On A Deadline (A Short Story)
Finally, a post that isn’t a eulogy. But I published this story in a fabulous newsletter curated by wonderful romance authors, Hannah Orenstein and Georgia Clark, in 2022.
I’ve decided to publish it on Medium since that newsletter has been repurposed and is no longer visible without a paywall. I may be in a perpetual state of grief but I am first and foremost a contemporary romcom author.
Or, at the very least, I’m trying to be one. And it’s Valentine’s Day so why not? I don’t have a date, and haven’t been on one in years, but at least I can imagine how one might go.
I hope you enjoy this story, edited by Hannah Orenstein. And this was absolutely not inspired by a “real” story. I wish. It was more of a limerence thing—the person who influenced this tale only existed in my imagination, apparently.
But anyway. Meet Nat and Jay.
It wasn’t the most ideal way to start a first date — knowing that neither of you wanted this.
It took all her self-control not to storm out of this seaside café but Natalie Dimas promised her older brother she would give whatever this was her best shot. Though he was only older by 2 minutes and 13 seconds.
Not that he had ever let that go in 25 years.
‘Give him a chance,’ Nico had said. ‘Maybe three. He’s a character but when you get to know him, Sage says he’s exactly your type.’
Given that she and Nico had no secrets between them and had the same test in men, what that meant, she was scared to find out.
But so far, this man had already made her wait 20 minutes. When he sat down across from her, he stared at anything but her.
Beneath the table, Nat clenched her fists.
There was a hurt there she could not name. There was part of her — a buried romantic — that had been hoping this would work.
Maybe it still could.
So she tried.
She’d asked him with a forced brightness how he was, and if he was doing all right. He’d only given one-word responses.
When she stopped peppering him with questions, it was like he forgot he was on a date at all. The only thing missing was tumbleweed passing across their patio table as he sat there, silent. A cool, crisp breeze and the faint scent of espresso and sea salt from the nearby rocky shore wafted over them.
In the quaint town of Aberystwyth, the sea was pretty much always within your line of sight.
She shifted her weight on the rickety metal chair and tapped her fingers rhythmically next to her already-finished flat white. She stared him down with a steely, unblinking gaze, and waited for him to snap out of it.
This man had the length of one spitefully-held breath before she started hurting his feelings.
Despite the spaciness, Jay Langhani was infuriatingly attractive. His skin was a rich, warm brown and behind gold, thin-rimmed glasses, his eyes were a sacred kind of green — like the light through the stained glass window in her childhood cathedral just as the sun rose. For a moment, she wondered if he was mid-conference with the Holy Ghost.
Unfortunately for him, while she was known to be quick in forgiving a trespass, she was not full of grace.
Nat exhaled.
The grace period was over.
“Okay, I’m sorry, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Jay blinked, finally getting him to look at her for a good long moment. There was a familiar flicker in those eyes, she thought — a specific brand of dangerous she recognized and knew exactly how to provoke.
Oh.
So that’s what Nico meant.
She might have balked away from the piercing stare but she’d worked too hard to earn it.
“I’m sorry?” he asked finally, measured and deadly quiet. He had the audacity to smirk, somehow amused and offended.
Nat scoffed but swallowed quickly, trying to ignore how a stare could make her cheeks feel so tingly. “You should be,” she started, pushing her glasses up. Jay’s eyes narrowed, watching her every micro-expression. “But quite frankly, I don’t care if you are and I don’t even want to be here. So I damn well don’t deserve whatever brand of assholery this — ” she motioned up and down at him with two fingers “ — silent treatment shit is.”
His smirk grew. His cheeks, warmer. Like red earth. “You’re being quite rude.”
Not a question.
Why did he look amused now? Almost dangerous.
Her hair rose at the back of her neck.
She tucked hair behind both ears. “You started it.”
“Even if that were true, I — ” His smile fell. “Hang on, you don’t want to be here either?”
That was unexpected. So softly delivered, so surprisingly earnest.
Nat blinked, leaned back, and crossed her arms.
“Explain.”
“You know Sage, right?”
“My brother’s partner, yes.”
“They’ve been trying to set me up on a date for months. I only agreed so I could say I tried.”
“ — barely,” she muttered.
“To get them off my back,” he continued, not taking her bait, “and get some relief from the whole dating thing.”
Nat started to smile. “I have so many follow-up questions.”
Jay chortled. “Yeah, I bet you would.”
He said it like an inside joke.
Like people did ask him about it all the time.
“That’s what the cold shoulder was about? It’s not me, it’s you?”
“Actually, it is definitely me.” His smirk made it difficult to stay mad at him, now that he was actually talking. “I haven’t been on a good date in a while and, I don’t know how many ‘so what do you do’s I’ve got left in me.”
“Let me ask you a very fair question, then. On how many of those dates did you actually try? Make an effort beyond showing up?”
Jay rolled his eyes, a dimpled grin burrowing beneath his bearded cheek. “You don’t let up, do you?”
“Why should I?”
“Look, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be a dick. I’m usually better than this.”
“Doesn’t matter what you meant. That’s a shit apology.”
He furrowed his brows. “Are you always this much of a br — ”
Nat smirked knowingly when he stopped himself.
“Are you always this blunt?” he said instead.
“I don’t lie,” she said. “As a rule. Especially to my twin. Does it get me in trouble? Yes. But one thing you can never call me is a liar.”
“Not even to be polite?”
She shrugged. “I may omit some truer thoughts, I’m not a total bitch. But if you ask me for the truth, I’m giving it. Performative politeness doesn’t do anything but foster resentment and you’ve done nothing to earn my softness.”
“I have so many follow-up questions,” he said.
“Yeah, I bet you would.”
Jay grinned wider. “Can we get out of here? Start over?”
“Should I be scared?”
They were on a paved, elevated walkway, a few feet above the rocky shore by the sea at low tide.
On the railing was a menacing seagull.
When she looked at it, just about to take a bite out of her sugary donut, she could’ve sworn that the seagull tilted its head and stared. Ravenous.
Nat looked away and hid her face with her hand. Jay took a glance and shrugged.
“Nah, you’ll be fine. They never attack anyone out here.” A beat later, he conspired, “Just don’t make eye contact.”
Nat shook off the feeling and took her first bite.
He’d insisted on buying the box of three classic twists — the best donuts in the country, he’d claimed, were from this red cart on wheels by the beach. They’d gotten the last box, just as they were closing. It was the time of year when the sun would set far earlier than her tropical self would have liked and the sky was already a little too dark.
Nat wanted him to be wrong, for that upper hand to show that she wasn’t easily won back over. And she hated the moan she let out as soon as the pastry hit her tongue. Jay snickered. She elbowed him as they walked.
“Should we skip a level? I can give you Spark Notes-me in 30 seconds.”
“Hit me with it.”
“I’m Natalie, friends call me Nat. 25. Filipino, born and raised. Just lost my job in Manila, crushingly single after years of dead-end situationships. My roommate-slash-best friend and I had a falling out so she moved and I couldn’t afford the apartment so I moved in with my aunt. Who then died, two days after I moved in.”
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Jay said, a warm, heavy hand on her shoulder. “How’re you holding up?”
She shrugged his hand off. “Please don’t.”
“But are you — ”
“Don’t,” she insisted. “There’s nothing special about the way I grieve, just take it as it is and keep it moving.”
He looked like he wanted to argue but she pleaded with her eyes. Ask me about anything but this, her eyes said.
“Okay,” he said. “That’s what brings you to Wales, then?”
“For a month,” she replied, relieved. “Nico insisted. He felt bad that he has a life and I don’t. Really, I think he just wants to play the big brother part so I could get taken care of for once. It sounded nice at the time, to switch off the part of me that needs to feel safe, but, bless him, he has no clue how.”
She took another bite of her donut and nudged him. “Your turn.”
“Jay, 27,” he started. Nat smiled. He held up a hand and counted off traits with his fingers. “Welsh-Pakistani. Work in cyber security, youngest of four… Cancer Sun?”
She laughed.
“My best friend, Luigi’s, ex-girlfriend was really into astrology, I don’t just know that,” he explained with a laugh. “And I’ve known Sage since uni. Two years ago, the love of my life, Lanie… she broke up with me. Out of nowhere. On WhatsApp. Haven’t heard from her since.”
Nat cringed.
“Shut up.” He playfully elbowed her arm.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Never really figured it out… couldn’t do the long-distance thing anymore.”
“You or her?”
“Bit of both? I was willing to put in the effort but… I don’t think she was.”
“You’re not sure?”
“Lanie… liked to keep me guessing, I suppose. Kept things interesting.”
“You just never tried again?”
“What’s the point in trying if all love gives you is pain?”
Nat made a face at him.
“Too much?”
“Liiiiittle dramatic,” she teased. “But you’re a Cancer Sun, so.”
Jay laughed. Then he said, “Shall we wrap this up, then?”
That made her stop. A little hurt.
“You’re really not interested in me at all, huh?”
“Hey, no, I didn’t say that.”
“Then say what you mean.”
“I…” he started. “I can’t do the long-distance thing again. I like you but I’m not sure this can go anywhere.”
“Who says it has to?” she challenged. “I’m only here for a month, Nico and Sage don’t have to know…”
“What — we fake it?”
“Christ, no. I’ve read enough fanfiction to know how that goes,” she said. “Nico wants me to be happy. Sage wants you to get over your ex — ”
“I am over he — ”
“Honey,” she said, her pointer finger hovering just a breath away from his lips. “I’m not done talking.”
That made him stop.
He turned to her. The flash from earlier returned to his eyes and she felt a sense of victory. Jay cocked his brows and pushed the tip of his tongue against the inside of his cheek. She dropped her hand and stepped back.
“Honey?”
“Once I get comfortable, I tend to do that?” she explained. “It’s level two friendship. Fairly easy to reach when you’re not being a catatonic dick. Why, does it bother you?”
He licked his full lips and grinned, the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth. “Baby, you just don’t know what you’ve done.”
Nat choked back a laugh and stumbled, her back against the railing now as she failed to fight the pathetically immediate physical reaction to being called ‘baby’ in that voice.
“Hey,” she warned weakly, but still smiling. She tucked her hair behind both ears. “Watch yourself.”
Jay grinned wider. “You can do it and I can’t?”
“I think pet names land very different between us.”
“I don’t think they do,” he said, closer to her now, almost leaning down.
“Yeah?”
They looked at each other for a little too long.
Stood a little too close.
“Anyway, I say we just do it.” She swallowed and lightly pushed him away, restarting their walk. He raised a brow. “Oh, shut up. I mean actually date but only we know it’s not going to go anywhere. Dating on a deadline, ikanga.”
“What?”
“Uh, in… other words?” she loosely translated. “This way, neither of us wastes our time because we know when it ends. I mean, you said it yourself, you don’t even really want to do this, right? You’re just trying to get Sage off your back.”
“You’ve given this a fair amount of thought.”
She shrugged. “I like to be prepared.”
“Or be in control?”
“Other way around.” She winked.
“Wouldn’t this be lying to your brother?”
“Pfft — if you and I actually go out a few times, that’s not lying,” she argued. “I’m very good at working my way around the twin thing. So what do you say?”
Jay narrowed his eyes. She met his gaze and raised a challenging brow.
Finally, he said, “No sex.”
With an open-mouthed choking sound, Nat said, “You can’t be serious.”
“Hear me out — ”
“Afraid you’ll get attached, Cancer Sun?” she teased.
“Look, baby, if you really want this to not go anywhere…”
“So what was all this?” she asked, gesturing between them.
“Should I have mentioned that I’m a tease?”
Nat groaned. She wanted to wipe the smirk off his face so badly.
“Ugh, you know what, fine — no kissing. All physical intimacy, out the door.” Jay cocked his head and gave her a look that said he wasn’t buying it. She reconsidered. “Okay, scratch that — can’t resist a hug. I’m a hugger. But that’s it. Deal?”
“I think I can hack that,” he said. “Split the last one to seal it?”
He offered her the last of the donuts.
Then the seagulls attacked.
Nat screeched as dozens (though it felt like hundreds) of birds swarmed them and Jay dropped the box. He swore loudly and took off his fleece-lined, denim jacket and covered both of them against these suddenly violent seagulls.
When the birds descended upon their true target, the last donut, they ran as far as their feet would carry them. Of course, the jacket protecting them was now covered in shit.
Despite nearly being murdered by birds, when she got back to her room that night, she couldn’t keep the grin off her face.
She should have been some kind of angry.
She should have been mortified.
But all she could think about was his easy smile at her afterwards when they reached a point of safety. All she could remember were those green eyes that shimmered in the moonlight.
And she laughed, wondering how the hell their deal was supposed to work.
The next few weeks went well.
They played Dance Dance Revolution at the arcade by the pier, visited old bookshops, and went to Asian-fusion restaurants in town to test their authenticity. Each of them, following this set of rules they had imposed upon each other — kind of dating, kind of getting into it but with one foot out the door.
Nico and Sage, of course, checked in frequently. Deliberately vague, Nat and Jay said it was going well and they seemed to really like each other.
Each couple, delighted that their respective plans seemed to be working.
Something they hadn’t accounted for, however, was that when you spent enough time with somebody you liked and they liked you too… something was bound to shift.
In the innuendos they couldn’t help but tease.
In the pauses that were too heated and pregnant to be platonic.
In their stolen, shy glances.
In the barely-there restraint to reach out for the other.
One of them was going to give.
‘And it’s not going to be me,’ she thought.
She kept thinking this and reminding herself that this wasn’t going anywhere by design. They made a deal. But slowly, they endeared themselves to each other anyway.
The pair fell into the habit of sending each other voice notes when they were apart. He had to work while she did touristy things. At first, they were ten minutes long then quickly became two easy hours of endless, addictive talk.
Jay, she learned, liked to take long walks alone, EDM, and Jaffa Cakes. He hated olives and the sound of people chewing. And most important of all, he loved loudly, and never missed an opportunity to mention how much he loved his friends. Protective to the point where he avenged them like it was his job, like when he defiled his friend’s cheating ex-girlfriend’s mouthwash when he was drunk. There was a side of him that took vicious charge that she liked. But when he spoke of the things he loved, like his baby niece, there was a kindness there that called to her.
In turn, Nat regaled just as many tales. She loved fish paste on green mangoes, took karaoke as seriously as an Olympic athlete might to their respective sport, and could deliver a 3-hour lecture on why Katara from Avatar: The Last Airbender (the animated series, not the live action) should have ended up with Zuko on a dime.
Though she never dwelled on the things that made her sad. There was no going back once she got going; getting away from those feelings was the point of this trip.
But loss was a common theme in her narrative. And from there, the foundation for her pathological honesty slowly built.
When she lost her job, it was because it was someone else’s word against hers. When she lost her friend, same thing. When she lost her aunt, and some of the family blamed her no matter how hard she tried to convince them otherwise, something broke.
Nat had had trouble being believed. She always told the truth, hoping one day, it’ll stick and someone would finally believe her.
This trip was a last-ditch effort to let someone else take the reins. Because so far, all her choices seemed to end up with her losing.
So she let someone else choose.
But maybe not all the way.
She knew she was getting in too deep, the more she told him. She told herself that it was fine, the date of her return ticket was approaching fast, and this would end on her terms, without her having lost anything.
After their fifth date, days before she had to fly back home, Nat figured out that Jay pretty much had one outfit on rotation.
She suggested they go thrift-shopping. She didn’t say it was for him.
As they rolled into Bow Street station, one train stop from Aberystwyth, on the side were the words ‘WELCOME TO HELL’ painted in red against a single house’s white wall.
“Think that’s an omen?” she asked.
“Eh, you’re not that bad,” he teased as he got up and offered her his hand.
“Fuck off,” she said, taking it.
“The old man who lives there is just committed to the bit. Says this station ruined his life.”
“Right on. I can respect that,” she said as they stepped out of the train. “You, however — ”
“What’ve I done wrong?”
“Do you change clothes? Ever?”
“This is a different shirt from the one you saw me in last,” he argued.
“Doesn’t look it. I imagine you opening your closet and it’s a whole Dexter’s Laboratory situation up in there.”
“I…” he trailed off as they walked out of the station and down to the open main road, this quainter part of Wales more surrounded by green hills and pasture. Nat raised a brow at him. “Okay, you’re not completely wrong. But I don’t care much for fashion. I don’t want people to like me because of what I look like.”
“Honey, that’s not what I’m saying. Do you feel good in what you wear?”
“I feel like me,” he said, defensive.
“That’s good!” Nat said. “But do you feel good about yourself? Attractive? Confident? Do you ever step out of your house thinking… I look good today.”
“Not particularly,” he said. “I don’t mean that in a deprecating way. I know I’m attractive. I just don’t get why feeling it’s important.”
“Why not try? You’d be surprised how good you might feel when you make a bit of an effort. Like when people see you and think — that’s a good-looking man.”
“I don’t care what people think.”
“What about what I think?”
He started to smile. “What d’you mean?”
“Imagine how you would feel if I looked at you… head to toe…” Nat said, deliberately low, slow, and sultry. “And you could see in my face that I thought you looked really, really good.”
Jay gave her a look as he adjusted his glasses and she stared into those sparkling green eyes, so vibrant against the blue of the sky and the rich earth of his skin. The corner of his lip quirked up. Right in that moment, she could have sworn he was going to kiss her.
“This look worked on you before.”
“The first time, maybe,” she teased back. “Now…?”
He huffed and pulled her to him by the waist. She gasped and pressed her hands against his chest, feeling his heavy breaths. He leaned in, infuriatingly close, and he stared at her lips.
He was about to give in.
Nat refused to move.
But then he leaned back and exhaled sharply to the sky.
She stared, open-mouthed.
“What was that?”.
“Come on, we have a deal,” he grumbled.
Though who was he convincing?
Something was wrong.
After shopping, he walked her home that night, and she thought he was going to give again. Despite it being against the boundaries they both set, she would have let him.
If he asked her to forget the deal, if he wanted to try and see where this might go… she would have said yes.
But he didn’t.
He turned away at the last second and said goodbye. When they texted minutes later, they acted like nothing had happened.
But she knew.
There was something.
They were scheduled to meet up the next day and see the ruins of Aberystwyth Castle by the sea.
There was a weight in the air that pressed against her on all sides and it was enough to drive her crazy.
As they walked through the mossy ruins, she couldn’t remember a single step. She couldn’t see anything else. She didn’t even know if either of them spoke at all.
Eventually, they took a seat at the base of some stairs, inside this nearly-preserved tower, and endured an unbearable silence. He lit a cigarette and smoked, shaking his leg. Nat held her breath and played with her hands on her lap.
He had until the end of this held breath to say something.
He didn’t.
She exhaled.
“Jay, what is going on?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. Still not looking at her.
“For what?”
“Nat, I can’t do this.”
She stared, open-mouthed and unblinking. “I don’t understand. Do what?”
“This — ” he said, turning to her, and he gestured “ — us.”
“But I… I’m almost gone,” she reasoned. “The deal was only until I left.”
“But I know what you want,” he pressed. “I know you don’t want this to end.”
“What do you know about what I want?”
“Because it’s what I want,” he said, clearly pained. He put out his cigarette and flicked it away. “We can’t do this.”
“How did you think this was going to end?”
“I don’t know but this has to end right now,” he stressed. “I can’t see you again, I just… didn’t think you’d be like this.”
“What…” She felt hot tears form and forced them not to fall. “Like what? What did I do?”
“It’s not that, it’s not you — ”
“Please don’t say it’s not you, it’s me.”
“Baby, I don’t know what else to say.”
“But… what am I like?”
“I don’t know. Real? Good?” Jay brought his knee up and dangled his arm over it. He clenched his fists. “I’d imagined you’d be a lot of things but… you tick so many boxes for me and I just… never thought you’d be this amazing.”
Nat scoffed. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know that and I want this, but…”
That “but”.
She closed her eyes and let her head fall against the wall. She grit her teeth together and bunched up her dress in her hands. He continued.
“I want something real with you but I can’t do the long-distance thing again.”
“You can’t even try?” She hated that she pleaded.
“I can’t, I’m sorry — ”
“Okay,” she said, cutting him off, keeping her face as blank as she could. “Okay.”
One more word from him and she might break. She pulled her energy back, willing the air to give her the courage to get up and leave. She wasn’t about to beg. She was better than that.
But her feet wouldn’t listen, and her heart was saying something else.
Nat hated this feeling — for things to be so out of her control. This wasn’t the plan. But then…
“Is there anything you want to say before — ” he said.
It was at that moment she thought, ‘Fuck it. I have nothing left to lose.’
Before she could think, she turned, pulled him to her, and kissed him before he could ruin it. Jay kissed her back without hesitation, slipping his tongue into her mouth, and he tasted sweet, spicy, and with a hint of cigarette smoke.
She was addicted at first touch.
His coarse, warm hands pulled her face and her waist, closer to him. When he pulled back, she whimpered.
He stayed close, their noses touching, as she tried to catch her breath. He was just as breathless, her eyes staring at his glistening full lips, the soft but coarse salt-and-pepper hair of his beard.
“This is why I didn’t kiss you last night,” he muttered.
“Why?”
“‘Cause now, all I want to do is kiss you again.”
So he did.
He pressed himself closer to her, their glasses clashing. He had to stop kissing her for just a moment to lightly toss both frames away. He pressed her against the wall and the next thing she knew, his hand moved from her face to the back of her neck, then to the front — his thumb and pointer finger on two pressure points beneath her jaw that made her forget her name. His palm was warm, heavy, and delicious against her throat.
“Wait — ” she said, pulling away.
“Sorry, I’m so — ”
“No, honey, let me finish,” she said, a hand on his face. She brushed her thumb over his lips. With eyes full of intention, in a low voice, she said, “Don’t put your hands around my throat if you’re not going to follow through.”
So he did.
The next morning, before the sun had risen, Nat looked up at Jay already awake and staring at her with pain in his eyes.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he murmured.
She could fill a universe with all the things she wanted to say. Lifetimes’ worth of emotion filled her chest. She felt like her bones might break from the force of having to keep everything she was holding back. But her tongue didn’t know how to form the words.
This, whatever this could have been, was just another thing she had to lose.
‘Take it as it is and keep it moving,’ she thought.
Her lips parted and her lungs forgot the taste of air. Her eyes did the speaking for her. When she finally remembered her words, she did something she couldn’t remember doing in years.
“It’s fine,” she lied.
A twelve-hour train ride, fourteen combined hours of delay, and fifteen hours in the air later… Natalie Dimas landed in Manila.
She passed through the tedious immigration lines of NAIA Terminal 3 half-dead, trying to think about how she was going to get back to her lonely inherited home. She should have arranged for a car to meet her but an expensive Grab Car would have to do.
With sluggish effort, she secured her checked-in luggage that just managed to fit into the allowed weight. Everything in her body screamed for rest. Her eyes, sore from the on-and-off crying.
She felt the familiar air of grief wrap around her like a weighted blanket, crushing her bones beneath the hollow gravity of loss. Any kind of new loss, though smaller or different, settling atop an already grieving, bleeding heart was beyond exhausting. Like suddenly, losing is the only thing you’ve ever done at all.
And she must keep going.
There was no alternative.
So focused was she on moving on that she barely registered the name on the piece of paper that stood amongst the sea of people at arrivals.
Nat did a double-take before she saw those glasses.
Those green eyes.
She walked to him, trance-like, then dropped her bags. “What are you doing here?”
“D’you know that there was a shorter flight just after you left?” Jay said.
“I don’t understand. Why are you here?”
“’Cause you’re here.”
“Jay — ” she tried, voice breaking.
“Baby, let me finish,” he said. Nat laughed, almost delirious. Crying now. “I couldn’t do it. I thought I couldn’t do this, you and me… but then you left and I realized that was worse. And I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try for you. And I want to try.”
“Jay…” she whispered, voice full of emotion, ready to burst. “Nothing’s changed, you know that.”
“I did.” He rested his forehead against hers and she could almost taste him. “I changed, baby. Being with you did that — wanting to be with you did that. No deadlines, no deals. I just want to give you everything you want because, quite frankly, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I’d deal with anything if it meant I can have this with you.”
She took in a shaky breath. He did not look away. When she exhaled, she nodded against him and he took her breath away with a kiss that promised a lifetime of more.
And isn’t that the most ideal way to start something new — knowing that both of you, despite everything, want this?
