Chapter 5
992 Words
Akala ko tapos na.
After that late-night DM exchange, I promised myself I’d draw the line. One playful conversation doesn’t erase the fact that Liam Ramirez still represents the exact varsity culture I called out. Still cocky. Still overhyped. Still dangerous—for my sanity and for my principles.
Pero hindi talaga marunong tumigil ang universe, ‘no?
Because just two days later, a screenshot of his tweet started circulating.
"Funny how some people get clout from pretending to hate what they secretly crave."
No names. No tags.
Pero dahil may pagka-makabayan ang internet pagdating sa drama, ayun—umapoy agad.
"Is he talking about Maxine?"
"OMG subtweet alert!"
"This is about the podcast girl for sure."
And because I had the audacity to retweet an article about performative allyship that same day, the trolls went wild.
"Shots fired."
"Maxine vs. Liam, round two!"
I tried to ignore it. I really did. But the buzz was louder than my Spotify playlists, and even Kai couldn’t resist teasing me.
“Grabe kayo ni Mr. Green Archer,” he said, leaning on our dorm kitchen counter like it was a talk show set. “Ano ‘yan, enemies to lovers in real life?”
I threw a dish towel at her. “Walang lovers. Puro enemy.”
She wiggled her brows. “But you replied to his DM.”
“Because I’m polite.”
“And blushing. Habang polite.”
I groaned. “Kai, I swear, if you don’t shut up—”
But fate wasn’t done laughing at me.
Because less than an hour later, while walking out of the Communications building, juggling my iced coffee and my pride, I saw him.
Standing under the jacaranda tree across the Blue Eagle Gym, laughing with some teammates, sleeves rolled up, backpack slung on one shoulder like a casual poster boy for 'hot-but-troublesome student-athlete.'
Liam f*****g Ramirez.
Nagkatitigan kami.
Not by accident—by instinct.
He smirked first. Of course he did.
Then he walked toward me. Confident. Unbothered. Like the tweet never happened. Like the rumors weren’t boiling online.
I stood my ground, but my heart wasn’t as steady. Putangina, Max, huwag kang i-fall sa slow motion entrance niya.
“Maxine,” he greeted, voice smooth as ever.
“Liam,” I returned coolly, crossing my arms to stop them from shaking. “Did you enjoy your fifteen minutes of Twitter fame?”
His grin widened. “It wasn’t about you.”
I scoffed. “Right. You just happened to post a vague diss after we trended. Total coincidence.”
“You assumed it was a diss,” he said, stepping closer. “Maybe it was an observation. Maybe it was a challenge.”
“Or maybe,” I said, lifting my chin, “it was just your ego looking attention.”
His eyes flickered—amused, entertained. Then his voice dropped just low enough to make me hate how it made my skin prickle.
“If I wanted your attention, Maxine, I wouldn’t need Twitter.”
My heart tripped over itself.
Shit.
I hated that he was good at this.
I hated that I was good at playing back.
“So what would you use?” I asked, leaning in slightly. “Pickup lines? DMs? Or just show up wherever I am and hope I blush?”
He tilted his head, like he was studying me. “Would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Blush.”
I didn’t answer.
Didn’t flinch.
But my silence said enough.
He chuckled, low and rich. “You’re cute when you’re cornered.”
And before I could formulate a comeback—before I could claw back the upper hand—he stepped back and winked.
“See you around, Dela Cruz.”
Then he walked away.
Like he hadn’t just dropped a grenade in my bloodstream.
I stood there, glaring at his retreating back, coffee still in hand, pulse still racing.
This wasn’t a clash anymore.
It was a game.
And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to win.
Or fall.
My fingers tightened around my coffee cup as I watched him disappear into a crowd of green jerseys and flirtatious laughter.
God, I hated that smile.
That stupid, smug, varsity-boy-who-knows-he’s-hot smirk.
But I hated even more that I noticed everything. The way his shirt clung to his shoulders. The low rasp in his laugh. The slight curl in his hair at the nape of his neck.
Tangina. This is how the downfall begins.
I turned on my heel and walked toward the Rizal Library, determined to drown myself in thesis research and not Liam Ramirez's smoldering eyes.
But halfway there, my phone buzzed in my tote.
I ignored it.
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
I sighed, pulled it out.
@LiamR23 replied to your tweet.
My stomach dropped.
No. He wouldn’t.
I opened Twitter, fingers trembling a little, and there it was.
He had quote-tweeted the article I shared earlier with:
"Some people act like they hate the system but forget they benefit from it too. Interesting take though."
OH. MY. GOD.
Ang kapal ng mukha.
Did he just imply I was being hypocritical?
I was fuming. Like pacing-in-my-head, ready-to-write-a-thesis-on-his-bullshit kind of fuming.
I typed a reply.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
Deleted again.
Nope. He’s not getting the satisfaction.
I messaged Kai instead.
Me:
Guess who just poked the bear again.
Kai:
If the bear is you, then Liam is officially suicidal.
Me:
He just quote-tweeted me. He's provoking me in public now.
Kai:
Are we still pretending you're not obsessed with this rivalry?
Me:
I'm not. I'm annoyed. There's a difference.
Kai:
Girl... that's not what your heartbeat said when you saw him kanina.
I turned off my screen.
My own best friend was a traitor.
But I couldn’t lie to myself.
Because that night, while staring at the ceiling and listening to the buzz of Manila traffic outside my dorm window, I caught myself wondering—
Why does he keep poking?
Why does he answer?
Why does he show up?
And why the hell does it feel like we’re not arguing anymore—
- Writer
