ii. scent

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***

I already know from the moment I entered this classroom my day will be ruined.

I look at the only empty space with despair. What did I do to deserve this? Nag lakad ako papalapit sa upuan. I rolled my eyes when I saw his bag sitting on the empty chair beside him.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked. Thankfully my professor is not yet here kaya pwede akong mag inarte dito.

"Obviously, I have a class here." He answered. His eyes are locked on his phone. From where I'm standing I can see the movements of his thumb on the screen.

"You're a fine arts student," I said. Pinatay niya ang kanyang cellphone at tinaob 'yun sa mesang nasa kanyang harapan.

"So?" I raise a brow at him.

"You sho----"

"Umupo kana dito, huwag ka ng maarte nandiyan na si prof." I bit my lower lip because of annoyance. Inalis niya ang bag sa upuan at padabog akong umupo roon.

Humalumbaba ako at tumingin sa harapan. Kung kailan ayaw ko siyang makita I started to see more and more of him.

Inalis ko ang pagkaka halumbaba at sumandal. I cross my arms and shoot a dagger look on him.

"What?" He mouthed. Inis akong nag alis ng tingin sa kanya at tumingin nalang sa prof namin.

Mabagal ang oras lalo na at boring ang prof na nagtuturo sa harap. I fight the urge to close my eyes. Umupo ako ng maayos and tried to focus sa sinasabi ng guro sa harapan. But I lost my focus the moment a familiar scent run in my nostrils.

As I inhaled the smell like a drug my mind started to wonder about the three-year-old memory I'm trying to bury and forget.

Fuck his existence.

Fuck. His. Smell.

"Baho mo," I said. I glance at him. Tumingin akong muli sa kanya noong inamoy niya ang kanyang sarili.

"'Di naman," he said.

***

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