I unwillingly follow. After she finishes writing, she then discusses the lesson a little bit. After that, she calls the classroom president to check our notes.

Minutes have passed and I'm still standing here at the back. My legs are already singing. Though I'm still thankful for Miss Reyes doesn't reprimand me not to carve on the wooden chair, unlike my other subject teachers. If they don't pinch my arm or ears, they hit both my palms with their clog.

Or maybe ... she never noticed me writing on the desk?

Pursing my lips, I switch my sight to the ball pen I got under the table. It's not me. Maybe sitting here every afternoon shift.

I wince at the kiddie design on it. There are even bird feathers and glitters. As a next step, I slightly bend my knees to reach the wooden desk and wrote, 'Eh? Coming from someone who did it too :P '

In the next subjects that follow, I will behave. It's hard. My feet hurts and I don't want to prolong my suffering for the next hours. Well, they still are as I walk to the abandoned building again. I forgot to throw away the aerosol can I used yesterday.

When I found it, I immediately go back and head towards the school's garbage segregation. I need to cross the quadrangle and few buildings to reach it.

I am now passing by the stone pathway together with kiosks on both sides that are filled with loud students. It is noon so I am very grateful to the trees standing on either side of my path.

I toss the can up in the air and catch it when it falls down from the short time of escaping gravity. I saw the group of sophomores who if walking down the pathway felt like they were the only road. I think I can still meet them.

My lips folded into a thin line. They should stop acting like they own the damn hallways, corridors, or the other walking areas just because they're not outnumbered!

When they walk close to me, I threw the aerosol can higher and so they did walk on one side, almost forming a line.

I smirk. Not because I'm alone, I should be the one who's gonna avoid a flock of you at this pathway.

I just laugh at the look others gave me. Sharp. As if I'm affected. My eyes went back to the front. I can already see the garbage segregation from where I am.

It is my adrenaline rush speaking when I quickly run to get there, holding the aerosol can beside my thigh. I am already at the middle of the quadrangle, passing through the sea of students, when a sudden collision happens between me and someone who just appeared out of nowhere.

The force of his broad chest to my frail shoulder causes me to trip. My chest throbbed because I was going to fall!

But as I fall down, he grips my wrist to prevent it.

“Oops, sorry,” I said in a low tone.

My eyes stick to the ground for I am ashamed. I purse my lips when I remember how similar this scenario is to the beginning of highschool romance movies.

"Be careful."

My eyes widened When I heard the familiar voice. It's the deep, not too raspy, calm but quite cold. I rarely hear it but it is already marked in my memory, pierced through my bones, and sunken my self-esteem and love for arts. I will never ever forget. I know very well who it is.

I look up ... only to meet the concern painted on his eyes. My chest begins to heave as rapid thuds are produced by the organ inside it when my guess is proven right. A gap appears between my lips.

Rico.

For I have known, he hates me to the core. The feeling is mutual. He once wounded and embarrassed me by his sharp words while many eyes were watching. I won't forget that time.

I could barely breath as my eyes roam around the details of his face. His clean cut hairstyle gives emphasis to his slightly prominent jawline. The hawkish eyes are more intensed for him to look more strict and the thick eyebrows just make his cognac irises more intense. The not-so-aristocratic nose just suited him very well. His thin lips only match his strictness. It's also noticeable that he's towering over me for he's goddamn tall.

There was a space on my lips. I don’t know what will be processed in the brain first. The detail of his face, the look he gives me, I the memories struggle to come back. I didn't realize that I was staring too much.

With his soulful gaze casted upon me, as if we are inside our own bubble, I feel like we're on the other world despite the walking students that passes by, which at the moment, seem like random fishes in the aquarium. Nonetheless, their murmurs and faint noises can't do anything to burst our bubble.

I gaze intently to his drowning irises, allowing myself to enjoy this once-in-a-blue moon scenario. Wait. What am I doing? What the hell, Freesia? Have you forgotten how you loath him for insulting your passion?

‘I honestly don’t like your art style.’

‘Why did you even think about joining the competition?’

‘So messy. I do not like it.'

And so, continuous waves of past whisper to my ear. I could feel the sweat of my palm because of the tension felt. Tighten the handle on the aerosol can. Back there, I realize what I am holding and who is in front of me - Rico Alvarez from the first section, the Student Council President!

"The effin 'hell," I mutter nervously.

It's not because of the thumping of my heart but because of the possibility that he might send me off to the guidance area!

His head bobs to the other side, defining his jawline. His hawk-liked eyes narrow at me, as if scrutinizing my soul.

Gathering my utmost strength, I run away from him even when my knees feel like jellies the moment he lays his eyes at me too.

Unlike those teen fiction movies, it's not the first time we met. There's no butterflies in my stomach but discomfort. There's no spark against our skin but shivers of past I am still trying to bury six feet deep under the ground. There's no burning of cheeks ... but a tear in my eye.