Jay-Jay's POV
We finally made it to class after that dangerously illegal make-out session in the music room.
My lips were still tingling.
My brain was still fried.
And my face?
Basically a neon sign screaming "I kissed someone and I liked it and now I'm emotionally compromised, please send help."
Keifer sat next to me, looking way too smug for someone who'd just ambushed me with romance and tongue.
Ci-n, across the aisle, leaned over and squinted at me like I was a science experiment.
"Jay, why's your face red?" he asked, genuinely confused.
"Because I put on blush," I said.
Total lie.
Decent cover.
Would've worked—if Drew hadn't immediately smirked and said, "Is the blush named Keifer?"
I shot him a glare that could've melted steel.
Then Mayo chimed in, grinning like he'd been waiting for this moment since birth. "Obviously. Look at Jay—she's basically a tomato with a backpack."
I groaned and buried my face in my arms.
Why did I think I could survive this class without being emotionally roasted alive?
Yuri was glaring at Keifer like he was trying to set him on fire with his mind.
Keifer?
Keifer just leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, looking like the smug little chaos demon he was.
And honestly?
He had every reason to be.
Sir walked in, started taking attendance.
I was almost safe.
Almost.
"Jasper Jean Mariano," he called out.
Before I could answer, Keifer—traitor of peace, destroyer of calm—said, "Sir, you said her name wrong."
I blinked.
What.
Last time I checked, that was my name.
Sir paused. "I did?"
Keifer nodded, all innocent and evil. "It's Jasper Jean Mariano Watson."
I froze.
Thirty seconds of pure internal screaming.
What in the hell.
Ci-n dropped his pen.
Drew choked on his gum.
Mayo whispered, "Did we miss a wedding?"
Yuri looked like he was about to launch Keifer into the sun.
Sir blinked. "Watson?"
Keifer smiled like he hadn't just committed emotional arson in front of the entire class. "She's mine," he said softly. "So I figured—"
I slapped my hand over his mouth.
"Sir, ignore him," I said, voice cracking like a broken violin. "My name is fine. It's fine. Everything's fine."
Sir blinked twice, marked me present, and wisely moved on.
Keifer gently pulled my hand away and leaned in.
"You kissed me like you meant it," he whispered.
"I did not marry you," I hissed.
"Yet," he said.
I died.
Right there.
In my seat.
Emotionally deceased.
Ci-n was silently mouthing Watson?
Drew was texting someone.
Mayo was sketching a Jayfer wedding invitation in his notebook.
Yuri was still glaring.
And Keifer?
Keifer was holding my hand under the desk like he hadn't just renamed me in front of the entire class.
And me?
I didn't pull away.
Because I was weak.
Because I was wrecked.
Because I was in love with a boy who thought claiming me in front of a government employee was romantic.
And honestly?
It kind of was.
The moment class ended, I tried to escape.
I failed.
Section E swarmed me like emotionally unstable bees.
Ci-n grabbed my backpack.
Drew blocked the door.
Mayo was already filming.
Blaster started composing a musical called Jayfer: The Unauthorized Romance.
Kit and Mayo were choreographing a slow-motion wedding march.
David brought snacks. Again. To the roast.
"JayJay Watson?" Ci-n said, voice high-pitched and full of betrayal. "You got married and didn't invite us?"
"It was a secret elopement," Drew added solemnly. "They kissed in the music room and now she's legally his."
"I'm printing the marriage certificate," Mayo said, typing furiously on his tablet.
"Do we call you Mrs. Keifer now?" Kit asked.
"Or Lady Jayfer of Emotional Destruction?" Blaster offered.
I groaned and tried to hide behind my hoodie.
Keifer?
Keifer was loving this.
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, smirking like he'd just won a reality show.
"Technically," he said, "she kissed me first."
"Technically," I snapped, "you ambushed me with cheekbones and emotional sabotage."
"Technically," Ci-n said, "we're all traumatized."
"Technically," Drew added, "we're all witnesses."
Yuri walked past us, silent.
Still glaring.
Still spiraling.
I didn't look at him.
I couldn't.
Because Section E was already dissecting the entire music room incident like it was a crime scene.
I died.
Again.
Emotionally deceased.
Keifer grabbed my hand.
I didn't pull away.
Because I was wrecked.
Because I was his.
Because Section E had no chill.
And honestly?
Neither did I.