Epic Love (Triangle)

Chapter 4

"You going for a snack, babe?" Edward's usual pretending-to-be-cool voice grated in my eardrums as he held out an arm to assist me from all the books I'm carrying.

"No thanks, Ward. Had some stuff to go through." I had to be cold and emotionless while saying this, because Edward, a batch mate and like the rest of his fraternity who saw me being toured around by gorgeous Sir Peter that first day, immediately assumed that, since it was that hunk of a teacher who condescended to me, I must be worth being pursued over.

"Okay. See ya 'round."

I merely nodded, calming down my irritation.

Who said going to college is fun? (Or, rephrase, why am I the only one not having fun?) Pile of books, researches to type and group home works to deal with, not to mention pesky batch mates, are not my idea of a happy-post-teen-period, no sir. I always end up overdraft on my daily allowance sa kaka-xerox, not to mention projects that had me wondering if there's a relation between "project magdala ng tambo" and literature. Only Peter's presence in this school prevented my life from being dreary as hell.

I knew he had a girlfriend, another teacher, or so my batch mates said. But I'd never yet seen the lucky woman and I was not sure if I'd like to see in the first place. Feeling like an idiot thinking about Peter again, I balanced my books on one hand, my bags in the other, just as I was knocked off my feet by a speeding student who didn't bother to stop or even yell 'I'm sorry'.

"Naman!" I could only mutter as books scattered around me. Worse, my glasses which had fallen off now lay on the floor, broken. I squinted my eyes and tried to see the retreating figure of that spawn of the devil who made poise impossible for me. Oh, I'd definitely know him everywhere. What was it with this university that made respect a rather primitive word? I was uttering a string of curses as students helped me gather my things, and I smiled at them gratefully afterwards.

Only to find Peter walking towards me.

Ay, no! Not now! Not like this...!

But, thank heavens, he didn't seem to see me because he merely passed on, not looking at me like old times, clearly lost in thought. I drank on the sight of him retreating somewhere down the hall, feeling my heart send signals to my body that I stand there rooted, my limbs stiff until I had to force myself to move. He really is so gorgeous. I could still see his broad shoulders until he was out of my sight. Only then did I sigh in relief as I made my way to the snack house, angry with myself for not taking up that offer by Edward and thus sparing myself this scandalous scene. Kuu, next time, I wouldn't be so picky.

I heard the familiar strains of my cell phone's ringing alert, and saw my uncle Carl's face flashing through the screen of my iPhone.

I answered on loud speaker mode, trying to patch my glasses with scotch tape which luckily, I had with me. " Tito?"

"Bakit ang tagal mo sumagot? I am busy and I have to--"

Okay. Picture a good-looking uncle who looked like Neo of the Matrix, but with an annoying habit of being almost a nag. I grimaced. "Buti your wife puts up with you. Are you making sermon this early?"

"Don't play adult with me, young woman. What's this I heard from your Dad that you've again switched schools?"

"Sinumbong ako sa 'yo?" I was mildly astonished at this I stopped exactly in front the wide swinging doors. A student nudged me and I stepped aside to let them pass, still dumb. "Repeat that please."

"Your Dad has so much on his hands right now, Tine." I grimaced at the pet name and couldn't resist interrupting.

"It's Shanni."

"Alam mong ginagawa ng Daddy mo lahat para magkaayos kayo kaya 'wag mong abusuhin. Ngayon lang siya bumabawi, you should give him a chance. You switched schools without telling him. Have you lost your respect, ha?"

I rolled my eyes as I entered the place and sat down on an empty seat. Now it's Kristine. Carl only calls me that if he's in full-sermon mode. I tuned out to whatever Carl was saying, making small grumps of approval and finally, when he said goodbye, I nearly sighed aloud in relief. "Bye, Tito."

Somehow I had a fair idea what he said anyway.

My uncle was the only one who really seemed like a friend to me, being just a few years older, and like me, a huge fan of the Houston Rockets. Unlike Dad, Carl had the chance to follow his dreams, as a journalist, while Dad was delegated to the family business, being the eldest son, yet years later he snapped and left for Canada all of a sudden, with another woman, leaving me and my mom in a state of shock and a mountain of debts. He came back after a year, the other woman apparently gone, tried to make amends but it was so, so late. Carl knew I hated my father since, but never failed to lecture me that Dad is still my dad.

I knew that, of course.

Mom had forgiven Dad already but I just wasn't ready. After all, I had Carl to guide me and didn't need my wayward father.

But since Carl's marriage two years ago I was, of course, back to being alone. Now I was again my own company, I thought as my eyes took note of the groups in the other tables, laughing on whatever they found amusing.

Glasses safely scotch-taped, I put them on and was halfway through my merienda when my eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as my brain alarmed 'red alert'.

Rummage, rummage. Oh please, don't let it be lost. But after ten minutes of fruitless search and an avalanche of kikay things on the table, I resigned myself to the fact that it was, indeed, lost.

My notebook.

My notebook with scribbles about Peter, to be specific.

"Waaah! Where is it kaya?" I wailed. I must've lost it when I got collided on earlier. I placed one hand on my chest as if to stop my heart from pounding, because what a good thing that I didn't put my name on it, and Peter in that notebook was Mr. Parker (like in Spiderman. Peter Parker. Drop the Peter.) But to anyone shrewd enough to dissect beneath the words, they'd surely think of Sir Peter what with all my descriptions there. It was just so obvious.

I sat there at the snack house, dejected, feeling for all the world as if Fates have turned against me. My only consolation was my anonymity but still, I hated the idea of anyone learning how Peter is admired so much it's almost hero-worship. And I hated again that others would know Peter through my eyes, because really, I felt I was the only one who looked at him the way I did. Not with the blatant interest of the other girls who lusted after him. Not the curiosity the guys throw him for being such a hunk and still not counting girlfriends. I, Shanni, looked at him like he was my long-lost soul mate. My love in the past, if reincarnations are to be believed.

"Shitty, stupid Shanni!"

Yet no matter how happy I was calling myself names, the fact was undeniable: my notebook is now somewhere in the hands of somebody who just might be laughing so much right now I could only wish he or she would die.