Chapter 29
"I never once permitted any student in this event to have physical contact with anyone," she declared, her voice sharp and unwavering. "Not even a simple hug—I never sanctioned such a thing."
Silence stretched between us, the energy in the air shifting dramatically. The excitement that had filled the booth just moments ago was now replaced by tension so thick it was suffocating.
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Come with me," she commanded, her voice firm as her fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist.
The warmth of her touch burned against my skin, but it wasn’t the kind of warmth that comforted—it was suffocating, almost desperate.
I froze, unsure of how to react.
What was she doing here?
Why now?
And how could she act like nothing had happened—like she hadn’t done something that had shattered me into a thousand pieces?
I wanted to pull away. I wanted to demand an explanation. But above all, I didn’t want to create a scene, not here, not in front of all these people. So instead, I swallowed my pride and followed her silently, my heart pounding with every step she took, dragging me into the unknown.
The moment we reached a secluded corner, far from the eyes and ears of the other students, I didn’t hesitate—I yanked my hand away from hers, the cold air immediately rushing in between us.
"What do you want, Miss?" I asked, my voice carefully measured, forced into a neutrality I didn’t feel.
"Follow me, Gomez," she said again, her tone leaving no room for argument. But I wasn’t about to make this easy for her.
I took a step back. "I don’t want to, Miss. Not unless you tell me why." My voice hardened. "Isn’t it inappropriate for a professor to drag her student away without even offering an explanation?"
Her expression darkened, frustration flickering in her eyes. "Why are you acting different? What’s your problem, Gomez?" she demanded. "Wouldn’t it just be easier to do as I say?"
I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head.
"I’m not acting different, Miss. I just have the right to know where you’re taking me. You’re expecting blind obedience without even telling me why. How am I supposed to trust you?" I challenged, watching the way her jaw tightened, the way she exhaled sharply through her nose, clearly struggling to contain her irritation.
She let out a slow, deliberate sigh, her fingers clenching at her sides. "Gomez," she said, her voice lower now, as if warning me, "don’t make me repeat myself."
I refused to back down. "Why? Because you don’t want to answer? Because you know the answer doesn’t make sense?" I pushed, tilting my head. "It’s a simple question, Miss. Why can’t you just answer it?"
I knew I was pushing her limits, and some part of me relished in it, in the way her patience cracked just a little bit more with each word I threw at her.
But deep inside, I wasn’t even angry.
I wanted to be—I wanted to hate her for she had done, for what she had made me feel, for how she had shattered something inside me that I wasn’t sure could be put back together.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t hate her.
And that infuriated me more than anything.
Her eyes burned into mine as she exhaled sharply, her voice laced with something dangerously close to frustration. "I hate you, Gomez. I really do."
A bitter smile curled on my lips. "You always hate me, Miss. You don’t need to remind me. It’s been branded into my mind long before now."
For a moment, her expression wavered. It was so quick, so fleeting, I almost missed it. But then it was gone, replaced by the cold indifference she had perfected so well.
"What is wrong with you?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her arms over her chest, a clear challenge in her stance. "Why are you behaving this way?"
I wanted to laugh. She was unbelievable. Here she was, dragging me into some hidden corner, refusing to give me a reason, acting as if she had every right to demand my obedience—and now she was asking me what my problem was?
But despite everything, despite the tension crackling between us, I couldn’t ignore one simple fact: she looked breathtaking.
Her outfit her perfectly, accentuating every curve, every sharp angle, every soft edge.
The way the dim light hit her skin, the way her hair framed her face, the way her lips parted slightly as she waited for my response—it was unfair.
It was infuriating.
She was a storm, beautiful and dangerous, and I was standing in the eye of it, unable to move.
But I refused to let her see that.
"I don’t have a problem, Miss," I finally said, my voice even. "But if you have nothing more to say, then excuse me." I turned away, ready to leave this ridiculous conversation behind—but before I could take a single step, she grabbed my wrist again, yanking me back toward her.
My breath hitched.
"Are you mad because I didn’t let you hug Seinna?" she asked, and her voice was lower now, sharper. Her grip on my wrist tightened as she pulled me closer, so close that I could feel the heat radiating from her. "Are you that desperate to touch her?"
I blinked. Of all the things she could have said, that was not what I expected.
Did she really think that was the issue here? If only she knew the truth—that I had been grateful when she stopped me. That I didn’t want to hug Ms. Dizon. That I had only wanted her.
But I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of knowing that.
So instead, I smirked, tilting my head slightly. "Yes, I am. And so what?"
Her fingers twitched against my skin. "You are absolutely insane, Gomez," she hissed. "After what you did last night—after kissing me like that—now you want Seinna?"
My smirk faltered.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
She wasn’t supposed to bring that up.
"W-what?" I breathed, barely able to form the word.
She let out a humorless chuckle. "What? Isn’t it true? You kissed me last night, and now, you’re chasing after someone else? You’re unbelievable, Gomez."
I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice.
"I don’t like her, Miss. And why do you keep bringing up what happened last night? Isn’t that the reason you hate me? You want to forget it, right? So let’s just forget it. I’m sorry for what happened. Don’t worry—I won’t bother you again. You hate me that much, don’t you? Fine. I’ll give you what you want."
Lies. All of it.
I could say the words, but I could never mean them.
No matter how much I tried, I knew—I would always come back to her.
Her grip didn’t loosen. If anything, it tightened. "So this is your way of telling me you really do like Seinna, huh?"
"And what if I do?" I shot back. "It’s none of your business, Miss. And can you please let go of me? You’re hurting me."
Her fingers immediately released me, but the fire in her eyes never dimmed.
"I hate you,"
"I know,"
"I really, really hate you, Gomez."
"I know, Miss," I repeated. "But stop saying it. Because it hurts."
For the first time, she fell silent.
The air between us was suffocating, thick with something unspoken. Then, she finally spoke, her voice quieter this time. "I just wanted you to follow me, Gomez. That’s all I wanted today. Why is it so difficult for you to just listen to me?"
"And why is it so difficult for you to tell me why?" I countered.
She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a brief moment before meeting mine again.
"I don’t like what you’re wearing, Gomez," she finally admitted. "You’re showing too much. I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this."
Her words crashed over me like a wave.
"You don’t like what I’m wearing?" I repeated, staring at her, my arms crossing over my chest. I made sure my voice was steady, indifferent. I wouldn’t let her see how her words got to me. "And why exactly does that matter to you, Miss?"
Ms. Sanchez sighed sharply, looking away as if she was already regretting saying anything. "I just think it’s inappropriate for school," she muttered, her tone clipped. "You should know better than to dress like that."
I blinked, scoffing. At least, that’s what I made it seem like. Inside, my stomach twisted, heat crawling up my neck. She was looking at me—really looking—but acting like she wasn’t. Typical.
"Excuse me?" I tilted my head, playing the part of someone who didn’t care. Who wasn’t hanging on her every word.
She sighed again, clearly growing irritated. "You heard me, Gomez."
I frowned, but it wasn’t real frustration. Just a mask, something to hide the fact that my heart was racing in ways it shouldn’t. "Since when do you care about what I wear?"
Her jaw tightened. "Since you started walking around looking like that."
Like that? I kept my expression neutral, but inside, my pulse skipped. What did she mean by that? What was she seeing?
"Like what?" I challenged, stepping closer. My voice was steady, controlled. I wouldn’t let her know she was affecting me.
Her eyes flickered over me for a fraction of a second before she tore her gaze away, shifting uncomfortably. "Like you're trying to get attention," she muttered.
Oh.
I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. "Oh, so now it’s my fault if people look at me?" I challenged. My words were sharp, but my stomach twisted.
"I didn’t realize I had to dress according to your standards, Miss."
She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. "Gomez, just listen for once—"
"No, Miss," I interrupted, stepping right into her space. Too close. But I didn’t back down. I couldn’t. "I don’t get you. One second, you’re ignoring me. The next, you’re acting like this—like you have some kind of say in my life, in what I wear, in what I do. And it's hurting me."
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
"You’re always like this," I continued, my voice low but firm.
"You treat me like I don’t matter, like I’m just another student. But then you do things like this—things that make no sense. You say my clothes are inappropriate, but for who? You? Because you’re the only one who seems to have a problem with it."
Ms. Sanchez clenched her jaw, looking anywhere but at me. "That’s not—"
"Not what?" I pressed, tilting my head, keeping my voice steady. "Not true? Then explain it to me, Miss. Why does it bother you so much?"
She inhaled sharply, her eyes dark with frustration. "Because it just does, Gomez," she snapped.
That didn’t make sense. And we both knew it.
"Why do you have to question everything?" she added, her voice tight.
I smirked, even though my chest was tight.
"Because you don’t make any sense." My voice was lighter than I felt, but I couldn’t let her see it.
I wouldn’t give her that.
"You keep doing this, acting like you don’t care but then getting mad over the smallest things. You push me away, you act cold, but then you—"
"That’s enough, Gomez," she cut in, her voice sharp.
I tilted my head, keeping my smirk in place. "No, it’s not," I countered, even though my heart was hammering. "Because I need to know. I need to understand what you want from me, Miss. Because one second, you’re annoyed by me, and the next, you’re acting like— like—"
"Like what?" she demanded, her voice quieter now.
I swallowed hard, pulse racing.
"Like you care," I whispered.
Silence.
She exhaled, closing her eyes for a second before looking at me again. "I don’t," she said, her voice flat.
I smiled, but it wasn’t a happy one. It was the kind of smile you wear when you know someone’s lying to themselves. "Then why are we even having this conversation, Miss?"
She didn’t answer.
I shook my head, laughing softly, playing it cool even as my chest ached. "Exactly," I muttered, stepping back. "This is pointless."
But before I could turn away, her voice stopped me.
"Do you enjoy it?" she asked suddenly.
I turned back, frowning. "What?"
"Do you enjoy the attention?" she clarified, her gaze sharper now. "Do you like it when people stare at you?"
I blinked, caught off guard. Not by the question, but by the way she was looking at me.
"Why does it matter?" I asked, my voice steady, unreadable.
She scoffed, shaking her head. "Of course you do."
I forced myself to roll my eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you love being the center of attention," she said, crossing her arms. "You love having people look at you, talk about you, fawn over you—"
"I don’t like it, Miss." My voice was steady, but my heart was anything but. I clenched my hands into fists, keeping my expression neutral, even though my chest was tightening with every word. "You want the truth? I hate it."
She didn’t say anything, just stared at me with that same unreadable expression that drove me insane.
"I don’t care about them, Miss," I continued, shaking my head. "I don’t care about the people looking at me, those who like me or want my attention. Wala akong pakialam sa kanila, Miss." I took a deep breath, forcing myself to keep going. "Do you want to know why?"
A pause. A beat of silence where my heart threatened to betray me.
"It’s because my heart belongs to someone I can’t have, Miss," I finally admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "To someone who will never see me the same way I see them. I’m going crazy over someone who doesn’t even look at me the way I want them to."
My fingers curled tighter.
"And that hurts more than anything."
I saw her tense slightly, but she didn’t speak.
I let out a shaky breath. "I like you so much, Miss." I laughed, but it was hollow, empty. "No—" I shook my head, my throat tightening. "I love you. I love you so much it’s ruining me. Sobra, Miss. Hindi ko na alam kung paano ‘to titigilan."
I refused to cry. I refused to let my voice shake. I refused to let her see just how much she was breaking me.
"I didn’t even know love could be this cruel," I continued. "You keep pushing me away, lagi mong pinapamukha sa akin na wala akong pag-asa pagdating sa’yo." My lips trembled, but I kept them pressed together. "And I get it, Miss. Alam ko naman. You have a boyfriend. You love him. I know that."
I inhaled sharply, blinking rapidly.
"I know I don’t have a chance. I know it, Miss."
I forced a smile.
"But here I am," I whispered. "Expecting. Wishing. Umaasa sa isang bagay na alam ko namang hindi mangyayari."
She still didn’t respond. She just stood there, looking at me, her face as blank as ever.
"Minsan, iniisip ko… paano nga ba ako nahulog sa’yo? Kahit alam kong mula sa simula, hindi mo ako kayang mahalin pabalik?" I let out a soft, bitter laugh. "I don’t know what happened, but despite knowing all this, I still found myself falling for you."
I looked away, biting my lip. "Maybe it’s the way you smile. Maybe it’s the way you speak, the way you carry yourself. Maybe it’s because even when you act cold, I still see something warm in you. I don’t know, Miss. I don’t know anymore."
I met her gaze again, searching for something—anything.
"But I guess that’s how it works, right?" I forced out another laugh, this one softer. "We fall for people even when we know it’s not meant to be. I was never someone you even considered. But I thought… kahit isang beses, titingnan mo rin ako."
I exhaled sharply, my fingers trembling. "I thought I could handle it. Na kaya ko. But it’s hard, Miss. It’s hard to unfeel something you’ve already felt so deeply."
I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady myself.
"Parang may bahagi sa akin na tinanggap na lang na wala akong control sa nararamdaman ko. Kasi kahit anong pilit kong itigil, kahit anong subok kong umiwas… lagi akong bumabalik sa’yo."
I gave her a small, tired smile.
"But despite everything…" My voice wavered, my throat tightening as I fought against the lump forming there. "Kahit hindi mo ako kayang mahalin, nandito pa rin ako."
I forced a weak chuckle, shaking my head.
"I will love you until I can't, Miss. I will still even bother you, until I can't." I met her gaze, my heart aching at how unreadable her expression was.
"Gustong-gusto kita eh." My voice dropped to a whisper.
"Kahit alam kong hindi mo ako kailanman magugustuhan pabalik."
I exhaled sharply, blinking back the stinging in my eyes.
"Pero 'wag kang mag-alala," I added, a small, bitter smile curling at my lips. "Kahit hindi mo man kayang ibalik, hindi naman ako umaasa." I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head at myself. "Nakakatawa, 'di ba? Knowing na wala akong kahit katiting na chance, pero mahal pa rin kita. Alam kong wala, pero hindi ko mapigilan."
I swallowed hard, looking away for a second before forcing myself to meet her eyes again. "It's you that I will still love, Miss," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "Kahit masakit. Kahit wala akong mapapala. Kahit ang tanging ginagawa mo lang ay itaboy ako palayo."
I bit my lower lip, trying to keep myself together.
"I will stay, Miss," I continued, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.
"Kahit bilang estudyante mo nalang. Kahit ganun nalang. Because even if that’s all I’ll ever be to you, at least… at least I still get to be in your life somehow."
I inhaled shakily, pressing a hand to my chest as if that would help steady my heartbeat. "And I will wish you the best in everything, always," I whispered.
Then, after a brief pause, I chuckled humorlessly. "So don't say that I like someone else, okay, Miss?" I tilted my head slightly, eyes searching hers. "Dahil hindi naman sila ikaw."
The silence that followed was deafening.
I stared at her, hoping—begging—for something. Anything. A reaction. A flicker of hesitation. A sign that, even for just a second, my words had meant something to her.
And then—
"That’s nonsense, Gomez," she said, her voice cold and final.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my entire body going still.
"Let’s forget everything that happened here," she continued, her tone completely detached, as if my words had meant nothing.
As if I had meant nothing.
"You don’t have to change your clothes. It’s your decision." She exhaled, shaking her head slightly.
"Forget what I said. Forget everything that happened."
I felt my heart drop, the weight of her words pressing down on my chest.
"What you’re saying is nonsense," she repeated, her voice firm. "I won’t ever like you."
And just like that, she turned around and walked away.
Leaving me there.
Alone.
I didn’t move. I didn’t call out to her. I just stood there, staring at the space she had occupied only seconds ago.
Her words echoed in my mind, each syllable sharper than the last.
"I won’t ever like you."
I let out a shaky breath, closing my eyes for a moment, as if that would make the pain lessen.
It didn’t.
Her words never failed to hurt me.
Never failed to remind me of exactly where I stood in her life.
Nowhere.