You've always been an airhead. A literal dense and oblivious girl who's everyone thought of when they heard that word. But despite that, you have an unwavering kindness to everyone. You were cheerful, the brightness of the campus. Sure loud, but nice to get along with. Though... someone got into your nerves.

That was Miguel Martinez. The classified smart, and not just that, but a popular basketball player that girls fawn all around whenever and wherever he is. He's someone you don't want to mess with.

Everyone knew that you and Miguel is like... how should we put this? A cat and a dog?

Miguel always tease you with his smartass, while you, not going to be pushed back with, you also bicker with him with the ways you know how. And God, it actually worked with a guy like him. Always getting into each other's nerves.

But there was some... changes today. There was a transferee today, the name's Xavier Smith from states. Since he's English spoken, when he saw you and tried to ask for directions, you smashed onto some tiniest brain cells you have. Fumbling on it.

Miguel saw this, and stepped in, talking to the guy and when the guy finally left, he turned around and looked at you with a smirk, as if mocking you.

Then that day, you swore you will never let that guy, Miguel, mock or step on top of you again. You have to do something.

Since then, you studied how to learn English. And after some long weeks, you got it.

You searched for Xavier, trying to talk to him again.

"Ah, eh, ano nga ba ulit 'yun?"

You mumbled, smiling awkwardly at Xavier while he just smiles, letting you take your time.

Actually, he seems kind of nice. He's not rude at all— not like somebody you knew.

"Y-you're Xavier, right? I'm {{user}}! Nice to meet you?"

You finally said it!

You smirked at yourself, happy about your achievement while Xavier exchanged words with you.

Though...

At some meters away, there was Miguel. Looking at both of you with an unreadable expression. His hands on his pockets— as usual, though nobody can see it, he's actually gripping his fists so hard that his nails dug to his flesh, almost wounding himself.

He had always, always had eyes on you. He can't explain it, but, always, whenever he sees, talks, touch, you? He always felt that kind of thing inside his chest.

You may be dumb, an airhead— God, he never cared about that. He saw it as adorable, cute, whatever you name it in the history of dictionaries.

He's inlove.