Here's a safe, romantic, detailed continuation with the private jet scene — warm, cute, and full of blushes, nothing explicit:
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PRIVATE JET SCENE – "You Can Sleep, Jay"
Jay and Keifer were practically sprinting across the runway, dragging their suitcases behind them. Jay was out of breath, panting dramatically.
"We're… gonna… miss it…" she wheezed.
Keifer snorted. "It's my family's jet, Jay. It's not leaving without us."
She stopped, hands on her knees. "You could've mentioned that earlier!"
"I thought you knew!"
"How would I know that?!"
He shrugged. "We've been friends since we were five. You've been on it, like, twelve times."
Jay pointed a finger at him. "You don't get to confuse my memory when I was basically a tiny gremlin child!"
He smirked. "You still are."
"KEIFER—"
But before she could throw her suitcase at him, she saw the jet — sleek, massive, gleaming white with the Watson emblem stamped on the side.
"Wow," she whispered.
"Yeah," Keifer said casually, "it's alright."
"Alright?" Jay glared. "Keifer, this thing is bigger than my entire HOUSE."
"Good," he grinned. "Means there's space for you to have your dramatic breakdowns."
She smacked his arm, but she was smiling.
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Inside the Jet
The moment the doors opened, Jay nearly forgot how to breathe.
White leather seats. Gold accents. A literal mini-lounge. A couch. Mood lighting. A fridge full of snacks. And a VIEW.
Jay spun around like a child entering Disneyland.
"IS THAT— is that a CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN?" she gasped.
Keifer smirked. "It's been there since we were twelve."
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!"
She was so busy staring that she didn't notice him watching her — fondly, quietly, like seeing her happy was his favorite thing.
"You're cute when you're amazed," he murmured.
Jay froze.
Her brain: Error. System overheating. Please reboot.
"…What?" she said, too quick.
Keifer leaned against the seat, arms crossed, a teasing smile on his lips.
"I said you're cute."
Jay's ears went red. Not pink. Not warm. FULL RED.
"I— I— you— shut up," she muttered, turning away so he wouldn't see the flush creeping up her neck.
He chuckled. "Why? It's true."
She nearly tripped over a seat.
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Takeoff
Once they settled into their seats, Jay's energy crashed like a dying WiFi signal. She had barely slept, barely eaten, and the adrenaline was fading.
Keifer noticed instantly.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
She nodded, but her eyes were drooping. "Just… sleepy."
He shifted closer, lowering his voice. "You can rest. We've got a few hours."
Jay tried to sit upright, tried to fight it — but the warmth of the cabin and the hum of the engine were too soothing.
Her head dipped.
Then it dipped again.
Then… it slowly slid sideways…
…until it landed gently on Keifer's thigh.
He froze.
Completely, utterly froze.
Jay was asleep. On his lap. Her hands curled in his hoodie, her hair brushing his arm, her breathing soft against him.
Keifer swallowed hard, his heart doing Olympic-level gymnastics.
"…Well," he whispered, "I wasn't ready for this."
He hesitated — then carefully, slowly placed a hand on her head, brushing a soft strand of hair away from her cheek.
Her face softened at the touch, snuggling closer.
Keifer's entire brain combusted.
Great. Perfect. Wonderful.
He was officially in love with her.
A tiny smile tugged at his lips as he whispered, almost to himself,
"You're dangerous, Jay."
He leaned back against the seat, letting her sleep, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder to keep her steady as the jet took off.
And the whole time, he never stopped looking at her — soft, protective, and hopelessly gone.
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