When I stepped onto campus Monday morning, I should've expected it.
The whispers.The stolen glances.The not-so-subtle giggles from classmates who thought they were being discreet.
But no, I had walked into Maharlika like it was any ordinary day—until I spotted Abednigo waiting under the acacia tree near the gate. Again.
He was impossible to miss. Tall, neat uniform, glasses catching the sunlight. He didn't slouch or scroll through his phone like everyone else. He just stood there, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on me.
And then he smiled.
Not a wide grin. Not a smirk. Just a quiet, sure smile, like I was the only one he'd been waiting for.
Which, technically, I was.
"Good morning," he said when I reached him.
"Morning," I muttered, acutely aware of the eyes on us.
"Did you sleep well?"
I shot him a look. "Why are you asking like we're in a drama script?"
He chuckled softly, but didn't answer. Instead, he fell into step beside me as we walked to our building.
That's when the whispers started.
"Are they…?""Since when?""No way, Seira?""She's always with him lately…"
My shoulders tensed. I hated rumors. They always twisted into something unrecognizable, then came back to slap you in the face.
I turned to Abednigo, ready to snap, "See? This is exactly why I didn't want to—"
But his face was calm. Almost bored. As if the gossip didn't touch him at all.
"Let them talk," he said simply, as if reading my mind.
I blinked at him. "…You don't care?"
"No. Do you?"
"Yes," I hissed under my breath.
"Then I'll handle it," he said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
And just like that, he walked into class, leaving me standing there with my indignation half-formed in my throat.
By the time I entered the classroom, the air felt heavier than usual. Two of my friends, Denise and Carla, waved me over.
"Girl," Denise whispered dramatically, leaning in. "What is going on with you and Rodriguez?"
"Nothing," I said quickly, sliding into my chair.
Carla raised her brows. "Nothing? Because he's been waiting for you every day. Walking with you. Smiling at you. That's not nothing."
I rolled my eyes. "We're just… trying something."
"Trying what?"
Before I could answer, Abednigo walked past and set his bag neatly on his desk. Without hesitation, he looked at me and said, "Seira, want me to save you a seat in the library later?"
Every head in the room turned.
I felt my soul nearly left my body. "I—uh—"
"Yes," he finished smoothly, not even waiting for my response.
The class erupted into muffled laughter and whispers. Denise covered her mouth to stifle a squeal, while Carla gave me the world's most judgmental side-eye.
I wanted to sink into the floor.
The library was quiet, but not quiet enough to erase my humiliation.
"You didn't have to say that in front of everyone," I whispered furiously across the table.
"Say what?" he asked, eyes on his book.
"'Save you a seat.' Do you realize how that sounded?"
He looked up, completely unbothered. "Accurate?"
I groaned. "You're going to ruin my reputation."
His lips curved faintly. "By saving you a seat?"
"By making it look like—like this is real!"
He studied me for a long moment, and for once, I couldn't read his expression. Then he leaned back in his chair. "Isn't that the point? To try acting like it is?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Curse him. He had a point. I forgot that we had to act like an actual couple.
At lunch, it got worse.
Denise and Carla practically dragged me to sit with them, and of course, Abednigo followed. He sat right beside me, placed his neatly packed lunchbox on the table, and without a word, set an extra spoon on top.
"For you," he said.
I froze. "…What?"
"You like chicken skin, right? I packed some."
My friends' jaws dropped. "HE KNOWS YOUR FAVORITE FOOD?"
I glared at him, but my stomach betrayed me with a loud growl. Heat crept up my neck as I reluctantly accepted the spoon.
The chicken skin was crispy, perfectly seasoned. Not too oily. My treacherous heart melted a little.
"Good?" he asked softly.
I avoided his gaze. "…Not bad."
Carla elbowed Denise under the table, and both of them giggled like twelve-year-olds at a sleepover.
By the end of the day, I was drained. My friends wouldn't stop asking questions, my classmates kept staring, and Abednigo… well, Abednigo just kept being Abednigo. Calm. Steady. Unshakeable.
As I walked home alone that night, I found myself chewing on one stubborn thought:
Why didn't he care what people thought, when I cared so much?
And why did his indifference… make me feel safer?
That night, I opened my journal and scribbled messily across the page:
[Day 3. I don't know what I agreed to. He's infuriating. He doesn't flinch when people talk. He doesn't explain himself. He just… does what he says he will. And maybe that's why I can't stop noticing him. Maybe that's the problem.]
I stared at the words until the ink smudged under my palm. Then I slammed the notebook shut, my heart pounding louder than I wanted to admit.