Between Then and Now

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ryan

I know how to kiss, of course I do. I don’t need any lessons on how to kiss a girl. But why did I dodge Alexa’s attempt earlier today and then bring myself, voluntarily, to this situation with Bonbon? I don’t know why I suggested that we practice kissing. Who even does that? What am I, twelve?

But when I was sitting beside her, and I saw her look up at me when I asked her the question I asked Alexa, the only thing I thought about was how different they were. And how Bon is so comforting to talk to. And I also thought about how pink her lips were. It was like everything else faded away, and all I could focus on was her mouth, slightly parted in surprise, and the way her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she considered my ridiculous request.

She looks up, her fountain ponytail bobbing with every movement. Her eyes are locked in mine, and I lean closer, our noses almost touching but our lips still a few inches apart.

I should back away now. We only agreed to practice the kiss build-up. And it’s already built. Oh, it’s built perfectly.

She doesn’t move, though, so I linger a little in this moment, taking it all in. She smells like citrus and lavender and butter from the popcorn. Her skin is soft, like marshmallows and velvet combined. I notice the gentle rise and fall of her breath, the slight tension in her shoulders.

I move my right hand from her cheek to her neck and place my left one against her lower back to pull her even closer. Why? I have no idea .

Bon closes her eyes, and I wish I could say that I pulled away. That I backed away. Or even that I stayed put. But I don’t. I do the exact opposite of every rational option.

I close the gap between us.

That’s fine, I’ll just pull away. Just one second. A peck. But as our lips brush against each other, something shifts. The initial contact is delicate—barely there—but it’s enough to send a jolt through me. Her lips are warm and surprisingly gentle, like the first sip of a comforting drink on a cold day. I expected a quick peck, something fleeting and easy to dismiss.

But instead of moving away, we sink deeper into the kiss. My lips part, and hers follow. Bon moves her hands from her sides to the back of my neck. She pulls me closer, and I let her. I can feel her fingers brushing my hair, and I involuntarily make a soft grunting sound. It's as if that sound pulls Bon back to reality because she suddenly looks down, leaving my lips to press against her forehead instead.

We stay like that for a moment, frozen in the awkwardness of the situation. Her forehead against my lips, her hands still on the back of my neck, and my heart pounding so loudly I’m sure she can hear it. I can feel the heat radiating from her skin, her quick little breaths. I can’t help but wonder if she feels as disoriented as I do.

Bon slowly pulls back, her hands slipping from my neck and falling to her sides. She looks up at me, her cheeks flushed.

I step back slightly, giving us both space to breathe. My heart is still pounding, and I can tell by the look in her eyes that she’s feeling something too. She’s searching my face, probably trying to read my thoughts just as I’m trying to read hers.

“That was great. You were great. No problems there,” she says each word so fast I barely understand them .

I nod, swallowing hard, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, uh, thanks. You too.”

She laughs, a shaky, nervous sound that only adds to the tension. “Well, now that we’ve got that out of the way, you should be all set for your next date.” She pats my arm in awkward reassurance.

Are we just going to ignore the fact that we made out?

“Yeah,” I agree, though my mind is still reeling from what just happened. “All set.”

She steps back further, putting a bit more space between us, and I can’t help but feel a pang of loss from the distance. Her eyes flick to the laptop, still paused on the horror movie, and she seizes the distraction like a lifeline.

“Right, the movie,” she says, a bit too brightly. “Let’s get back to it.” She makes her way back to the bed and plays the movie. It’s supposed to be a scary movie meant to distract me, but nothing is scarier than the thoughts going through my head right now.

We sit back down, a few inches of space between us that feels like miles. The movie resumes, but I can’t focus. And I’m sure she can’t either. I can’t be the only one thinking about that kiss, the way her lips felt against mine, the way she pulled me closer. It’s like a tape on loop, replaying over and over in my mind.

I glance at Bon out of the corner of my eye. She's staring intently at the screen, but her fidgeting fingers betray her. I wonder what she's thinking, if she’s as thrown off balance as I am.

“Bonbon,” I say quietly, not sure what I’m going to follow it up with. All I know is I need to see those eyes again. She turns to look at me, and for a second, the room falls away. It’s just us, suspended in this strange, charged moment.

“Yeah?” she responds, her voice softer now, the bravado from earlier gone.

“Thank you,” I say, the words feeling inadequate but necessary.

She waves off her hand dismissively. “Don’t mention it.” She smiles warmly, then adds, “You know what they say, real friends let friends kiss them for practice.” She chuckles as she returns her attention to the screen.

“Right,” I chuckle in return, but inside, I’m spiraling. Friends don’t kiss like that. Friends don’t make your heart race and your mind spin. Friends don’t make you second-guess everything you believe in.

As I sink back into the movie, I try to clear my mind. It’s a futile effort because having Bon inches away from me is bringing my mind to a place it shouldn’t be—a place of complicated feelings and emotions that I’m more comfortable suppressing. To be honest, I deserve this. I’m the one who chose to ruin our perfect set-up because I was selfish and I was momentarily attracted to my friend. I can’t believe I did that. Me. I usually take three business days to decide on a meal plan, but apparently, it only takes me three seconds to decide I want to kiss Bonbon.

I run my hand through my hair and glance at her. She doesn’t squeal at the jump-scare, which means her thoughts are also not on the film. This movie is not proving to be a very good distraction tonight. I would give anything to jump into her brain and remove the chaos I planted there.

Before she can sense that I’m staring at her, I put my attention back to the film. At this point, it’s background noise .

For a moment, I realize that I may have messed things up. I feel like I’ve disrupted a delicate equilibrium, and now I’m grappling with the consequences of my actions. By kissing her, I crossed the line I tried so hard to maintain. And another thing I realize is that I don’t think I regret it.

My arm aches, a numbing sensation creeping through it, and my back feels like I’ve been lifting weights for hours. Disoriented, I struggle to piece together what happened. As I squint, expecting to see the ceiling, I’m instead greeted by the sight of a wall. I must have fallen asleep with my head propped up awkwardly. Then confusion sets in as I realize that this wall isn’t on my side of the room.

As my brain slowly catches up, I become more aware of my surroundings. The soft morning light filters through the curtains, gently illuminating the room. I look to my right and see that Bon’s head is resting on my shoulder, near my chest. She’s still sleeping. I guess we fell asleep watching her supposedly scary movie. I try to move my arm, but the numbness makes it feel like it’s weighed down by bricks. Every slight shift sends pins and needles shooting through it, but I don’t want to wake her. The calm rise and fall of her breath against me is strangely comforting.

Memories from last night start to trickle back. The kiss. The confusion. The tension. Shit.

Gently, I manage to extricate myself from Bon without waking her. I stand beside her bed, staring at her peaceful face. Before I even think, I snap a photo of her sleeping soundly, her tangled hair framing her serene expression.

A flood of emotions hits me as I look at the picture. Despite the chaos of last night, there’s something incredibly calming about this moment. I tuck my phone away and quietly head to the bathroom to take a shower.

When I’m done, Bon is propped up on the bed, still looking groggy. “Morning,” she says with a sleepy smile. “I can’t believe we fell asleep during a horror film. How horrible is this movie?” She chuckles as she redoes her tiny ponytail so it’s back to sprouting on top of her head. With a sigh, she takes her laptop to the table and proceeds to make her bed.

As she works, she starts rambling about a dream she had where she was being chased by a giant creature with Shrek’s face on a dragon’s body. The absurdity of her dream makes me laugh, and it’s clear she wants to return to normalcy. If she feels any awkwardness about last night, she’s not showing it. She’s talking to me like she has for years, with no trace of hesitation.

“Shrek on a dragon’s body, huh? That’s a new one,” I say, grinning as I towel off my hair. “And maybe we need to watch better movies.”

Bon laughs, shaking her head. “Or maybe I need to lay off the late-night snacks.” Or maybe, I think, we should not kiss our friends and cause a frenzy in all different ways.

As she continues to recount her dream, I can’t help but feel both relieved and frustrated. Part of me wants to press her, to dive into the depths of what happened last night.

I’m honestly ready to talk about the kiss, to unpack what it might have meant. But another part of me is grateful for this easy, familiar banter.

“For your next date, you should really get Alexa something,” she says, “a way to apologize for embarrassing her.” She glares at me. “I’m thinking of going to the souvenir shop some time. Wanna come with?” she says it so casually I don’t know if it makes me happy or annoyed that she doesn’t even mention the kiss. And she just talks about Alexa. I haven’t even thought about Alexa since our date yesterday. If I’m being honest, I wasn’t even thinking about her during the date.

I sigh. “Sure.” I manage to say before Bon enters the bathroom. I think I know the reason why I haven’t thought about Alexa and why I’m sure there won’t be a second date between us. I think I know the reason why, even when there’s a literal door between us, my mind is always on Bonbon. I think I know, but I’m not sure.

As I hear the shower running from the other side of the door, someone knocks on our room, which strikes me as odd because no one ever knocks here. I make my way to the door and see John standing outside.

“Hey, Ry. Got a minute?” he asks as I step out and close the door behind me.

“Sure, what’s up?”

He scratches the back of his head. “I’ve been trying to ask you, but for some reason, I can’t get ahold of you, so I decided to just come here first thing in the morning,” he says, and I raise my eyebrows to ask him to continue.

“I just want to reconfirm… are you and Bon still just friends?” he says softly. I think my eyes bulge a little as I slightly panic because, for some reason, I thought he found out about our kiss last night. But I realize it’s an absurd possibility, so I try to keep a straight face. Thankfully, John doesn’t notice my slip of emotion and continues, “I’m planning to ask her out, and I wanna make sure I’m not crossing any line here.”

Oh .

This takes me back to the first jeepney ride when they asked if we’re dating. It’s only been two weeks since then, but it feels like a lifetime ago. Our answer was a big resounding no. I had my eyes on Alexa, and only Alexa. There wasn’t any trace of romance between me and Bonbon. So, if John had asked me two weeks ago, I would’ve even set up their date for them.

Now, we’re technically still just friends. We might have shared a kiss, but it wasn’t in the context of romance or dating or a relationship of any sort. And I’m not sure Bon would appreciate it if I assume that she doesn’t want to go out with John.

“Well, that’s early. Is this your first thought in the morning?” I laugh, trying to lighten the mood. He chuckles in embarrassment, but I can see that he’s still waiting for my answer, so I say, “But yeah, yeah. Bon and I are just friends,” I say, my voice steady even though my stomach twists in a way I can’t quite explain.

John sighs with what I assume is relief. Why do I feel a pang in my stomach? Is it jealousy? It’s just breakfast, and he’s only going to ask her out. Who’s to say she’d even say yes? And even if she does, what right do I have to be bothered by it?

“Thanks, Ry.” He claps my shoulder, his grip firm and appreciative.

Just as I’m about to go back inside, the door opens and Bon’s forehead bumps into my back.

“Oops, sorry,” she says, then peeks behind me to say, “Hey, John. Whatcha doing here so early in the morning?”

“Just about to ask you to have breakfast with me, actually,” John says smoothly. I envy his confidence. He wanted to ask Bon out, and he did. Just like that. He didn’t need to seek out a friend’s help and complicate their relationship.

I realize I’m standing between them as they speak, like an intruder in my own personal space, so I move. As I do so, Bon reveals herself in full view. She’s wearing a knotted oversized white shirt with a Care Bear print, denim shorts adorned with little daisies, and yellow Crocs with an overspill of bedazzlement. I look at her hair and see that she’s wearing a headband that frames her face perfectly.

“Oh,” Bon says, obviously caught off guard. She smiles her usual sunshine-filled smile and adds, “Let’s get going then, I’m starving.”

She steps in front of me so she’s beside John. “You coming, Miller?” Miller. Just friends, indeed.

“You two go ahead,” I say, forcing a smile. “I’ll catch up in a while.”

I watch them walk away, the distance between us growing with every step they take. My chest feels heavy, my stomach twisting into tighter knots. Why does it bother me so much to see her with him? I lean against the door frame, watching until they disappear from view. Maybe I should talk to Bon about it, clear the air before it gets too complicated. But what if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if she likes John? And what exactly is this feeling that I want her to return? I run a hand through my hair, letting out a frustrated sigh.

They say the line between love and friendship is thin, but what happens when the line, from the way I see it, isn’t just thin? It isn’t even blurred. The line’s just… gone.