June 15.
Isang bagong simula, pero bakit pakiramdam ko, stuck pa rin ako sa title page?
I opened my leather-bound diary—the one with the gold initials "CC" embossed on the cover. It was a gift from Marcus last Christmas, but he didn’t know that every page of it was practically a shrine to his best friend.
Dear Diary,
Today is the first day of my senior year. 22 na ako. Supposedly, adult na. Graduate na dapat sa mga "puppy love" at high school crushes. Pero bakit ganoon? Isang sulyap ko pa lang sa kaniya kanina habang nag-aagahan sila ni Kuya sa baba, feeling ko bumalik ako sa pagiging 17. Isang "Good morning, Caroline" lang niya, nakalimutan ko na kung paano huminga nang tama.
He’s becoming more handsome as he ages. It’s unfair. 27 na siya, a respected professor, and here I am... still the girl who hides behind her cereal bowl.
I closed the diary and sighed, leaning my head against the cool glass of my bedroom window. Outside, the morning sun was hitting the pavement of our driveway. I saw Luke’s car—a sleek, silver sedan that looked exactly like him: polished, quiet, and expensive.
"CC! Bababa ka ba o hihintayin mo pang amag-in 'yang omelette mo rito?" sigaw ni Kuya Marcus mula sa dining room.
"Pababa na!" I shouted back, checking my reflection one last time.
I chose a simple white sundress and light makeup. I wanted to look fresh, but not like I tried too hard. That was the struggle with having a crush on someone like Lucas Arisgado. You want him to notice you, but you’re terrified of what happens if he actually does.
As I descended the stairs, the scent of brewed coffee and toasted bread filled my senses. And then, I saw him.
Luke was sitting across from Marcus, his laptop open beside his plate. He was wearing a charcoal gray button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the veins on his forearms—a detail I had accidentally memorized over the years. He was looking at some papers, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"Good morning," I said, my voice slightly higher than usual.
Marcus looked up and grinned. "Morning, Brat. Late ka na naman nagising. Puyat sa Netflix?"
"Hindi, ah. Nag-aayos lang," I muttered, sitting down at the far end of the table.
Then, Luke shifted his gaze. His eyes, sharp yet surprisingly warm behind his spectacles, met mine. A small, polite smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Good morning, Caroline," he said.
My heart did that annoying skip-hop-jump thing. Only he called me that. To the world, I was CC. To my family, I was "the brat" or "Chastity." But when Luke said Caroline, it sounded like a secret. It sounded like a melody I wanted to put on repeat.
"Coffee?" he offered, reaching for the pot.
"Oh, no... I mean, yes. Black please. Thank you, Kuya Luke," I stammered.
The "Kuya" felt like a lie on my tongue. It was a safety net, a way to hide the fact that I spent my nights writing poems about the way his hair falls over his forehead.
"You're starting your Lit subjects today, right?" Luke asked, pouring the coffee with a steady hand. "I heard you got the advanced poetry elective."
I nodded, gripping my mug like a lifeline. "Yeah. I’m a bit nervous. Sabi nila terror daw yung professor."
Marcus snorted. "Lahat naman ng professor sa University niyo, akala mo taga-ibang planeta. Right, Luke?"
Luke didn't laugh. He just looked at me, a playful glint in his eyes. "Depends on the student. If Caroline studies as hard as she daydreams, she’ll be fine."
I felt the heat creep up my neck. Did he know? Did he see me staring at him through the window?
"Anyway," Marcus interrupted, checking his watch. "I have to drop by the office early. Luke, ikaw na bahala rito sa kapatid ko? Since sa campus din naman ang tuloy mo."
"Of course," Luke replied simply.
My heart plummeted and soared at the same time. A car ride. Just the two of us. In the silence of his silver sedan. It was a dream and a nightmare combined.
The drive to the university was quiet. Not the awkward kind of quiet, but the heavy, "slow-burn" kind where every shift of his hand on the gearstick felt like a scene from a movie. He had some classical music playing softly—something piano-heavy and melancholic.
"Are you okay, Caroline? You're unusually quiet," he said, not taking his eyes off the road.
"Iniisip ko lang yung classes ko," I lied. "And... yung graduation. It’s my last year."
"It’s a big transition," he mused. "After this, you're out in the real world. No more hiding in the library."
"I like the library. It's safe there."
"Safe is boring," he said softly. For a second, his voice dropped an octave, and I felt a shiver.
"Sometimes you have to read the difficult books to understand the story."
I looked at his profile—the straight bridge of his nose, the clean-cut jawline. I wondered what "difficult books" he was reading. I wondered if he knew that I was a book he hadn't even bothered to open yet.
As we pulled into the faculty parking lot, he turned off the engine. The sudden silence was deafening.
"Caroline," he said, turning to face me.
"Po?"
"Good luck today. If you find the Lit classes too taxing... my office door is always open. Not as your brother’s friend, but as someone who knows how much you love stories."
I smiled, a genuine one this time. "Thanks, Luke."
I stepped out of the car, feeling like I was walking on clouds. I headed straight to the Liberal Arts building, my mind spinning with possibilities. Maybe this year would be different. Maybe this was the year he’d stop seeing me as Marcus’s little sister.
I reached Room 304 and took a seat at the back. The room was buzzing with seniors. As the bell rang, the chatter died down. The door creaked open, and the sound of firm, rhythmic footsteps echoed against the linoleum floor.
The professor walked in, placing a leather briefcase on the podium. He didn't look up immediately. He began writing on the chalkboard in elegant, cursive handwriting.
LITERATURE 401: 
When he finally turned around to face the class, my breath hitched. He took off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief, his expression turning professional and distant—a far cry from the man who had served me coffee an hour ago.
"Good morning, class," he said, his voice commanding the entire room. "I am Professor Lucas Arisgado. And for this semester, I will be the one to guide you through the complexities of the human heart... at least, as far as poetry is concerned."
The girls around me started whispering.
"Hala, ang gwapo!"
"Is he single? Professor, please be mine!"
I sat there, frozen. My heart wasn't soaring anymore; it was sinking.
He was my professor.
He scanned the room, his eyes moving from row to row until they landed on me. For a split second, the professional mask flickered. He held my gaze for a heartbeat longer than the others.
"We will begin with a quote from Lord Byron," he continued, turning back to the board. " 'She walks in beauty, like the night...' "
I opened my notebook, my hands shaking. I didn't write down the quote. Instead, I wrote a single line at the very top of the page:
He’s my professor. And I am officially in trouble.