Sophia
I felt utterly crestfallen when Liam didn't text. He didn't even accompany me out of the university premises.I shouldn't be upset because my words and actions pushed him away.
So to distract myself, I fixated all my attention on my academics. As usual.
Tuesday morning rolled in.
Being the second day of the first semester, it was time for the student body to avoid absences.
An announcement was made that all freshmen were required to join a minimum of one school club up to a maximum of at least three. Each section was provided sign-up sheets by their advisers.
We were given forty five minutes to pore over our decisions.
"Hey, Pie, how many are you signing up for?" Spencer asked without glancing up from her paper.
I tapped the head of my black pen against my bottom lip, pondering over the long list of clubs.
"Perhaps two," I answered after a beat of pensive silence. My brown eyes skimmed the menu of choices, and I found myself jotting down a couple of clubs that piqued my interest.
Spencer leaned over my desk to check what I wrote down. Her dark eyes clicked with delight.
"Creative Writing Club and the Student Council? Those are pretty heavy duties, Pie. Everyone knows the former is just another name for the Orion Arrow, the school paper. And do you have any experience is educational politics?" my black-haired friend asked me.
A cryptic smile grazed my lips. I looked at Spencer. "I do," I answered modestly. Then I said:
"I used to be president of my batch in high school, and I love to read and write."
Spencer gave me a supportive pat on the shoulder. "Then you have my vote."
"Don't vote for me because I'm your friend," I scolded her. "You vote for someone because they're suitable for the job and they have the skills of a true leader."
The brunette with freckles smiled sheepishly. "Okay, okay." She glanced at her paper again.
"So you're vying for student council president, I see," a familiar voice crowed.
I stifled my laughter as I looked to my right. Sitting in the other end of the row was Hanna.
If I were Stacy, Hanna Mendoza would have gotten on my nerves by now. But me being me, I found her competitive streak endearing, and she and I motivated each other to strive for greatness.
"Yes, I am, Hanna," I told the long-haired girl in square glasses.
She looked taken aback by my perkiness. She composed herself and scribbled her clubs.
"Hey, did you girls hear?" Jennifer Padilla whispered from behind me. She was an amiable student and teenager, the Miss Congeniality of our section. Everyone loved her friendliness and pleasing personality. And she always sported her caramel hair in a long braid.
"Hear what?" Spencer prompted after writing down her club choices. The two of us swiveled in our wooden chairs to get a better view of Jen's piece of information. She looked giddy.
"I heard through the grapevine that two hunks who didn't attend class yesterday are attending it today, and one of my girl friends said that they were extremely hot, every girl they passed would swoon and fan herself dramatically!" she said between dreamy giggles.
"Are they British?" Spencer asked offhandedly.
"What? No. They're half American, half Asian, like Sophia's sister."
My brown orbs immediately flew on Jennifer's face. It didn't take long for word about Stacy to spread like wildfire. My twin had always been the source of heated gossip, and she always handled it without much strain.
"I've lost interest." Spencer turned her back on Jen. "English men are more my type."
The nosy journalist inside of me told me to pry for more answers. So I did.
"By any chance, did you get their names or majors?" I inquired Jennifer.
Her shoulders sagged a bit. "Their names? No. But one of them is in Business Administration, and from what I've garnered, he's super charming and undoubtedly handsome." She swooned.
Mr. Business Ad, I decided to call him in my mind. I wondered if he would make a good character for a new story I'm tentatively cooking up inside my imagination. I loved making fictional stories.
And not a lot of people knew, but I've already had two books published a few years ago.
I wrote under the pseudonym S. Green, to remain anonymous. Everyone loves a little mystery, and the alias I concocted made it hard to decipher whether the author was male or female.
To my euphoria, both novels were bestsellers, and I was on the brink of a third book, though it lacked the kind of spicy originality I usually put into my plots and characters.It needed polishing.
Our adviser, Mrs. Jordan, collected our sheets of paper and compiled them into one neat stack.
"Alright, I need one student to submit these to the principal's office in the Finance and Economics building, because I have to run a quick errand right now. Who will it be?"
There was a scarcity of volunteers, but I was already raising my right arm in the air.
Mrs. Jordan clapped eyes with me. She smiled with dignity and respect. I smiled back.
"Okay, Miss Sta. Ana, you may do it," she told me while transferring the stack to my hands.
"Kiss up," a girl's voice muttered. I knew it was Hanna. She was chided by our teacher.
I rose from my wooden seat and purposefully strode out of the classroom, out of the building and into the next one. It was as equally intimidating and sophisticated,as expected.
"One of the things I like about you,Sophia? You find everything superior but you're blind to the fact that so many people look up to you and rely on you.And I admire that about you."
I angrily shook my head to erase his dialogue from my mind. I knew I was doomed, though, because while my brain could shrug away his words, the memory of him would perpetually be etched inside my heart. And I hated him for the mark he carved on my life.
Drowning in my stupor, I wasn't watching my path, and I suddenly collided with someone in the hallway. The impact of the collision was so strong I fell to the ground in an agonizing thud.
Sheets of paper flew in different directions.
"Ouch," I mumbled, rubbing at my left thigh. My bum had cushioned my fall.
The person I crashed into apologized profusely. "I'm so sorry," he said while he hurriedly stood on one knee and reached for all the papers, arranging them neatly and with caution.
"No, it was my fault," I told him in an embarrassed voice, and I tried to reach for the other papers but he had already organized them in one immaculate stack. He was fast and helpful.
"Let me?" the black-haired guy asked, and I stared at his extended hand.
Mildly dazed, I tucked my hand into his, and the stranger pulled me up from the tiled floor.
It took me a while but I began to notice his voice. It was so.. youthful. So full of life and warmth.
If I could describe his voice and personality in one way, it would be like morning rain in a forest. Majestic, soothing, and therapeutic. Everything about him screamed light and pure sincerity.
"Are you okay?" he asked me, assessing my clothes and limbs. "Any wounds or scratches?"
I tore my eyes away from his, even though they were the richest chocolate shade I ever set my eyes on. I couldn't waste the day getting lost in his eyes. I cleared my throat and spoke.
"Yes, I am okay. And I'm not injured," I told him.
The handsome stranger forked over the bundle of papers to me. I gave him my gratitude.
"You're welcome, Miss..?"
"Sophia," I supplied, and we shook hands. "Sophia Sta. Ana."
He seemed to revel in my name for a brief moment. And without preamble, I was rewarded with the most heartwarming smile I ever saw on someone's face.
"I'm Lucas De Los Reyes."