JAY JAY POV
I had barely hung up with Aries when a knock sounded at my door. One of the maids peaked in, looking a little nervous.
"Ma'am, dinner is ready. Madam and Sir want you to come down," she said.
I stared at her, genuinely shocked. This was the first time in months they'd actually bothered to have dinner with me. Usually, they're out at galas or "working late," and I'm left with a tray in my room or a takeout box.
I nodded and closed the door.
I pulled on my most comfortable oversized pajamas and left my hair in a messy bun.
But as I rounded the corner of the stairs and looked down into the dining room, my heart sank. There, sitting at our table like he owned the place, was Yuri.
Oh, dear God. I should have known.
Thank God I had my phone with me. I needed a lifeline, and the only lifeline I wanted was currently probably playing basketball
As I walked into the dining room, my parents looked at my pajamas with immediate disapproval. Yuri, however, just smirked, his eyes trailing over me with that arrogant curiosity.
"Nice outfit, Jay," Yuri remarked, leaning back in his chair.
"It's what I wear when I'm forced to be in a room with people I didn't invite," I snapped, pulling out my chair and immediately pulling out my phone under the table.
I slid into my chair, the silence at the table stretching like a tight wire. My parents were shooting daggers at me with their eyes—clearly, my choice of fluffy pajama pants hadn't made the "perfect daughter" impression they were going for in front of their business partners.
"Jay Jay, please put the phone away," my father said, his voice a low warning. "We have guests."
"The guest already saw me at school today, Papa. He knows I'm not that interesting," I replied, not looking up.
I wanted to text Keifer so badly. I could picture him right now, sweating on some cracked asphalt court under a dim streetlight, focused and real. But I stopped myself. He already had enough on his plate—balancing school, his future, and the weight of being alone. He didn't need my high-society drama buzzing in his pocket while he was trying to find some peace on the court.
Instead, I opened my chat with Aries.
To: Aries You won't believe it. They set an extra plate for the Rooster. 🍽️🐓 I'm sitting here in my PJs and Dad looks like he's about to have an aneurysm. SOS. Is it too late to jump out the dining room window?
"So, Jay," Yuri's voice broke through my focus. He was leaning forward, looking way too comfortable in my house. "I heard you're quite the tennis player. Maybe we could hit some balls tomorrow? Your father mentioned you have a private court."
I finally looked up, giving him a flat, dead-eyed stare. "I only play with people who can keep up. And honestly, Yuri? I don't think you'd like my backhand. It's a little… aggressive."
My mother cleared her throat loudly. "What Yuri means is that he'd love to spend some quality time getting to know you, dear."
"He can get to know the back of my head," I muttered, my phone buzzing with a reply from Aries. I hid a smirk, looking down to read it. I could feel Yuri's eyes on me, but all I could think about was how much I'd rather be sitting on a bleacher watching Keifer play basketball in the dark.
"Jay, manners," my father hissed, his jaw tight. He looked at the Hanamatchis—Yuri's parents were there too, looking like statues of "old money"—and tried to offer a strained smile. "Apologies, she's had a long day of... studies."
"It's fine, Mr. Mariano," Yuri said, his voice smooth and irritating. "I like a challenge. Aggressive backhands don't scare me."
I felt my phone vibrate again.
From: Aries Do not jump. You'll break a leg and then you'll be stuck in the house with him for weeks while you heal. Just keep the phone on the table and pretend you're checking stock market updates. Dad will love it. Also, if he touches your tennis racket, I'll buy you a new one. Hang in there, sis.
I almost laughed out loud. I adjusted my phone so I could keep an eye on it while taking a spiteful bite of my salad.
"Jay, who are you texting at this time of the day?" Mom asked, her eyes narrowing as she watched me smile at my screen.
"It's Aries," I said, showing her the screen for a split second
The mention of Aries usually acted like a shield. My parents couldn't really complain about me talking to my own brother.
"Is he doing well?" my father asked, his tone softening slightly. He still hoped Aries would change his mind about the business.
"He's fine. He says hi," I lied smoothly, tucking my phone back into my pajama pocket before Mother could ask more questions.
Just as the tension at the table was about to snap, my pocket buzzed again. My heart did a literal backflip. I didn't even need to look to know.
I excused myself as fast as possible, practically skipping up the stairs. Once I was safely behind my locked bedroom door, I pulled the phone out.
From: Keifer I'm at the court. The lights are flickering and it sucks. If you're done being a 'princess' at dinner, I guess I could use someone to rebound for me
I bit my lip to keep from squealing. Wow. I am so happy this idiot finally decided to text me first. He'd never admit it, but he was basically asking for my company. He was lonely for me.
I was in such a rush that I didn't even want to change out of my PJs. They were comfortable, and honestly, Keifer has seen me at my worst anyway. I grabbed a hoodie to throw over the top, but kept the pajama pants on.
I headed for the back stairs, but realized I didn't have my keys.
"Lee, where are my car keys?" I asked the maid softly as I ran into her in the hall.
"Ma'am, I think they're by the T.V. stand in the lounge," she said.
"Can you please get them for me? Please?" I asked. Lee nodded and scurried off.
"Jay Jay, dear, where are you going at this hour?" Mrs. Hanamatchi asked, appearing from the dining room with a glass of wine.
"Just out with some friends," I lied, keeping my voice sweet.
Mrs. Hanamatchi wrinkled her nose. "Sweetie, I don't understand why you're saying 'please' to the maids. It's quite unnecessary."
It's called being polite, you plastic-faced snob. You should try it sometimes, I thought. I was about to say it out loud, but Mom shot me a warning look from the doorway, so I stayed silent.
Lee returned and handed me the keys. I didn't care who was watching; I gave her a quick hug. "Thank you, you're the best!" I said. Lee beamed at me.
Just as I was about to bolt for the door, Yuri stepped forward, leaning against the doorframe. "If you don't mind, can I join your friends?" he asked, a smug look on his face.
"No!" I said, way too quickly.
Mom and Dad both looked at me with deep suspicion. My heart hammered
"I mean... what I meant to say is that," I scrambled, trying to find a lie that would stick, "it's a... girls' night! Yeah. Just me, Mia, and the girls. We're doing a... spa and vent session. Total 'no boy' zone. You'd be bored out of your mind within five minutes, Yuri. Lots of crying about skincare and celebrity crushes."
I flashed a fake, high-pitched laugh and squeezed past him before he could respond. "Bye! Don't wait up!"
I sprinted to my car, heart racing. I hopped in, threw it into reverse, and peeled out of the driveway
I parked my car a little haphazardly, not even caring if I was in a real spot, and practically ran toward the sound of the ball hitting the pavement. Thump, thump, thump.
The park was mostly empty, the single flickering streetlight casting long, dancing shadows across the court. And there he was.
Keifer was mid-jump, his back to me. He wasn't wearing a shirt, just his basketball shorts, and I froze for a second. The muscles in his back moved perfectly as he released the ball, snapping his wrist in a clean follow-through. The ball swished through the chain net with a satisfying metallic ring.
He was covered in a light sheen of sweat that glistened under the yellow light, and my breath hitched. He looked like something out of a movie—strong, focused, and completely unaware of how much he was ruining my sanity.
I walked toward the edge of the court, pulling a cold bottle of water out of my bag. He heard my footsteps and turned around, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes swept over my pajama pants, and he let out a short, huffed laugh, but he didn't say anything.
"Water," I offered, holding it out.
He nodded, wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, and stepped closer. He took the bottle, his fingers brushing against mine. The contact sent a jolt of electricity straight up my arm.
He cracked the cap and took a long, desperate drink, his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed. I just stood there, staring like a complete idiot.
"You actually came," he said after a moment, capping the bottle. He wiped his mouth and looked down at me, his gaze softening just a fraction. "And you really wore the pajamas."
I nodded, feeling a little too proud of my duck-patterned pants. After a while, I sat on the bleachers while he shot a few more baskets, the rhythmic thud-thud of the ball filling the quiet air.
Eventually, the silence was too much for me. I had to start.
"So, when we get engaged, my ring size is a four," I said casually, like I was checking the weather.
"We're not getting engaged," Keifer said, not even breaking his rhythm as he drove to the hoop for a layup.
"And after our marriage..." I continued.
"We won't be getting married," he countered flatly.
I ignored him entirely, leaning back on my elbows and staring up at the flickering park light. "I want to do architecture in college, you know? So I want to be the one to design our house. I want a huge TV in the hall for movie nights. And honestly, the house doesn't have to be a mansion like my parents'. It can be medium-sized, just so our kids can play easily without getting lost."
Keifer stopped mid-dribble. He held the ball against his hip, his chest still glistening with sweat, and looked at me like I was a particularly confusing riddle.
"And who exactly is going to make the money for all that?" he asked, a skeptical tilt to his head.
My face split into a massive, triumphant grin. I hopped off the bleachers and pointed a finger at him.
"Aha! So you admit we're getting married!" I challenged, beaming at him. "Because if we weren't, you wouldn't be worried about the budget, Mr. Future Business Mogul."
Keifer froze. He realized he'd walked straight into my trap. He looked at the ball, then back at me, his ears turning that familiar shade of deep crimson even in the dim light.
"I didn't—that's not what I meant," he muttered, suddenly very interested in the texture of the basketball. "I was just pointing out that your 'medium-sized' house probably costs more than my entire life plan."
"Too late," I said, walking over to him until I was standing right in his space. I could smell the sweat and the cold night air on him. "You're already thinking about the finances. That's practically a proposal in Keifer-speak."
He let out a long, defeated sigh, but he didn't back away. "You're impossible, Jay. Truly."
"And you're blushing," I whispered, reaching out to poke his arm. "Truly."
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