Jay-Jay's POV
*Continuation Of Flashback*
I only came to college for half a day.
Half. A. Day.
And yet, as I stood near the main gate with my bag slung over one shoulder and my patience hanging by a thread, it felt like I had survived a full week of emotional cardio.
I swear—
Dane and Eunice were going to be the reason I developed premature wrinkles.
"You're walking weird," Dane observed beside me, hands in his pockets, voice maddeningly calm.
I stopped mid-step and glared at him.
"I am walking normally."
Eunice leaned in from my other side, eyes scanning me up and down like a detective who had already solved the case.
"No, no," she said thoughtfully. "You're walking like someone who's aware she's committing a crime."
"I am not committing a crime."
Dane nodded. "That's exactly what criminals say."
I sighed. Deeply.
"I am tired. I have classes. Assignments. A life."
Eunice grinned. "And a hoodie."
My soul left my body.
"I—" I tugged instinctively at the hem of the hoodie I was wearing. "This is just… clothing."
Dane tilted his head. "That hoodie is three sizes too big for you."
"So?"
"And," Eunice added sweetly, "it smells suspiciously like a certain Mark Keifer Watson."
I choked.
"It does NOT."
"Oh, it does," she said confidently. "It has that… expensive detergent, slightly arrogant, dangerously comforting scent."
Dane hummed. "Rich boyfriend scent."
"He is NOT—"
I stopped myself, cheeks already heating up. "…that's not the point."
Eunice clasped her hands dramatically.
"Guys. She didn't even deny it."
"I didn't deny what?!"
"That she stole his hoodie," Dane said.
"I did NOT steal it!"
"You're wearing it."
"He gave it to me!"
Eunice gasped like I'd just confessed to murder.
"VOLUNTARILY?!"
I covered my face.
"Please stop yelling."
Students were already looking. Whispering. Smiling.
This was a nightmare.
Dane glanced toward the gate, then smirked.
"Speak of the devil."
My heart betrayed me instantly.
I looked up.
And there it was.
Keifer's car pulled up smoothly near the gate, sleek and unfairly attractive—just like its owner.
Before I could even process it, Eunice grabbed my arm.
"Oh LOOK," she announced loudly, "the hoodie thief's chauffeur has arrived."
"I am NOT a hoodie thief," I hissed.
Dane nodded seriously.
"You are wearing his hoodie. That is theft by affection."
"That is not a real crime!"
Keifer stepped out of the car.
Sunglasses on.
Sleeves rolled up.
Leaning casually against the door like he had all the time in the world.
And then—
He smiled.
That stupid, devastating smile that made my brain forget how words worked.
"Correction," he said, voice smooth, amused.
"That hoodie is exactly where it belongs."
I whipped my head toward him.
"KEIFER."
He lifted his hands in surrender, lips twitching.
"What? I'm just stating facts."
Eunice covered her mouth.
"THE MAN ADMITS IT."
Dane crossed his arms.
"So, Watson. Hoodie today. What's next?"
Keifer tilted his head, pretending to think.
"Hmm. Let's not rush her. I like slow upgrades."
I smacked his arm without thinking.
"Shameless!"
He laughed, not even fazed.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
Students were fully staring now.
Someone whispered, "Is that him?"
Another giggled.
I wanted to disappear.
Eunice leaned closer to me, whispering loudly.
"You know, Jay… public claiming is very on-brand for him."
"He is not claiming me!"
Keifer leaned in just enough to hear.
"Am I not?"
I glared at him.
"You are not helping."
His grin softened.
"I am absolutely helping."
Dane sighed like a disappointed parent.
"You two are unbearable."
Keifer nodded.
"Yet unforgettable."
Eunice wiped a fake tear.
"True love is alive and well."
"I hate both of you," I muttered.
Keifer opened the passenger door, gesturing dramatically.
"After you, my very flustered girlfriend."
I froze.
"…You did that on purpose."
He shrugged.
"Maybe."
I climbed into the car anyway, heart racing, cheeks burning, pretending I didn't hear Eunice whisper—
"LOCK IT IN, JAYFER."
The door closed.
And just like that—
The teasing followed me inside.
Keifer's POV
I knew it was going to be one of those afternoons the moment I saw her from across the college gate.
Jay stood there with Dane and Eunice, half a step behind them, shoulders slightly hunched like she was bracing herself for impact. My hoodie—my hoodie—hung off her frame, sleeves too long, hood swallowing half her head. She looked exhausted in that quiet, Jay-Jay way, like teasing had drained her soul more effectively than actual classes ever could.
And yeah.
I smiled like an idiot.
I parked smoothly near the gate, engine purring low, sunglasses already on because if I was going to get attacked by Section E energy, I was at least going to look prepared.
The moment I stepped out of the car—
Eunice saw me.
Her eyes lit up with the kind of joy that could only mean one thing: chaos.
"Oh LOOK," she announced loudly, pointing like she'd discovered a rare species, "the hoodie thief's chauffeur has arrived."
Jay froze.
Actually froze.
Like someone had hit pause on her entire existence.
"I am not a hoodie thief," she said weakly, turning around, cheeks already turning pink.
Dane adjusted his bag on his shoulder, expression completely deadpan. "You are wearing his hoodie. That is theft by affection."
I leaned against the car door, arms crossed, enjoying this far too much.
"Correction," I said, lifting my sunglasses just enough to look directly at Jay. "That hoodie is exactly where it belongs."
She whipped toward me so fast I almost laughed.
"KEIFER."
"What?" I spread my hands innocently. "It looks better on her. I'm just appreciating good taste."
Eunice gasped like I'd just confessed to a crime on national television.
"THE MAN ADMITS IT."
Jay's face went crimson.
I swear, if embarrassment could power cities, she alone could've lit up the entire campus.
Dane nodded thoughtfully. "So… hoodie today. What's next, Watson?"
I tilted my head, pretending to think. "Don't rush her. I like slow upgrades."
Her hand came flying toward my arm.
Smack.
"Shameless," she hissed.
Worth it.
Absolutely worth it.
I laughed, not even bothering to hide it. "Hey, I didn't say anything inappropriate."
"You implied everything," she shot back.
Eunice leaned closer to Jay, stage-whispering loudly enough for the entire gate to hear. "He's enjoying this way too much."
"Oh, I am," I said cheerfully.
Jay groaned, pulling the hood further over her face. "Can we please just go."
I opened the passenger door immediately, because teasing aside, some habits were instinct.
"After you," I said, softer now, just for her.
She hesitated for half a second—then glanced back at Dane and Eunice.
Big mistake.
Dane raised an eyebrow. "Say hi to Kuya Angelo for us."
Jay's eyes widened in horror.
Eunice clutched her chest. "WAIT—does he know about the hoodie?"
"No," Jay said quickly. "And he never will."
I grinned. "I don't know. I think I'd survive."
Jay turned to me slowly. Dangerously. "You would not."
I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "Relax. I like living."
That earned me another glare, but she climbed into the passenger seat anyway, muttering under her breath.
As she settled inside, Eunice waved dramatically. "BYE, JAY-JAY! TAKE CARE OF OUR GIRL, WATSON!"
Dane added calmly, "Drive safe. And don't upgrade too fast."
I saluted them. "No promises."
Jay slammed the door shut.
I straightened up, still smiling, heart doing that stupid thing it always did around her.
God.
Even half a day at college had drained her. Even a few jokes had worn her down. And still—she wore my hoodie like it was armor, like it was normal, like it belonged.
I walked around to the driver's side, one last glance at her through the windshield.
Flustered. Tired. Red-faced.
Still mine.
Yeah.
I started the car.
And just like that, the memory froze right there—
with her inside, teasing echoing behind us, and my heart already racing toward everything that came next.
Jay-Jay's POV
The moment the car door shuts, the world feels… smaller.
Not quiet.
Just contained.
Keifer's car smells like him—clean, faintly woody, something warm underneath that makes my chest feel funny in a way I refuse to acknowledge. The engine hums softly as he pulls away from the college gate, the late afternoon sun filtering through the windshield in lazy gold streaks.
I stare out the window on purpose.
Because if I look at him—
I'll remember how Dane and Eunice wouldn't shut up.
How he smirked like he enjoyed my suffering.
How his hoodie is still wrapped around me like a crime scene.
Silence stretches.
Not awkward.
Just… loud.
I feel it before I see it.
Movement.
Slow. Careful. Like he's testing dangerous territory.
His right hand leaves the steering wheel.
I glance down just in time to see it drifting toward my thigh.
Absolutely not.
I smack his hand away.
Hard.
Keifer's POV
SMACK.
I blink.
Then glance at her, eyebrow lifting slowly, genuinely confused.
"…What did I do now?"
She's already crossed her arms, body angled toward the door, jaw tight. The hoodie sleeves swallow her hands, which somehow makes her look even more offended.
And cute.
Very, very cute.
Dangerously cute.
Jay-Jay's POV
I don't look at him.
If I do, I'll forget why I'm mad.
"You told my teacher my family had a car accident."
The words come out sharper than I planned.
I finally look at him.
His jaw tightens—just slightly.
Not guilty.
Alert.
"They kept asking about the emergency," he says calmly.
I scoff.
"You could've said anything else! Food poisoning. Fever. A fake relative. Anything!"
I turn toward him now, frustration bubbling. "Dane and Eunice were worried sick, Keifer."
I exhale sharply, running a hand through my hair.
"They wouldn't stop asking me if I was okay."
The car slows.
Then stops.
He pulls over to the side of the road, hazards blinking softly, and turns fully toward me.
That's when I know this isn't a joke anymore.
Keifer's POV
I put the car in park and face her completely.
"Before you say anything," I say quietly, firmly, "listen."
She freezes.
Doesn't argue.
That alone tells me she trusts me more than she wants to admit.
"I didn't know what Angelo told your college," I continue. "If we gave different reasons, the administration might've checked."
Her eyes flicker.
"And if they checked," I say, voice lower now, "Angelo would've found out."
Silence drops between us like a held breath.
"…About us," I add.
"About that night."
I don't look away.
I let her see the truth in my eyes.
Jay-Jay's POV
My anger falters.
Just a little.
"You… thought about that?" I ask quietly.
He nods.
"I always think about protecting you first."
Something inside my chest softens painfully.
I hate that he does this.
Hate that he makes it impossible to stay mad.
"…You could've told me," I murmur.
"I wanted to be sure first," he replies. "I didn't want to scare you."
I let out a small laugh—breathless, tired.
"You scare me anyway."
His lips curve.
"Good," he says lightly. "Keeps things interesting."
I roll my eyes, but the tension is already slipping away.
The silence returns—different this time.
Warm.
Heavy.
And then—
I feel it again.
Movement.
His hand inches toward my thigh once more.
Slower now.
Like he's asking permission without words.
Keifer's POV
I barely make it an inch before—
SMACK.
Again.
I hiss. "Okay, that one was personal."
She finally turns fully toward me, eyes blazing.
"Mark Keifer Watson," she snaps, "you do not get to touch me after lying to my teacher."
"I didn't lie," I argue. "I strategically panicked."
"That's not better!"
I grin despite myself.
"Depends who you ask."
She glares.
I lean back in my seat, holding my hands up dramatically.
"Fine. Hands to myself," I say. "For now."
Her eyes narrow.
"…For now?"
I shrug. "I'm patient. Not blind."
She opens her mouth—then stops.
Her cheeks heat.
I notice.
Of course I do.
Jay-Jay's POV
"You're impossible," I mutter.
"And yet," he replies softly, "you're still here."
I don't have a comeback for that.
He starts the car again, pulling back onto the road.
Minutes pass.
Streetlights flicker on.
The sky deepens into soft blue.
My thoughts drift—dangerously—back to the night we're both trying not to talk about.
The way his voice sounded when it said my name.
The way my heart hasn't been the same since.
"…Do you regret it?"
The question slips out before I can stop it.
He glances at me.
Careful.
Serious.
Keifer's POV
"Do you?" I ask quietly.
She hesitates.
Then shakes her head.
"No."
Something inside me settles.
I reach over—not to her thigh this time—but to gently rest my fingers over her hand.
She doesn't pull away.
Instead, she relaxes.
I lift her hand slightly and press a soft kiss to her knuckles.
But full of everything unsaid.
"Good," I murmur. "Because I don't either."
She leans back, eyes closing briefly.
And for the rest of the drive—
The car stays quiet.
But our hearts?
Anything but.
Jay-Jay's POV
The car starts moving again.
No music.
No talking.
Just the quiet hum of the engine and the soft glow of sunset bleeding through the windshield.
I stare out the window, watching the city blur past—orange, gold, fading into deep blue. My fingers absently rub the sleeve of Keifer's hoodie, the fabric warm, familiar… safe.
Why does everything feel heavier at night?
Not heavy in a bad way.
Just… real.
I feel his eyes on me. I don't look at him immediately. I already know that look—the one where he's thinking too much, the one where his jaw tightens just a bit, like he's holding something back.
Keifer has never been bad at confidence.
But vulnerability?
That's new.
"Jay…" he says finally.
His voice is quieter than usual. Careful.
I turn my head slowly. "Hmm?"
He doesn't look at the road this time.
He looks at me.
Straight. Intense. Like he's searching my face for something he's afraid to find.
"Do you…" He hesitates. Clears his throat. "…do you regret it?"
The word hangs between us.
Regret.
I blink. "Regret what?"
He swallows, fingers tightening around the steering wheel.
"…That night," he says softly. "Being with me."
Oh.
My chest tightens.
He looks so different right now. Not teasing. Not smug. Not playful.
Just… a man waiting for an answer that could either calm him or completely wreck him.
I don't answer immediately.
Instead, I reach out.
My hand settles over his arm—warm, solid, familiar.
"No," I say firmly. "I don't."
His breath stutters.
I turn my body toward him more fully. "Not even a little."
The car slows.
Then stops.
He pulls over without a word, hazard lights blinking softly like a heartbeat in the dark.
Keifer leans forward, rests his forehead against the steering wheel for half a second—like he's been holding his breath all day and only now remembered how to breathe.
Then he turns to me.
His eyes are softer than I've ever seen them.
He leans in—not rushed, not hungry.
And presses a gentle kiss to my forehead.
Just there.
Warm. Steady. Protective.
"I needed to hear that," he murmurs.
I smile, small but real.
Keifer's POV
I don't think she understands what that answer did to me.
I've been carrying that question since morning.
Since I saw her in my hoodie.
Since Dane and Eunice teased her.
Since I noticed how quiet she went in the car.
What if she woke up and realized she shouldn't have trusted me?
What if she thought it was a mistake?
The idea alone was enough to drive me insane.
When she says "no," something in my chest finally loosens.
I start driving again, slower this time.
My hand stays on the wheel.
Barely.
Because every instinct in me wants to reach for her again.
She leans back into her seat, eyes drifting to the sky now visible through the sunroof.
Stars are beginning to appear.
"You're staring," she says quietly, not even looking at me.
I huff a soft laugh. "Am I that obvious?"
"Yes."
"Can't help it," I reply. "You look… peaceful."
She glances at me. "You're acting weird."
"Correction," I say. "I'm acting in love."
She groans. "Keifer—"
"I'm serious," I add quickly. "And before you tell me to shut up—no. I won't."
She tries not to smile.
Fails.
Her fingers toy with the sleeve of my hoodie again.
"…You were really jealous today," she says casually.
I scoff. "Was I?"
She raises an eyebrow. "You almost glared Edrix into the pool."
"That man complimented you."
"So did everyone."
"Yes," I say flatly. "And I hated every second of it."
She laughs softly. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm territorial," I correct. "There's a difference."
She shakes her head, amused. "You know I'm with you."
"I know," I say. Then quieter, "Still doesn't mean I like sharing the view."
Her cheeks warm.
Worth it.
Jay-Jay's POV
We don't go straight home.
Instead, he drives us slightly off route—to a quiet overlook near the edge of the city. The car stops again.
This time, he turns off the engine completely.
Silence.
Stars above us. City lights below.
"What are we doing?" I ask.
Keifer unbuckles his seatbelt. "Existing."
I snort. "That's not an answer."
He turns toward me fully now, one arm resting casually behind my seat.
"You're overthinking again," he says gently. "I just wanted a moment."
"With me?"
"With you."
My heart does that annoying thing again—tightening, fluttering, forgetting how to behave.
He reaches out, brushing his thumb against my knuckles.
"Jay," he says quietly, "if you ever regret anything—tell me."
I meet his gaze.
"I won't regret loving you."
Something dangerous flashes in his eyes.
He leans closer. Not touching. Just close enough that I can feel his warmth.
"You say things like that," he murmurs, "and expect me to stay calm?"
I laugh nervously. "You're the one who asked."
"Fair point."
He exhales, then chuckles. "You're going to ruin me, you know that?"
"Good," I tease. "You deserve it."
He grins. "I already belong to you."
Keifer's POV
She doesn't realize how much control it takes not to pull her into my arms right now.
But I am behaving.
Barely.
I rest my forehead against hers for a moment.
No kissing.
Just breathing her in.
"You're safe with me," I whisper. "Always."
She nods, eyes shining.
"I know."
And that—
That's everything.
Jay-Jay's POV
The moment the front door closes behind us, the house exhales.
So do I.
College, teasing, emotions, that car ride—everything feels like it finally pauses the second we step inside. The mansion is quiet in that rich, echoing way that still hasn't stopped feeling unreal to me.
I slip my shoes off near the door and stretch my arms above my head without thinking.
A mistake.
Because I feel it instantly.
That look.
I don't even have to turn around to know he's staring.
I sigh, letting my arms drop, and turn slowly.
"…Why are you staring like that?"
He's still near the door, keys in hand, jacket half off. His expression isn't teasing this time. It's not playful. It's soft. Grounded. Like he's memorizing something.
"Because you're real," he says quietly.
"And you're here."
My chest tightens in the stupidest way.
"That's such a weird thing to say," I mutter, trying to sound normal.
He steps closer, close enough that I can smell his cologne again—that familiar, warm scent that makes my brain short-circuit.
"I'm serious," he says. "Sometimes I still feel like if I blink, you'll disappear."
I swallow.
"Keifer…"
He smiles then, small and honest.
"I'm being weird, aren't I?"
"Yes," I say immediately. "Very."
He chuckles. "I'm being in love."
That does it.
I don't think. I just step forward and rest my forehead against his chest.
The steady beat of his heart is there instantly. Solid. Real.
For a few seconds, neither of us speaks.
No teasing.
No jokes.
Just breathing.
This—
this—feels steady.
Safe.
Keifer's POV
She fits there like she always has.
Like my body already knows hers.
I don't wrap my arms around her immediately. I just stand there, letting her choose the closeness, letting her lean as much as she wants.
When I do move, it's slow. Careful. One arm settles lightly around her shoulders.
"You okay?" I ask quietly.
She nods against me.
"Yeah," she says. "Just… tired."
I tilt my head slightly, resting my cheek against her hair.
"Teasing took your soul today, huh?"
She lets out a small laugh. "Dane and Eunice should be illegal."
"They were enjoying themselves," I say. "Especially Dane. He looked very proud."
She groans. "I hate you."
I grin. "Liar."
She lifts her head just enough to look up at me.
"You enjoyed it too."
I don't deny it. "A little."
"A little?" she repeats.
"Okay," I admit, "a lot."
She lightly punches my chest. "You're impossible."
"And yet," I say smoothly, "you came home with me."
She rolls her eyes but doesn't move away.
I tighten my arm just slightly. Not trapping. Just… there.
"Jay," I say, softer now.
"Hmm?"
"You don't feel weird about… yesterday, right?"
She goes still for half a second.
Then she pulls back just enough to look at my face properly.
"No," she says without hesitation.
"I feel… sure."
Something settles in my chest.
Good.
Jay-Jay's POV
We move deeper into the house, slower than usual, like neither of us wants to break the calm.
I flop onto the couch dramatically.
"I am officially dead."
He follows, sitting beside me instead of across like he usually does.
"Cause of death?" he asks.
"Emotional exhaustion," I say. "And excessive hoodie accusations."
He glances pointedly at what I'm wearing.
"You're still wearing it."
"Obviously."
"You planning on returning stolen property?"
"Nope."
I tuck my legs up under me and lean sideways until my shoulder bumps into his arm.
"You can't steal what was emotionally gifted," I add.
He snorts. "Emotionally gifted?"
"Yes."
"By me."
"Correct."
I feel his arm slide around my shoulders again, casual but intentional.
"You know," he says lightly, "people usually start wearing their boyfriend's hoodies after a certain level of commitment."
I raise an eyebrow. "And?"
"And I'm just saying," he continues, voice dropping just a little, "you skipped straight to premium access."
I elbow him. "Keep talking and you'll lose all access."
He laughs, hands up. "Okay, okay. Behaving."
Two seconds pass.
"…Mostly."
I shake my head, smiling despite myself.
Then my thoughts drift—quietly, naturally—back to last night.
Not the details.
The feeling.
The trust.
The way everything felt gentle instead of scary.
I don't feel shame.
I feel… grounded.
Keifer's POV
She's quiet.
That thoughtful quiet I've learned means she's somewhere deep in her own head.
I nudge her knee lightly. "Hey."
She looks at me.
"What?"
"You disappeared."
She hesitates. Then shrugs.
"I was just thinking."
"About?"
"Us."
That word hits harder than it should.
I lean back against the couch, keeping her tucked against my side.
"And?" I ask.
She tilts her head, studying me.
"I don't regret anything," she says softly.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
"Good," I say. Then, unable to resist, I add, "Because I would've had to dramatically overthink my entire existence otherwise."
She laughs. "You? Overthink?"
"Excuse you," I say. "I am a professional overthinker when it comes to you."
She smiles and leans into me again.
I press a gentle kiss to her forehead. Slow. Careful.
Nothing rushed.
Nothing heavy.
Just warmth.
"I'm glad," I murmur. "Because I don't want us built on regret."
She closes her eyes.
"We're not," she says. "We're built on… choosing."
I tighten my arm around her just a little.
Yeah.
That's exactly it.
And for the first time in a long time, the feeling between us doesn't feel fragile.
It feels unbroken.
Jay-Jay's POV
The house feels quieter than it did an hour ago.
Not empty—
Just… settled.
I curl slightly into the couch, knees tucked close, the hoodie's sleeves slipping over my hands again. I don't even realize I'm smiling until Keifer notices.
He's leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching me like he's memorizing a painting he's afraid might disappear.
"What?" I ask, squinting at him. "Why are you standing there like that?"
"Just checking," he says easily.
"Checking what?"
"If you're still real."
I scoff. "Wow. Romantic and dramatic."
He walks over slowly, sits beside me, close enough that our shoulders touch.
"Don't act like you don't love it," he murmurs. "You smile every time."
"I do not."
"You do," he insists. "You're smiling right now."
I immediately straighten my face. "I am not."
He laughs, soft and fond, then nudges my knee with his own.
"You know," he says casually, "most people regret things like… impulsive nights. Big feelings. Big choices."
My breath pauses.
He notices.
I turn to face him. "You already asked me that."
"And you already answered," he says gently. "I just needed to hear it again."
I search his face. There's no teasing now. No smug grin. Just quiet honesty.
"I don't regret it," I say firmly. "Not the night. Not you. Not us."
He exhales like something heavy finally leaves his chest.
"Good," he murmurs. "Because I don't think I could survive hearing the opposite."
I nudge his arm. "Drama queen."
"Your drama queen," he corrects.
I roll my eyes—but I lean closer.
He tilts his head slightly, forehead brushing mine.
"Jay," he says softly, "I'm not perfect. I mess up. I say stupid things. I tease too much."
"I noticed."
"But loving you?" His voice lowers. "That's the one thing I've never been confused about."
My chest tightens—not painfully. Comfortably.
I rest my head against his shoulder.
"Good," I whisper. "Because I'm not confused either."
He places a light kiss on my hair. Nothing rushed. Nothing heavy.
Just home.
*Present*
I sit there for a long moment after the memory fades.
The couch beneath me feels real.
The room is quiet.
The city lights outside the window blink lazily, like they've been watching me unravel this whole time.
I press my palm against my chest.
It still hurts.
But not in the way I once thought it did.
I close my eyes and exhale slowly.
Remembering all of that—
the teasing, the warmth, the way he looked at me like I was something fragile and priceless at the same time—
It only proves one thing.
I'm still madly in love with that guy.
The realization doesn't panic me.
It doesn't scare me.
It settles in my bones like a truth that never left—just waited.
"…I never stopped," I whisper to the empty room.
And right then—
Knock. Knock.
I freeze.
My heart skips so hard it actually hurts.
Who would be here this late?
Another knock follows, softer this time.
Careful.
Familiar.
I push myself up from the couch, my steps slow as I move toward the door. My fingers hesitate on the handle for half a second longer than necessary.
And then I open it.
He's standing there.
Mark Keifer Watson.
For a moment, my brain refuses to work.
He looks… unreal.
Tired, maybe. Hair slightly messy. His jacket slung over one shoulder. That same presence that fills a space even when he's doing absolutely nothing.
My heart betrays me instantly.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, too quickly.
His lips curve into a lazy smile.
"I came to steal your bathroom."
I blink. "What?"
"My condo doesn't have a geyser yet," he says casually, like this is the most normal thing in the world. "No hot water. I was about to freeze to death. Thought I'd come beg mercy."
I stare at him.
"You came all the way here… to take a bath?"
He shrugs. "You have hot water. And kindness. I'm desperate."
I should say no.
I really should.
But instead, I step aside.
"…Fine. But be quick."
His smile deepens as he steps inside.
"Angel."
I shut the door behind him, ignoring the way my heart is trying to escape my chest.
I point toward the bathroom. "Towels are inside. Don't—" I pause, narrowing my eyes. "—don't make this weird."
He raises both hands in surrender. "Me? Never."
Liar.
He disappears into the bathroom, and I retreat to the couch, attempting—and failing—to calm myself down.
Why does just his presence do this to me?
Minutes pass.
Too many minutes.
Then the bathroom door opens.
I look up.
And forget how breathing works.
He's shirtless.
Wearing only dark pants, a towel draped around his neck. His hair is wet, droplets sliding down his temples, down his jaw, tracing slow paths over his collarbone—
And his abs.
Oh God.
Water glistens on his skin, catching the light like something out of a fictional novel. He's drying his hair lazily, completely unbothered by the fact that I am seconds away from combusting.
He looks like a demigod who wandered into the wrong century.
"Why," I choke out, "are you not wearing a shirt?"
He looks at me.
Really looks at me.
Then his gaze flicks to my face—my ears—my cheeks.
And he smirks.
"Because I just took a bath?" he replies innocently.
"You could've worn one after!"
"And miss this reaction?" he asks, stepping closer. "Never."
My heart slams against my ribs.
"Keifer—"
He closes the distance in two strides.
Too fast.
Too close.
Before I can move, my back meets the wall.
His hands come up—one on either side of me—resting against the wall, not touching, but trapping me just the same.
I inhale sharply.
He leans in just enough for me to feel his warmth.
"Relax," he murmurs, eyes dark, amused. "I'm not doing anything."
"You pinned me."
"I framed you," he corrects. "Big difference."
I swallow.
"Why are you flustered, Jay?" he asks softly. "It's nothing you haven't seen before."
"That doesn't make it easier," I mutter.
His expression shifts—just slightly.
Something softer beneath the teasing.
"You were thinking about that night after the pool party right. The one we had when we were 18," he says quietly.
It's not a question.
My breath stutters.
He tilts his head, forehead almost touching mine.
"Tell me something," he whispers. "Did you regret it?"
My heart pounds.
I meet his eyes.
"No."
The word comes out steady.
Sure.
Something in his face loosens—relief, warmth, something dangerously tender.
"Good," he says softly. "Because I didn't either."
His thumb lifts—hesitates near my wrist, not quite touching.
The space between us is electric.
Loaded.
He leans in—
And stops.
His lips hover near my ear as he murmurs,
"Careful, Jay-Jay… if you keep looking at me like that, I might forget I came here just to bathe."
My pulse goes wild.
I open my mouth to reply—
And the lights suddenly flicker.
The room plunges into darkness.
I gasp.
His voice comes from inches away.
Low.
Amused.
"…Well," he says quietly, "this just got interesting."