Chapter 6
967 Words
"I think you've used me enough, lady. Can't let you sniff me like I'm some kind of inhaler."
Unconsciously, I stepped back, releasing him immediately. Ugh, Brielle, how embarrassing can you get?
"Umm... uh... s-sorry," I stammered, looking down. I couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. Not only had I dragged him into my mess, but he’d also caught me shamelessly sniffing him.
I stared at his shoes, unsure of what to say. I couldn’t exactly thank him without giving away that I’d been snooping around.
"Eyes up here, lady."
My heart raced uncontrollably. There was no way I could look into those eyes again—I might never be able to look away. Instead of obeying, I turned and bolted.
"HEY!"
I didn’t stop running until I reached the campus gate. Gasping for breath, I quickly grabbed my phone to call my driver.
"Hello, Kuya Lando... Can you pick me up at the gate? How far are you?"
"I’m close, Señorita," he replied.
"Please hurry, Kuya. Thank you!"
I kept glancing nervously toward the campus entrance, worried that I might see him again. Soon enough, my ride arrived. I opened the car door, but before I could get in, the loud roar of an engine startled me.
A sleek black Chevrolet Camaro passed by, and to my horror, the driver was the same man.
I scrambled into the car, my movements frantic.
"Señorita, are you alright?" Kuya Lando asked, concerned.
"Y-yeah, I’m fine, Kuya. Just really eager to get home," I lied.
When I got home, only Yaya Nimfa was there to greet me. Mom and Tito wouldn’t be back until 5 PM, and Ruiji was either in his room or out with his friends.
I headed straight to my room, flopping onto my bed face-first. Exhausted, I let out a long sigh.
The encounter with the man and his piercing hazel eyes replayed in my mind. Who was he? I’d never seen him around DSU before.
Wait—hazel eyes?
Merry’s words suddenly came rushing back.
I shot up from the bed, grabbed my phone, and logged into f*******:. I quickly searched for his name.
Crixx Tevon Montalgo. Could he be the guy? Please, no.
Two results popped up, but one had the wrong spelling, and the other belonged to a kid.
No f*******: account? Maybe because he grew up in the US. I switched to i********: and, bingo, there he was.
My phone slipped from my grasp as I stared at his profile picture—a side view of his face. Nearly 10 million followers.
Groaning, I picked up the phone again, but not before it smacked me in the face. My nose throbbed. Great, just great.
Scrolling through his account, I noticed most of his photos were candid shots, with each post racking up hundreds of thousands of likes. Many of them featured luxury race cars.
Then I saw it: a close-up photo of him looking directly at the camera. He was perched on the hood of a car, his hazel eyes sharp and captivating, his chiseled jawline adding to his allure.
There was even a faint scar on one eyebrow, giving him an irresistible bad-boy charm. Honestly, why wasn’t this guy a celebrity? He was more famous than most local stars.
I groaned again, rolling around on my bed like a salted slug. What did he think of me now?
I couldn’t stop replaying the day’s events in my mind. Oh, how I wished he’d forget my face. Or better yet, get so swamped with schoolwork that he wouldn’t have time to think about me. If only I could turn back time, I’d never have gone to that spot.
"Lord, help me," I muttered before slapping my cheeks lightly to snap myself out of it. I tried to study for my next lesson, but the words on the page blurred. Frustrated, I smacked the textbook shut.
Thankfully, Yaya called me down for dinner, saying Mom was home and wanted to talk.
When I entered the drawing room, Mom was lounging on the sofa, already dressed comfortably after her shower. Tito was probably in their room or his home office.
"Hi, sweetie. How was school?" she asked, smiling warmly.
I kissed her cheek before sitting across from her. "Good as always, Mom. Thank you."
She nodded, sharing stories about her day at the company.
"Anyway," she said, setting her tea down, "your grandma’s best friend’s granddaughter is getting married this Saturday. Your Lola misses you, so I told her you’d be a bridesmaid. Clear your schedule and attend the wedding."
"But, Mom, I have a recital that day," I protested.
Her brows furrowed. "This is more important, Talia Brielle. I can’t afford to disappoint your Lola again. Besides, it would embarrass her in front of her best friend if you don’t show up."
I sighed in defeat. It’s always been like this since Mom reconciled with Grandma Adelfa.
Mom’s family, the Guevaras, came from old money. When she chose to marry Dad instead of her arranged fiancé, they disowned her. Dad’s family was middle-class, and they couldn’t accept him.
But Mom loved Dad and chose him, even if it meant eloping. Things only worsened when she got pregnant with me, and they officially cut ties with her.
I used to hate them for what they did to Mom, but over time, I realized they were just doing what they thought was best for her.
"Alright, Mom," I said, resigning myself to my fate.
"Good. And please, don’t embarrass me. I’ve already promised them you’d be there."
I nodded, though I couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. Mrs. Merci was counting on me for the recital, but I’d have to let her down. Sometimes, family obligations left no room for personal plans.
- Writer
