Chasing Mr. Prefect Read online

  Spark Books is an imprint of Anvil Publishing, Inc.

  Chasing Mr. Prefect

  Copyright to this digital edition © 2017 by

  Katt Briones

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the written permission of the copyright owner and the publisher.

  Published and exclusively distributed by

  ANVIL PUBLISHING, INC.

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  Book design by Janus Aragones-Zate (cover) and Miguel Cabreros (interior)

  ISBN 9786214201587 (e-book)

  Version 1.0.1

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 1

  “Siya nauna! I swear!”

  It sounded more like a first-grader sumbong than a valid argument on why I shouldn’t get suspended, but the adrenaline and the blood pounding in my ears made it hard for me to think straight. I was sitting in the head prefect’s office, hair disheveled and clothes sufficiently rumpled as I waited for my verdict.

  “You do know that brawling is a serious offense, right?” my professor told me sternly, sitting on the table beside my chair with her arms crossed.

  “Yes, Miss Co,” I replied, pouting as I cringed under her stare. She could not have been older than me by five years, but she scared me more than all of my other professors put together. “I’m sorry. But I swear, I only fought back to defend myself. Can you imagine what could have happened had I let her on? I’d be left with no hair!”

  “I know, Vinnie,” she said, getting off the table with such ease that it was hard to believe she wasn’t just gliding or something. “But I can’t let you off the hook this easily. Everyone already knows you’re my favorite student.”

  Okay, that just made it worse.

  Miss Co was my professor in Business Administration 170 (Marketing Management) and was something of a genius. She graduated magna cum laude and was immediately hired by a multinational consumer goods company as a management trainee. She stayed there for two years before ultimately deciding to go back to school for further studies. I admired everything about her and disappointing her was the last thing I wanted. Being told that I was her favorite after getting into a fight within school premises made me want to jump in a hole and never come out.

  “Fill this up while we wait for Cholo,” she told me, handing me an official-looking bunch of papers with formidable red letters on the heading. It basically spelled out that I was in serious trouble, but my mind seemed to be stuck on her last word.

  “Cholo?” I sputtered, fingers shaking as I put the form down on the table. “As in Valiente?

  “Who else?” she said with a soft laugh. “You’re in the head prefect’s office, remember?

  I closed my eyes tight and brought out a pen, willing the ground to eat me alive. First, Miss Co, and now him?

  Sighing, I just concentrated on the form and wrote neatly in block letters.

  Name: EXCONDE, LAVINIA MAGDALENE L.

  Student Number: 2012-11481

  Course: BS BUSINESS ADMINISTRATION

  I was nearly done with the thing when the door opened. A tall figure with books tucked under his left arm entered the room, then carefully closed the door with his right hand.

  “Sorry, I got caught up in the Dean’s Office,” he told

  Miss Co, smiling, before his slanted eyes settled on me.

  I became about ten thousand times more conscious of my bodily functions, and I hoped to heavens I did not look as ridiculous as I felt.

  Ay, asa. My fresh-from-sabunot hair must still have looked like a bird’s nest, judging by the look on his face.

  “Does she need checking?” he asked Miss Co, eyes still on me. He just seemed to be fighting the urge to laugh. “Baka may bruises.”

  I was starting to consider that I might need a clinic trip as my scalp still hurt from all the damn pulling, but realized seconds later that Cholo was just pulling my leg.

  Sipain ko ‘to eh.

  “Stop it, Cholo,” said Miss Co, and she gave him her best attempt at a glare. “This is Lavinia Exconde.”

  Okay, this was so not what I had in mind for my first encounter with the Cholo Valiente, but I had to suck it up and shake his hand.

  “So I’ve heard,” he said, slanted eyes twinkling with mischief as he gripped my hand. I let go of it rather quickly, trying not to think of how much I wanted in the past to run my fingers through his messy hair. He took the chair behind the table and checked the form.

  “So, shall we get started? We’ll need to hear your side.” asked Cholo, suddenly business-like.

  This was the side of him I had been more accustomed to. He was always Mr. Achiever, randomly standing up in our general curriculum classes to introduce himself as a candidate for freshman batch representative, leading activities in our org, and basically just being awesome and sparkly. He seemed like that college dream boy that would end up getting his JD while leaving girls’ hearts broken in his wake, and back then I thought I didn’t want to join that long line of girls waiting to be noticed.

  And besides, baka duraan niya lang ako if he ever saw my grades. (Not literally, but you get the idea.)

  “Lavinia?” he said, cutting into my thoughts. “Care to explain what happened back there?”

  “Nandoon ka kanina, ‘di ba?” I said. Even though I didn’t mean to, I was sure it sounded rude by the way Miss Co started laughing. Even Cholo cracked a smile.

  “Nasty little piece of work, aren’t you?” he just replied, shaking his head.

  So much for a first impression.

  CHAPTER 2

  Good news—they weren’t going to suspend me, but I’d probably get kicked out anyway.

  I should have been nicer to Cholo when he asked me to explain, perhaps he would have given me a much lighter punishment. I had no room to complain, though, as the girl who had pulled my hair in class was the one who got the full blast of it.

  Ugh. I shouldn’t have risen to the said classmate’s bait, but my temper got the better of me. It was a very stressful midterm week, and I was going to end it with a presentation in Marketing. I didn’t have a problem with the subject, but being asked to talk in front of the class was what really riled me up.

  “You were there,” I had insisted earlier, after Cholo had called me a nasty piece of work. “You heard her asking one stupid question after another. I did you all a favor by asking her to shut up.”

  “Yes, but maybe you could have said it more nicely,” said Cholo, taking notes on a clipboard. “That kind of language wasn’t really appropriate for class, was it?”

&nbs
p; See? What a self-righteous ass.

  “What’s the big deal? I just asked her to keep her mouth shut,” I replied.

  “No, you said closing her mouth was easier than keeping her legs closed, and that she should give it a try,” Cholo argued, giving me a knowing look, and my face burned in embarrassment. The guy’s memory was sharp as fuck.

  “Fine,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  Unfortunately, my apology didn’t cut it.

  As we were already in college, they couldn’t give me detention or make me write lines on the board. Suspension had been a consideration, but Miss Co shot that one down and told Cholo that I’d be brilliant for the upcoming org event at the end of the second semester.

  “For Ephemere?” Cholo had sputtered, disbelief evident on his face. Okay, that stung. I felt a little insulted. Who did he think he was?

  “You said you needed someone with a good eye,” Miss Co told him.

  “Yeah, I can handle events,” I snapped, clenching my fists.

  “But you’re hardly visible during org activities,” Cholo told me, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t we apply in the same year for Dresden Marketing Club? You never showed up again after induction night.”

  I wanted to shrink when he said that, because it was true. The org, which Cholo was obviously obsessed with, had a good name and I thought joining would give me good content for my CV once I graduated. They had these fancy names and I thought employers would be none the wiser. I was once assigned as project coordinator for their external relations event, but all I did was wait for the sponsor to show up in our building, help lift a few banners, and off I went to class.

  Just like that, I was project coordinator for external relations. I had wanted to stop my org career right there, but it seemed life had other plans.

  “We have meetings twice a week—Wednesdays and Fridays at 5:30 p.m.,” Cholo recited, deadpan. “That’s for updates, since we’re organizing this hand-in-hand with the College Student Council. Sometimes we’ll need people to call up prospective sponsors, fix stuff for the venue, and decide on the designs for publicity materials. Can you handle that?”

  I gulped.

  Meetings twice a week? I hardly could manage my time for academics and get enough time to sleep. I lived far from school and just going home already took one and a half hours, give or take. Studying was always after dinner, and I could not imagine any time in the day I could use to call up random people for some event I wasn’t even going to get anything from. Every single minute of my class breaks was allocated already, either to meals, skimming my textbooks, or just taking a nap in our college library.

  I was handling six subjects this semester, all majors, and I was hardly surviving with my current routine. How would I even start doing all those things he mentioned without flunking everything?

  “See?” Cholo had said to Miss Co, breaking into my thoughts. He was even shaking his head. “You’ll have to think of something else. We can’t put her in the event.”

  “Wait!” I said, now seriously offended. “I haven’t even said anything!”

  “That’s my girl!” said my professor, clapping her hands together like a schoolgirl.

  “Damn it, Patsy,” Cholo said to Miss Co, who merely giggled. “Pwede ‘wag halata? You’d get a sucky evaluation if you kept playing favorites.”

  “Excuse me, you’re the one calling her nicknames like Patsy and I’m the favorite?” I snarled.

  “Sorry, Vinnie, we happen to be related,” said Miss Co, immediately cutting us both off as Cholo opened his mouth to say something else. “Cholo, stop calling me that in school. Nakakahiya.”

  “Look, I’m running late for a sponsor meeting,” he said, all traces of his earlier trolling gone as he folded up the sleeves of his shirt. “We need to settle this now. Given her track record, we’ll need something to make sure she’ll take this seriously.”

  My track record? I tried not to look at him, as the look on his face made me want to kick something.

  Asshole.

  “Of course she will,” said Miss Co in my defense. “You and Summer can start assigning her stuff, watch over her and rate her performance for Ephemere.”

  “And if she slacks off?” Cholo prompted.

  “Then she flunks BA 170,” said Miss Co, folding her arms to look at me. I wanted to protest, as BA 170 was a subject offered only on the second semester of every year. Flunking it would delay me from graduating by at least a whole year.

  “Fair enough,” said Cholo, who stood up and checked his phone, then looked back at me the way one would regard a very problematic kid. “Lavinia, meet me next Wednesday at the DMC org room. I’ll bring you along to the meeting.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll go easy on you,” he said with a last smile, and then he ran off. I looked at Miss Co, who watched him leave with an amused smile.

  “Tang ina, scumbag talaga,” I said to no one in particular.

  “Vinnie, do me a favor, won’t you?” Miss Co said quietly as she watched me grab my bag. “He’s just pikon about him not being my favorite, and he’ll be so happy if I end up having to give you a 5 point zero. Prove him wrong, won’t you? Don’t mess this up.”

  Yeah. As if I needed any more pressure.

  CHAPTER 3

  From: Dad

  “Lapit na?”

  I looked around just in time to see the train plunge into darkness, which told me I was just a station away from my stop.

  To: Dad

  “Yeah. There in 10”

  I tucked my phone inside an obscure pocket in my bag and zipped it closed. The crowd inside the train was still thick, and as I had witnessed more than one incident of people getting their phones snatched, I’d be stupid not to keep an eye on my stuff. Loads of people stood up and I followed suit, grabbing a nearby metal rod (thank God I was tall) so I wouldn’t fall over once the train stopped. I quickly made my way out of the train and took the escalator, and then it was all over.

  Taking the train in Metro Manila was always the stuff of ‘horror’ stories online, but I was already used to it. Three years of taking it to and from school made me a tough cookie, and being pushed aside or getting hit by a bag in the face while seated was no longer a big deal. The congestion was still tiring, though, and it was a good thing that my stop was connected to a network of malls, so I at least had a place to sit or rest while waiting for my dad to pick me up.

  Today, he didn’t take too long. His office was around ten minutes away from the mall on foot and five minutes away by car. His car pulled over to our usual meeting place and I opened the backseat door. Dad drove off as soon as I settled in.

  “Hi, Vinnie,” said the person on the passenger seat, looking back at me with this huge smile on her face. I always made it a point not to acknowledge her damn existence but my stepsister just couldn’t get a fucking hint. “Rough day?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, putting on my headphones, rolling my eyes. She sadly faced the windshield again, and I saw Dad spare me a glance through the rearview mirror. I ignored him and looked outside.

  I spent the next hour trying to sleep, as I expected the trip home to take longer. The traffic wasn’t making things any easier, but the thought of a weekend with nothing to do but sleep shot my mood up a few notches. I looked forward to the thought of jumping in bed at last, with no academic requirements (for now) to worry about, and staying there for as long as I can.

  I kept my eyes closed. Between songs, I could hear them talking about work, which I just tuned out. Dad worked in a bank (one of the larger ones along Paseo de Roxas), and she had joined him just this semester as an intern. Quite a huge achievement, considering she wasn’t even that smart, but it was none of my business. I’d probably get into even more trouble the moment I opened my mouth, so I kept my opinion to myself.

  “Vinnie? We’re here,” Liana said, and I opened my eyes a bit. Dad had already parked inside the garage. A white SUV was already parked on the left side, and
I had to suppress a groan.

  She was back. Yay.

  I lazily trudged into the living room, threw my backpack on the sofa, and went straight to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

  “Vinnie, hi!” said my stepmother, who put down her knife and wiped her hands on her flowery apron, which she was wearing over a wrap dress. She then smiled toothily, looking pleased to see me, and I wondered if she noticed the state of my hair.

  “Hey, Cris. Uhm,” I said, trying to return her smile as I opened the fridge. Grabbing a pitcher, I struggled to think of something to say. “How was Baguio?”

  “Good, good. I got you a couple of jars of choco flakes,” she told me, and I got the feeling she had been bursting to tell me that all day as she was tripping over her own words. “Your dad mentioned it’s your favorite.”

  Wow, he remembered. NOT.

  “It is. Thank you,” I said, trying not to sound like a robot, then I gulped down my water sloppily. Maybe if she noticed I was thirsty, she wouldn’t think I was insincere. “I’ll go change.”

  “Yup, be quick, though. Dinner’s almost ready,” she told me. As my facial muscles refused to cooperate, I settled with a nod to excuse myself.

  My room was the one farthest from the stairs, and yet the smell of vegetable and seafood stew still reached it. I jumped on my bed, trying to decide if I should just sleep, but the smell made my mouth water and my stomach churn. I had to give it to Cris—she was an excellent cook, but her not-so-subtle attempts to act like my mother was just too much sometimes. While I appreciate that she had not turned into an evil bitch who threw her weight around the house, she honestly did not need to kiss ass.

  She came in handy when I got into Dresden, though. I didn’t qualify for the course I applied for (Accountancy), and my status was ‘Degree Program with Available Slot’. I had given up all hope, thinking I’d end up in one of those dead-end courses when she stepped in. She was a Dresden alumnus like my dad, and had a few connections in the college I wanted to get into. She had spent some time teaching while she was getting her MBA so she got to talk to a few people to get me in. While she wasn’t able to pull enough strings to get me into Accountancy, I was given a second chance to qualify for the Business Administration block by taking an exam. The rest was history.