Rivals, Until We Weren't

Chapter 2

𝘚𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘺𝘯𝘢'𝘴 𝘗𝘖𝘝

There are two types of chaos in STEM Polaris.

The normal kind—

The “Ma’am, can we move the deadline?”

The “Guys, sino may extra bond paper?”

The “Stop copying my answers, I swear—” kind.

And then there’s election chaos.

The kind that turns even the quietest students into political analysts.

The kind that makes my name echo around the room like a chant I didn’t sign up for.

By lunch break, the whole campus already knew.

“Si Sol vs. Lucien daw sa presidency.”

“Grabe, clash of titans.”

“Magkakabuwisitan ‘to, feeling ko.”

The worst part?

They weren’t wrong.

I sat on the bench outside the library, trying to breathe as Yssa flipped open her notebook like a campaign strategist in a telenovela.

“Okay,” she said, clicking her pen dramatically. “First step. We need your platform.”

“I don’t even know if I want to run,” I whispered.

Yssa paused.

Then she raised a brow so high it nearly floated away.

“Sol,” she deadpanned. “You were practically born for this. You organized half of the council’s projects. You cleaned up the mess left by last year’s officers. You wrote the best minutes in the history of minutes.”

“That is not a real achievement—”

“It is when no one could read the previous secretary’s handwriting!”

I groaned, leaning back. “I just… I don’t want people to think I’m running because Lucien is.”

Yssa clicked her tongue. “You’re running because you deserve it. Kung gusto mo, gusto mo. Period.”

I swallowed.

She made it sound so simple.

But nothing involving Lucien was ever simple.

Before I could reply, someone dropped their bag heavily on the bench behind me.

I didn’t need to turn around.

I recognized the shift in the air.

“Velasco.”

I closed my eyes.

Of course.

Of course he’d appear the moment I was trying to convince myself to stay calm.

I turned slowly.

Lucien stood there, holding two folders red for him, blue for me. Classic. His uniform sleeves were rolled up, revealing the veins on his forearm.

Great. Just great. Like I needed more distractions.

He extended the blue folder toward me.

“Campaign guidelines,” he said, voice annoyingly smooth. “Thought you might want your copy.”

I raised a brow.

“And why do you have mine?”

“Ma’am Torres gave both to me. I offered to deliver yours.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Because I knew you’d want to start planning immediately.”

Yssa elbowed me, whispering loudly, “He knows you too well—”

I stepped on her foot.

Lucien watched, amused. “So? You running?”

I tightened my grip on the folder.

“Yes.”

Something flickered in his expression.

Something like satisfaction.

Or anticipation.

“Good,” he said softly.

I hated how my stomach flipped.

But before he could say anything else, a group of students his supporters called him from across the courtyard.

“Lucien! Meeting for the campaign!”

He nodded at them, then turned back to me.

“Good luck, Sol,” he said.

My heart skipped.

Then he smirked.

“But not too much.”

He walked away with that confident stride that screamed I already know I’m winning.

I exhaled sharply.

“Ugh! I hate him.”

Yssa snorted. “Sure you do.”

“I do!”

“Then why are you blushing?”

“I— YSSA—”

But she was already laughing, notebook shaking in her hands.

I groaned and hid my face behind the folder.

This was bad.

This was very, very bad.