HURT ME

CHAPTER 3

After that day, I started noticing him everywhere.

Not because he was trying to be seen—but because he always was.

Cidian De Luca didn’t move like other people in school. He didn’t rush between classes, didn’t panic when teachers called his name, didn’t try too hard to fit into conversations. He just existed like rules didn’t apply to him.

And somehow, that made everyone pay attention even more.

Including me.

I hated that part the most.

“Larrah, you’re spacing out again,” my friend Rina said, nudging my arm during lunch.

“I’m not,” I lied automatically, poking at my food.

Rina squinted at me. “You’ve been like that since this morning. Is it a guy?”

My head snapped up. “No.”

Too fast.

She smirked like she already knew the answer. “That’s a yes.”

I didn’t respond. Because arguing would only make it worse, and I didn’t have the energy to explain something I didn’t even understand myself.

Across the cafeteria, I saw him.

Cidian was sitting alone.

Not because no one wanted to sit with him—people did. I saw students glance at him, hesitate, then turn away like they weren’t brave enough to approach.

But he chose the empty table anyway.

He was reading something on his phone, expression calm. Detached. Like nothing around him mattered.

Then suddenly, as if he could feel it, his eyes lifted.

And found me.

Again.

I looked away immediately.

My heart did something annoying in my chest, something I refused to name.

“Okay, I need details,” Rina said, following my gaze. “You know him?”

“No.”

“But he keeps looking at you,” she insisted.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

But even as I said it, I knew it sounded weak.

The rest of the day felt longer than usual. Every time I tried to focus, my thoughts drifted back to him—his voice, his eyes, the way he spoke like he already knew parts of me I hadn’t told anyone.

After class, I stayed behind again. Not because I wanted to, but because going home meant going back to the version of myself I hated surviving as.

The classroom was empty when I finally stood up.

Or so I thought.

“You always stay when everyone leaves?”

I froze.

Of course.

Cidian was sitting on top of a desk near the back, like he had been there the entire time.

“Do you follow me now?” I asked, trying to sound annoyed instead of nervous.

He jumped down slowly. “No. I just notice things.”

“That sounds like stalking.”

He gave a small shrug. “Or awareness.”

I should’ve walked away.

I didn’t.

Instead, I asked, “Why do you keep talking to me?”

That made him pause.

For the first time, he didn’t answer immediately.

He looked at me like he was choosing his words carefully. Like this wasn’t just another conversation to him.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “You don’t look like everyone else here.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It is to me.”

I frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”

He stepped closer, but not too close—just enough that I had to look up slightly to meet his eyes.

“Most people here pretend,” he said quietly. “They smile, they laugh, they act like everything is fine even when it isn’t.”

My throat tightened before I could stop it.

“And you?” I asked.

He didn’t hesitate. “I don’t pretend.”

That answer should’ve been simple.

But it wasn’t.

Because I realized, standing there, that he was right about me too.

I do pretend.

Every day.

“I’m not like you,” I said, softer now.

“I know,” he replied. “That’s why I’m still talking to you.”

Silence filled the room again.

I hated how heavy it felt.

Hated even more that I didn’t want it to end.

“You should stop,” I said finally.

“Why?”

“Because people like you don’t get involved with people like me.”

His expression changed slightly at that. Not anger. Not amusement.

Something more serious.

“And what kind of person are you, Larrah Araneta?”

That question hit harder than I expected.

Because I didn’t have an answer I was proud of.

I looked away.

“I have to go,” I said instead.

I walked past him quickly, expecting him to let it end there.

But before I reached the door, he spoke again.

“Whatever you’re running from,” Cidian said calmly, “it’s already part of you.”

I stopped.

My fingers tightened on my bag strap.

Then I left.

But even outside, even with distance between us, his words stayed.

And for the first time, I didn’t feel like I was just running from something.

I felt like something was slowly starting to follow me back.