Page 81 of Between Love and War
And I don’t regret it one bit.
Something is definitely wrong with me today. I should be thinking about my next game or the mess with my sponsors and my image. Anything else, really. But all I want is to recklessly ask her to hang out with me without the crowd later.
But I know better, of course. Especially when it comes to Kate. Boundaries with her aren’t as simple as lines that youeventually blur, they’re fences and walls that you carefully climb until you’re given permission to see the other side.
I know that if I push anything, I’ll ruin this beautiful day we’ve been having so far.
The rest of the day flows naturally. It’s a chill day, and everyone is just grilling, singing, and playing games. Some are huddled in smaller groups, and I just float my way into all of them.Wherever I’m welcome.
All day, I keep waiting for a moment when Kate’s alone so I can walk over, make some dumb comment about how the cold air is turning her cheeks pink. But it never comes. She’s always surrounded: someone’s kid tugging on her sleeve, Lola holding her hand mid-story, a cousin pulling her toward another table.
She’s moving constantly. Nodding, smiling, laughing when she needs to.
And I can’t help wondering if she’s actually okay with all that.
I’m currently with Kate’s lolo, sitting on the wooden bench just outside the house, plates balanced on our laps, the muffled sound of karaoke leaking out from the windows. The air is cool in that Tagaytay way—damp and pine-scented.
Her lolo is very old. Nineties, maybe. Skin like paper but eyes that still catch everything.
“She’s very pretty, isn’t she?” he says, chewing slowly. “She’s my kindest grandchild.”
I smile, not even bothering to deny it. Anyone with eyes could tell I’ve been staring at her. “Yeah. She is.”
“I’ve always told her,” he continues, “not to be too kind. She will be taken for granted. She will get hurt. And maybe that’s why she never had someone to introduce to us. Always so guarded, our Katherine. It’s only in our little gatherings that she lets it all down.”
He pats my knee with a hand that feels lighter than it should. “But here you are.”
I blink. “Here I am,” I echo.
“I don’t care if you’re a national athlete,” he says matter-of-factly. “Or the president of the country. All I care about is how our Kate is treated. She’s too nice to notice anything bad for her.”
I don’t respond right away. I just look toward the house.
Through the window, Kate is mid-laugh, her head tipped back. She’s glowing. From the fairy lights above her, or the warmth of the room, or just who she is, I don’t know.
Lolo’s right. She doesn’t look guarded at all.
But the longer I watch her—the practiced smile, the way she leans in and listens, the way she gives everyone exactly what they need from her—the more I start to wonder if this is the guard. The cheerfulness. The kindness.
The softness.
And then my mind flips through every moment she’s been mean to me. All the eye rolls, the muttered insults, the way she teases me like it’s instinct. Those tiny flashes where her voice sharpens, where the sweetness cracks and something real slips out.
Those are the only moments I’ve seen her actually unguarded.
And somehow, I’m glad I’m the one who gets to see it.
When the night dials down, everyone settles down in their respective rooms, but I stay outside. I’m wearing a hoodie over my shirt, because Tagaytay at night is oddly cold. I can see the Taal volcano and the lake from here, but it’s dark, and I can only make out silhouettes. For a moment, I just stand there, staring into the blank space, like I always do when I’m left alone.
I wonder where I’d be right now if I hadn’t pushed that ref? Would I have met Kate? Probably. I would’ve seen her when I visited Polly. But that would be it. I probably wouldn’t know her well enough to know she bakes good cookies and has a cat named Siopao because her mind is weirdly beautiful.
I chuckle to myself as I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around and see Kate, her hair ruffled like she tossed and turned in bed but couldn’t sleep. Her glasses are foggy from the cool air.
She stops short when she sees me.
“Oh,” she says. “You’re here.”
I raise an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. “Technically, so are you.”
