I Won't Be Swayed
"This school is huge… Where could the Education Department be?" Carmen muttered to herself with a sigh. "It's fine. I'll just ask around."
She walked up the stairs of the first building she passed.
"But… why are there only boys around here?" she wondered silently.
She approached a guy walking by. "Excuse me, what building is this?"
The guy looked at her. "Engineering Department. Why, what's your course?"
"Education," Carmen replied briefly.
She observed him, pleasant face, warm brown skin, about 5'7" in height.
"Ah, that explains it. You must be a freshman?" the guy teased. "It's over there, at the far end on the right. By the way, I'm Arnold Bayola. Second year, Agriculture, majoring in Botany. Plants, plant diseases, fish farming… that kind of stuff."
Carmen smiled. "I'm Carmen Dela Cruz. Thanks. I better go now, I don't want to be late for my first class."
"See you around," Arnold said with a smile that hinted he wanted to say more.
When Carmen entered the classroom, the professor had already started the discussion. She quietly walked to the back so she wouldn't draw attention.
"What's your name?" whispered a girl who tapped her arm.
Carmen turned to look. The girl was stunning—chinita features, fair skin, long shiny hair, and a slender figure. She was beautiful, Carmen thought.
"Carmen," she whispered back.
"I'm Cheska," the girl said with a charming smile.
After class, their Math teacher, Mrs. Santos, gave a quick orientation.
Cheska nudged her again. "You know, we've got a classmate who looks like a celebrity—super handsome!" she whispered, pointing to the guy sitting in front.
He turned around.
Oh my God…
Tristan Ibañez.
The same Tristan from elementary school. The heartthrob of their former school—tall, fair-skinned, clear complexion, mysterious eyes, and naturally red lips. On top of that, he was smart and rich.
But Carmen had no intention of falling for that guy. Arrogant. Rude.
It's like fate kept pushing them together. Always classmates. Is he following me? Please. Girl, don't flatter yourself.
She remembered the moment she completely changed her opinion about Tristan.
Grade 5. Their classmate was Digna, smart and pretty, though a little skinny. One day, Carmen saw Digna trying to talk to Tristan.
"Tristan, your bag might get stepped on. Or someone might lose something in it," Digna said gently.
Tristan stayed silent. He didn't even glance at her.
"Tristan?" Digna repeated, more unsure now.
Carmen had had enough. "You know what, Digna? Just let it go. He's like a mute pretending to be deaf," she snapped.
Tristan looked at her. "I heard her. I just don't want to talk to her. Talking to her is pointless."
"Well, we don't want to talk to you either!" Carmen shot back, rolling her eyes and pulling Digna away.
In high school, Digna transferred schools, but Carmen and Tristan remained classmates. More and more girls hovered around Tristan—trying to get his attention, giving letters, chocolates, and gifts.
But he ignored them all. Every letter and gift went straight to the trash. Tristan couldn't care less about admirers.
Then one day, Carmen had a heavy period while at school. Her skirt got stained. In the restroom...
"What do I do now… how can I walk out like this?" she whispered, panicking. "I'll just walk fast. I need to go home."
As soon as she stepped out, someone grabbed her wrist.
She almost screamed—it was Tristan.
"What's your problem?!" she snapped, pulling her hand back.
He held out his jacket. "Wear this."
"What am I supposed to do with that?" Carmen asked, frowning.
Without another word, Tristan wrapped the jacket around her waist. He couldn't look her in the eye. He seemed awkward.
"I'm going home. I don't need this," she said coldly.
"Just give it back tomorrow when it's clean," Tristan replied. "Want me to walk you home?"
"No need. Thanks." And she walked away.
The next day, when she arrived at school, she saw Tristan by the gate. She was about to return the jacket when another girl approached him first.
"Tristan, this is for you," she said, handing him a photo album—full of his pictures.
Tristan was stunned. "Where did you get these? Have you been taking pictures of me?"
The girl nodded. "Yes, because I idolize you."
Tristan raised an eyebrow. "You do know that's wrong, right? You're a stalker."
"She worked hard on that," the girl's friend said. "At least give her some respect."
"I don't care. Throw it away!" Tristan snapped.
Once again, Carmen was reminded of how rude he could be. I'm not going to talk to him anymore. I'll just put the jacket on his desk later.
That afternoon, after class, Carmen went to the library to work on an assignment.
Someone approached.
"Carmen," called a familiar voice.
Tristan. Again.
"What is it? Your jacket's already on your desk. Thanks," she replied coldly.
Tristan sat down. "Do you have plans later?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Can I invite you to a group study? Sam and the others will be there."
Carmen stood and picked up her things. "Sorry. I can't."
Tristan gently held her arm. "Wait. I just want to talk to you—properly."
"What do you want to say?" she asked, irritated.
"Why are you avoiding me? Did I do something wrong?"
"I'm not avoiding you. I'm just busy. I don't have time for whatever you're thinking."
The librarian noticed the tension.
"If you two are going to argue, take it outside. Not in the library," Mrs. Alcantara said sternly.
"Sorry, ma'am," Carmen said quietly, then left the library. Tristan followed.
"Carmen—"
"Stop following me. I'm not interested."
Tristan went quiet. "Alright. Maybe next time, when you're ready."
At that moment, Carmen made a decision.
Three days passed since they last spoke. Carmen kept quiet in class. She avoided Tristan's gaze. Every time he tried to approach, she'd walk away.
But one day, as she was heading home from the library, Tristan showed up again—blocking her path.
"Carmen," he said.
She closed her eyes for a second. He still hasn't given up?
"Please. If you'll allow it, just give me five minutes. I won't leave until you hear me out."
Carmen took a deep breath. "Five minutes. Go."
Tristan cleared his throat, visibly struggling. "I don't know how to start this… but I want to apologize. For everything. For being rude. For ignoring people. For hurting others—even if I didn't mean to."
Carmen stayed silent.
"I didn't mean to hurt Digna back then. I was just... closed off. I didn't know how to talk to people. I'm not who you think I am."
"Why are you telling me this now?" Carmen's voice was still cold. "If you think your drama will affect me, Tristan, you're wrong. I don't want trouble. I don't want headaches. I have my own battles. I don't need you."
Tristan smiled not his usual smug smile, but a bitter one.
"I know. And I won't force you. But I hope someday… you'll see me as a person. Not just 'Tristan the jerk.' Maybe one day, when you're ready… we can start again. Even just as friends."
Carmen turned and walked away.
As she walked, her chest felt heavy. She didn't know if it was from exhaustion or the confusing emotions she couldn't name.
But the truth was… she never expected Tristan to speak from the heart.
"This is our last conversation," she told herself. "No matter what he does, I won't be swayed. I don't want trouble. I don't want pain. Study first."