Chapter 2: School
1518 Words
Gelo:
I guess life never gets better.
It's been two days since I came back and questions from everyone just keep coming. How great is that?
John Angelo Lee, seventeen-years-old.
I read my profile.
At eighteen, I abandoned my life for love, and then I had to come back for it because love did not want my presence. I can't help but get so frustrated with everything.
"I thought you'd stay there to finish school. "What happened?" Jeff asked, his voice slicing through the silence. I didn’t answer and just continued what I was doing.
Again. Questions just keep on coming.
"I also thought staying home would save me from answering your questions," I silently said.
We're at home. My two best friends had been badgering me with questions since they got here.
Filter, crop, move.
"Maybe he has to finish editing those..." Mitch guessed.
Even my family doesn’t know what happened to me over there, and they’re not even sure if they should ask.
"Use your brain, Mitch. If that's the only reason, I don't have to come back and waste money just to edit photos. I'd do it over there!"
Auto retouch, filter, scenery.
"Yeah? Then, why is he here doing this?"
Last photo.
My sister attached instructions for this set, so I read through them carefully. There was even a note:
PS: Angelo, this photo is important. I wanted to do it myself, but I have another event that needs my attention. Good thing you asked for work—even if I still don’t know your reason.
Truth is, she didn’t assign this to me. I asked her for it.
“Hey? So why?” Jeff presses again.
Tsk.
I spin my computer chair and give them both a sharp look.
“We’re not scared of you,” Mitch says, completely unfazed.
Tsk. I turned back and continued editing.
Alright… filter—
“Come on, talk, bro!”
Seriously? Are they planning to nag me all day?
I keep editing, ignoring them.
“Are you going back to America after that?” Mitch asks.
I faced them again, this time with a blank stare.
“No. I’m staying. And if you two can’t shut up, get out. I’m working. I need peace.”
I heard them both heave a sigh.
"Alright, let's go. Don't want to talk about it, fine!" Mitch huffs, finally leaving.
I breathe out in relief.
Everything keeps flashing on repeat in my head already. God knows how much I wanted to erase her memory in me, and I just can't.
So the last thing I want right now is to talk about it...
Rubbing my face with both hands, I glanced at the window.
“It’s going to rain again,” I say flatly to the person behind me.
“Son, mind telling me what’s wrong? "I can’t stand not asking anymore,” Mom says gently.
I turn and give her a small smile, even if it’s forced.
"Ma, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me," I say, turning back to my work.
Who am I kidding?
I’m not fine.
“Your class starts tomorrow. Don’t sleep late. Goodnight," she sighs, patting my shoulder before leaving.
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Finally, back to the school where in every corner I went, I'd see her face, like a nightmare I had to endure.
Watson International University.
Where every course you can imagine, they have one.
"Mr. John Angelo Lee?" a bespectacled woman called.
“Yes,” I answered.
“The dean’s waiting for you. Follow me.”
When we reached her office, she knocked and entered.
“Ma’am, he’s here,” she announced, holding the door open. I stepped inside—only to see we weren’t alone.
“Take a seat, Mr. Lee,” the dean said. I slouched into the chair.
“Since you two are three weeks late, I’ll be meeting with you once a week.”
“Why?” the girl across from me asked.
Late enrollee, huh.
“Because you’re late. Is that a problem, Ms. Davison?” the dean shot back.
I stayed silent until I’d heard enough.
"I’m wasting my time here, is that all?" I asked, standing.
They both looked at me.
“Yes. And… you two will be partners for the whole semester. No why’s, no but’s. "You should go now,” the dean said.
"Miss Davison, Mr. Lee—if I don’t see you together in school, or if I find you’ve taken a different buddy, you’ll both be kicked out. Bye.”
Fine by me, as long as she doesn’t get in my way.
“Damn it!” the girl cursed.
By the looks of her, she's trouble.
She walked in like she owned the air.
No smile, no rush—just that quiet, lethal calm that makes the room drop a degree. Her gaze barely touched me, but my pulse reacted like she had pulled the trigger.
I have a friend exactly like her.
As I said, she is danger. But she's interesting.
We walked out, passing the assistant who handed us folders.
“That’s your schedule. Just a warning—”
“Spare me the nonsense. I’m not here for your rules,” she snapped, shutting the woman down without even blinking.
I tilted my head to catch her sharp, daring expression—like she already owned the room. Made me smirk before I even realized it.
I kept walking, pretending to focus on finding our classroom, but I knew she was there. No footsteps, no sound—just that weight of her presence trailing me. Like a predator that didn’t need to chase… because she knew I’d eventually turn around.
“Name.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a command, sharp and precise, like a blade pressed into my throat.
I turned, ready to tell her to back off, but then I saw her eyes—dark, unblinking, steady.
She didn’t look curious. She looked like she was deciding whether I was worth the trouble of killing.
“What?” I muttered.
“I asked for your name.”
Her voice was calm. Too calm. Like she already knew she’d get it out of me one way or another.
I didn’t answer.
She stepped closer—no rush, no wasted movement—just a predator closing in.
“You’ve got three seconds,” she said, almost lazily. “Then I stop asking.”
Something in her tone made my chest tighten.
She wasn’t bluffing.
Her gaze didn’t waver.
Three seconds passed.
Nothing happened.
That was worse.
Because she didn’t look impatient. She didn’t even look disappointed. She just… waited, like the longer I stayed quiet, the more I was proving her point about me.
I hated that.
“Gelo,” I said finally, my voice coming out lower than I intended.
One corner of her mouth lifted—just a fraction, but enough to feel like she’d won something.
Not a victory she needed… just one she expected.
“Good,” she said, turning her back on me without another word, as if I was no longer worth her attention.
And somehow, that felt more dangerous than if she’d kept looking.
She walked off like she owned the hallways.
Not in a loud, look-at-me way—more like she knew no one would dare block her path.
I stayed where I was for a few seconds. Not because I was stunned or anything dramatic. I just… wanted to see if she’d actually look back.
She didn’t.
That made me smirk.
She really thought I’d either follow right away or not at all. And maybe she was right, but I wasn’t about to let her think she could read me that easily.
I started walking. Slow. Hands in my pockets.
Not chasing her. Not catching up. Just close enough so if she turned, she’d know I was still there—but far enough to make it seem like I could change my mind any second.
She never turned around.
Which meant one thing.
She already knew I would.
By the time we reached the corner, she finally slowed down.
Didn’t look at me—just said, “Took you long enough.”
“Wasn’t in a hurry,” I said, keeping my tone flat.
She glanced sideways, just a flick of her eyes, like she was checking if I was worth the conversation.
“You walk like you’re waiting for someone to stop you.”
“And you walk like you think you’re leading.”
That got a hint of a smile from her. Barely there, but enough to tell me she liked the game.
“I am leading,” she said.
I tilted my head. “Are you sure? ’Cause last I checked, I was the one deciding if I’d keep walking.”
She let out a short laugh, but not the warm kind—it was the type that said, Alright. You can play.
And just like that, we were side by side.
Not because she slowed down, not because I sped up.
We just… ended up matching steps.
- Writer
