as she tried to put as much distance between them as possible.

  He couldn’t be serious. Never.

  Hands shaking, she stuffed her phone inside her purse and faced him, attempting to muster as much dignity as possible. “You must be drunk.”

  “I’m stone cold sober,” he said, staring down at the space where she’d been only moments before.