CHAPTER 5

The tension between us had been building for weeks, like a pressure cooker ready to explode. The kiss in the hallway had changed everything, even though we both pretended it hadn't. We were still working together, still collaborating on the research project, but now there was an undercurrent of something else—something neither of us dared to name.

It was in the way our eyes lingered a little too long during meetings, the way our hands brushed when we reached for the same book, the way the air between us seemed to crackle with unspoken words. We were walking on a tightrope, and I wasn't sure how much longer we could keep our balance.

---

The morning of before Professor Limuaco's class, I decided to visit my mother. It had been weeks since I'd seen her, and I needed a break from the chaos of campus life—or at least, that's what I told myself. In reality, I was trying to escape the memory of Sanjo's lips on mine, the way his hands had felt on my skin, the way my body had responded to him. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake it.

My mother lived in a small apartment on the outskirts of the city, a place that always smelled like lavender and freshly baked bread. When I walked in, she was in the kitchen, humming softly as she kneaded dough. She looked up and smiled when she saw me.

"Ellie," she said, wiping her hands on her apron. "I wasn't expecting you today."

"I needed a break," I said, dropping my bag by the door. "Campus has been... overwhelming."

She studied me for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You look tired. Are you eating enough? Sleeping?"

"I'm fine, Mom," I said, though the truth was, I hadn't been sleeping well. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Sanjo. Every time I tried to focus on my work, I felt the ghost of his touch on my skin.

"Sit down," she said, gesturing to the table. "I'll make you some tea."

I obeyed, sinking into one of the wooden chairs. The kitchen was warm and comforting, but my mind was elsewhere. I kept replaying the kiss in the hallway, the way Sanjo had pulled me close, the way his lips had felt against mine. It had been angry, desperate, and yet... there had been something else there too. Something I couldn't quite name.

"Ellie," my mother said, setting a cup of tea in front of me. "What's on your mind?"

I hesitated, unsure of how much to tell her. My mother had always been my confidante, but this... this felt too raw, too personal.

"It's nothing," I said, forcing a smile. "Just school stuff."

She didn't look convinced, but she didn't press. Instead, she sat down across from me and sipped her own tea. "You know, you can talk to me and your grandma about anything. Whatever it is, We're here."

I nodded, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words. How could I explain something I didn't even understand myself? How could I tell her that I had kissed my academic rival, that I had let him touch me, that I had wanted more?

"Thanks, Mom," I said finally. "I'll keep that in mind. Please tell grandma I visited." She nod.

We sat in silence for a while, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall. I tried to focus on the tea, on the warmth of the kitchen, on my mother's presence. But my mind kept drifting back to Sanjo, to the way he had looked at me, to the way he had made me feel.

---

By the time I left my mother's apartment, I was no closer to understanding what had happened between Sanjo and me. If anything, I was more confused than ever. But I didn't have time to dwell on it. I had a class to get to, and I knew Sanjo would be there.

The breaking point came during Professor Limuaco's Political Theory class. It was a seminar-style discussion, and the topic was the ethical implications of power dynamics in governance. Sanjo and I had been assigned to lead the debate, as usual. But this time, something felt different. The stakes were higher, the tension thicker.

Sanjo was on fire. His arguments were sharp, his delivery flawless. He was dismantling every point I made with a precision that was both impressive and infuriating. I could feel the class's attention shifting to him, their admiration palpable. Even Professor Limuaco was nodding along, clearly impressed.

I hated it.

"So, Salvacion," Sanjo said, his tone dripping with condescension, "if you're arguing that power dynamics are inherently oppressive, then how do you explain the success of democratic systems that rely on checks and balances? Or are you suggesting that all forms of governance are equally flawed?"

The class chuckled, and I felt my face burn. He was mocking me, and he knew it. I could see the glint in his eyes, the smug satisfaction of someone who knew he had the upper hand.

"I'm suggesting," I shot back, my voice steady despite the anger bubbling inside me, "that power dynamics are complex and context-dependent. Unlike your oversimplified analysis, which seems to ignore the historical and cultural nuances that shape governance."

The room fell silent. Sanjo's smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered.

"Nuance?" he said, leaning back in his chair. "That's rich coming from someone who once argued that Machiavelli was a feminist."

The class erupted in laughter, and I felt my chest tighten. He was bringing up old wounds, throwing my past mistakes in my face just to humiliate me. My hands clenched into fists under the table, and I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

"At least I don't rely on my family name to get ahead," I snapped, my voice cutting through the laughter. "You're just coasting on your privilege, Alcaraz. You wouldn't last a day if you had to work for anything."

The room went dead silent. Sanjo's jaw tightened, and I could see the anger flashing in his eyes. For a moment, I thought he might say something, but he just leaned forward, his voice low and dangerous.

"Careful, Salvacion," he said, his tone icy. "You're treading on thin ice."

"Oh, I'm trembling," I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "What are you going to do, Alcaraz? Run to Daddy?"

The class gasped, and even Professor Limuaco looked uncomfortable. Sanjo's face darkened, and I knew I had crossed a line. But I didn't care. I was tired of his smug superiority, tired of the way he always seemed to have the upper hand.

"That's enough," Professor Limuaco interjected, his voice firm. "Let's keep this discussion academic, please."

Sanjo and I glared at each other, the tension between us so thick it felt like the air itself might shatter. The rest of the class passed in a blur, but I could feel his eyes on me, burning with a mixture of anger and something else I couldn't quite place.

---

After class, I stormed out of the room, my heart pounding. I needed to get away, to clear my head. But before I could make it to the stairs, I felt a hand grab my arm and spin me around.

It was Sanjo.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded, his voice low and furious.

"Let go of me," I hissed, trying to pull away, but his grip tightened.

"You think you can just say whatever you want and walk away?" he said, his face inches from mine. "You think you can humiliate me in front of the entire class and get away with it?"

"You started it," I shot back, my voice shaking with anger. "You always start it, Alcaraz. You can't stand the idea that someone might actually challenge you."

"Challenge me?" he scoffed. "You're not challenging me, Salvacion. You're just throwing cheap shots because you can't handle the fact that I'm better than you."

"Better than me?" I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You're delusional. You're nothing without your family name, your connections, your—"

I didn't get to finish because Sanjo's lips crashed into mine.

It wasn't like the kiss in the hallway. That had been messy, desperate, fueled by exhaustion and frustration. This was different. This was angry, raw, and full of all the pent-up tension that had been building between us for years. His hands gripped my arms, pulling me closer, and I could feel the heat of his body against mine.

For a moment, I froze, too shocked to react. But then something inside me snapped, and I kissed him back just as fiercely. My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and I could feel the anger and frustration pouring out of both of us. It was a battle, a clash of wills, and neither of us was willing to back down.

We stumbled back against the wall, and I could feel the cold brick pressing into my back as Sanjo's hands moved to my waist, gripping me tightly. His lips were relentless, demanding, and I responded with equal intensity. It was like we were trying to outdo each other, to prove something, though I wasn't sure what.

His hands slid up my sides, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, and I gasped against his mouth. He took advantage of the opening, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine. I could feel the anger melting away, replaced by something hotter, more urgent. My fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer, as if I could erase the space between us entirely.

Sanjo's breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling against mine as he broke the kiss just long enough to murmur, "You drive me insane, Salvacion."

"Good," I whispered back, my voice trembling. "Maybe now you'll stop acting like you're better than everyone."

He let out a low growl, his lips crashing into mine again, harder this time. His hands moved to my hips, lifting me slightly so I was pressed even more firmly against him. I could feel the evidence of his desire, and it sent a shiver down my spine. My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and he groaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me.

We were a tangle of limbs and heat, our bodies moving together in a rhythm that felt both new and familiar. His lips left mine, trailing down my jaw to my neck, and I tilted my head back, giving him better access. His teeth grazed my skin, and I gasped, my fingers tightening in his hair.

"Sanjo," I breathed, my voice barely audible.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and intense as they met mine. "Say it again," he demanded, his voice rough.

"Sanjo," I repeated, louder this time, and he kissed me again, his hands sliding under my shirt, his touch sending sparks through me.

We were lost in each other, the world outside forgotten. The anger, the rivalry, the years of tension—it all melted away, leaving only this. Only us.

But then, a sound from down the hallway snapped us back to reality. Sanjo pulled away, his chest heaving, and I slid down the wall, my legs shaky. We stared at each other, both of us trying to catch our breath, the weight of what had just happened settling over us.

"This doesn't change anything," I said, my voice shaky but firm. "We're still rivals."

"Of course we are," he replied, his voice rough. "But maybe we're something else too."

I didn't respond. I couldn't. Because deep down, I knew he was right. This wasn't just about competition anymore. It was about something deeper, something neither of us was ready to admit.

But for now, all I could do was walk away, my heart racing and my mind spinning. Because I knew one thing for sure—this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.