You're Making Me Crazy, Professor [COMPLETED]

Prologue

I didn’t even realize I had already arrived at the bar. Napailing na lang ako habang naupo sa dulo ng counter, letting out a deep sigh. Of all the places I could’ve gone to, why is it always here? Maybe because the comfort that I have been always looking was always here.

    
     
I stared at the drink in front of me, swirling the amber liquid before taking a slow sip. I should stop, but it hurts. Why does it have to be like this?

   
   
"I’m known as a playgirl, but I didn’t expect you to change me so much, Miss," I thought to myself, the words bitter on my tongue. 

  
   
It’s funny. I like making people fall for me—it’s a game. It’s exciting. I make them want me, only to leave them hanging. It’s what I do. But now, why does it feel like I’m the one who lost? Why am I the one suffering? 

   
  
I chuckled bitterly, shaking my head. How ironic. Before, one shot was enough to forget everything. But tonight, no amount of alcohol seems to drown the pain of wanting someone I can’t have. 

   
   
She's the first person I truly liked. She's the one who made me feel what it’s really like to love someone in the deepest way possible. She taught me how love works and how it can change everything.
    
     
    
But I realized that love isn’t just about happiness, sparks, and good things—it’s also about the pain you experience along the way. That not everyone you like or admire will reciprocate the way you feel about them. And sometimes, you just have to learn to accept it.

     
    
I downed another shot, feeling the burn in my throat. This isn’t working.

    
  
And then—just as I was about to order another drink—she appeared. 

    
  
I froze. 

    
   
My breath hitched the moment I saw her. Standing there, looking effortlessly gorgeous, as if the universe was mocking me. Is this a coincidence? A dream? Or just another cruel joke?

  
    
"Gomez, that’s enough. Let’s go home. Your sister sent me," she said, her voice cutting through the noise of the bar like a melody I could never forget. 

    
   
I scoffed, forcing out a smirk even though my chest felt like it was caving in. “Stop pretending you care. Let me go,” I snapped, trying to act tough, even though deep down, all I wanted was to believe she really did. 

     
 
“Gomez, don’t make me repeat myself.” 

   
  
I raised a brow, leaning back slightly. “And what if I don’t want to? What will you do, Miss? Hmm?” 

     
 
She sighed, obviously frustrated. But somehow, she still looked stunning even when she was annoyed. 

      
 
"Let’s go. Stop being stubborn," she said, reaching for my hand. 

    
  
I let out a dry chuckle before shaking my head. She really doesn’t get it, does she?

    
     
"I’m going crazy because of you," I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them. 

     
 
Her brows furrowed. “You’re talking nonsense. Please, let’s go,” she urged gently, her voice softer this time. 

     
 
But I just smirked, trying to mask the desperation clawing at my chest. “I don’t want to, Miss,” I said, testing her, pushing her—like I always do. 

     
 
She sighed, exasperated. “Fine. Go home by yourself. I don’t care.” 

     
 
She turned to leave, but before she could walk away, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. Our faces were inches apart, my breath mingling with hers. 

      
 
“What the—” she began, but I cut her off with a kiss. Her lips tasted like strawberries, sweet and intoxicating.

     
  
She struggled, her hands pushing against my chest. “G-Gomez, s-stop, p-please,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. 

       
   
But I held on, deepening the kiss, wanting—needing—just this one moment. 

    
  
Then—SLAP.

    
 
Pain exploded on my cheek, but it wasn’t enough to snap me out of my haze. 

      
  
“I-i hate you! You know I have a boyfriend, Gomez. I won’t forgive you!” she shouted, her voice raw with anger.

     
  
Another slap. This time, harder. 

    
 
And then she was gone, storming out of the bar, leaving me standing there like a complete idiot. 

     
 
I let out a bitter chuckle, touching my stinging cheek. 

    
 
"You are indeed making me crazy, Professor," I muttered under my breath, the taste of strawberries and the sting of her slap a haunting reminder of what I could never have.