Jay-Jay's POV
By the time I reach my condo door, I'm a shaking, exhausted mess.
My throat hurts from holding back emotions. My chest feels too tight. My eyes burn. Keifer's words from earlier loop inside me like a cruel, beautiful echo I can't escape:
"Give me a chance… or tell me to leave your life forever.""Tell me what you're afraid of.""Jay… this isn't just desire."
I fumble with my keys, push the door open, step inside, and shut it behind me. The click of the lock sounds like a tiny explosion in the silent room.
I rest my forehead against the wood and breathe out shakily.
Finally. Finally, I'm alone.
I toe my heels off, let my bag slide to the floor, and walk numbly to the living room like a ghost inside my own body. The lights feel too bright. The air feels too sharp. I sink onto the couch and curl forward, elbows on my knees, hands covering my face.
"Keifer… why are you doing this?" I whisper to no one.
My heartbeat is still chaotic from the confrontation. From how close he got. From how his eyes looked like they were begging me to stop breaking.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
He's too much.
Too persistent. Too gentle. Too patient. Too… him.
And it's terrifying.
A sudden knock punches my chest from the inside.
I freeze.
That knock—hard, confident, familiar—has haunted me for years.
I slowly lift my head.
"No," I whisper. "No, please no—"
Another knock. Two this time.
I stand up, but my knees feel weak. I walk to the door, palms sweating, breath shaky.
When I open it—
There he is.
Mark Keifer Watson.
Leaning against my doorframe like he owns gravity. Jacket off. Sleeves rolled up. Top two buttons of his shirt undone, exposing that stupidly perfect collarbone that has no business looking that illegal.
His hair is slightly messy, as if he ran his hands through it too many times while thinking about me.
God.
He is… breathtaking.
His eyes—those deep, warm, reckless eyes—lock onto mine. Hard. Hungry. Soft. Everything at once.
And then his voice—low, quiet, too intimate—slips through the doorway and straight under my skin:
"You said you needed space."
My breath catches.
His eyes dip to my trembling hands.
"And I can give you that," he adds, stepping one inch closer. "I respect you. I'll always respect you."
He pauses.
His voice lowers into a darker, velvet-soft tone that curls into my spine:
"But not for too long."
I stumble back a step.
"You— you can't just show up—"
He pushes off the doorframe, posture easy, relaxed, maddeningly confident. "I can if you leave me no choice."
"I didn't—"
He leans slightly down to my eye level, smirking like he just caught me lying.
"You avoid me worse than your vegetables."
My jaw drops. "Keifer!"
"That wasn't even the dirty line. You want the dirty line?"
I choke. "NO—"
"Too bad," he murmurs. "Because every time you run from me, Jay-Jay…" He dips his head closer, voice dropping into a sinful whisper: "…you make me want to chase you harder."
My entire soul collapses into itself.
He continues, tone shifting back to something real, something painfully sincere:
"So I bought the condo next to yours."
I blink. "You… what."
He shrugs casually, like he just bought a pack of gum. "Had to. If you're going to run from me, at least run in a direction I can follow."
I feel my face heat up—no, ignite—from neck to ears.
"Y-You're insane," I whisper.
"No," he says softly. "I'm determined."
His eyes scan my face, slow and unbearably warm.
"You're blushing," he murmurs.
"I'm NOT—"
"Jay-Jay," he cuts me off gently. "If I knew you flushed this beautifully…" His voice drops an octave. "…I would've dedicated my entire teenage years to making you blush."
I swear the universe turns red.
"Keifer, stop."
"I haven't even started."
I step back, needing oxygen. Needing distance. Needing anything that isn't him.
But he steps forward—not touching me, never touching, but close enough that I can feel the heat of his body like a phantom against my skin.
Too close. God, too close.
"Why are you doing this?" I whisper, hating how weak my voice sounds.
He looks at me like he's memorizing every breath I take.
"Because I'm done," he says softly. "I'm done watching you hurt alone. Watching you walk around like you're made of glass. Watching you pretend you don't need anyone."
His jaw tightens.
"I'm done letting you break without someone to hold you together."
My heart cracks open inside my chest.
He lifts a hand—slow, careful—but stops an inch from my arm. Close enough to feel the warmth, far enough to show restraint that hurts to look at.
"I'm not touching you," he murmurs. "Not unless you ask."
My lungs stop working.
"But I'll stay beside you," he adds. "I'll be right next door. I'll be here every time you're scared, or tired, or lonely. I'll be here until you understand that you never had to face anything alone."
His voice cracks. Just a little.
"And I'll wait. For however long it takes."
My throat tightens painfully.
I whisper, "Keifer… please don't—"
He steps one inch closer, eyes burning with something that hurts and heals and terrifies all at once.
"You don't get to push me away with lies anymore," he says quietly. "But I won't take a single step you don't allow. Not anymore."
He breathes out shakily. "Jay… I'm here. I'm not leaving again."
His fingers lower, brushing the air near my arm—barely there, a ghost of a touch.
A promise without contact.
Then he steps back.
The sudden distance feels like cold air hitting an open wound.
He forces a small smile—gentle, tired, something like hope bleeding through the cracks.
"Get some rest," he murmurs. "If you need me…"
He taps the wall separating our condos.
"I'm right here."
Then—slowly, as if waiting for me to pull him back—he begins to turn away.
He walks down the hall, shoulders tense like he's holding a storm inside.
I close my condo door behind me. The silence hits me like a wave.
I stagger backward until I reach the couch. I sink onto it, hands shaking, heart pounding so violently I feel faint.
"He bought the condo next to mine," I whisper.
The room spins.
"He's… he's really not letting me break alone."
My throat tightens.
"The way he's being—gentle, patient, so… careful with me… how can I not—?"
My voice cracks.
"How do I not fall in love again… when I already never stopped?"
The confession hangs in the air, trembling.
I close my eyes.
And then—
His touchless warmth. His cracked voice. His persistence. His "Jay-Jay." His eyes that looked like they were breaking for me.
Memories slam into me like a tidal wave too powerful to survive.
The past pulls me under—
Flashback-
I woke up to the sound of war.
Not literal gunshots or bombs—just my entire family sounding like a herd of elephants tripping over each other.
Suitcases slamming. Doors opening and closing. Tita Gemma yelling something about vitamins. Aries arguing with himself. Mama Jenna giving orders like a general.
I shot up in my teenage bed, hair sticking in directions not known to physics.
Jay (me), groggy:
"…what apocalypse did I sleep through?"
No one answered.
Of course.
I stumbled out of my room and into the hallway where Mama was wrestling with a giant maleta like it owed her money.
Jay:
"Ma… what is happening? Why is everyone—"
Mama, without looking at me:
"Emergency. We need to go."
Jay:
"…Go where? Why? Who died?"
She ignored me again.
Across the hallway, Aries appeared, carrying two huge bags like he was leaving for war.
Jay:
"Kuya?"
He didn't stop walking.
Aries:
"Yeah?"
Jay:
"Are you going too?"
He cleared his throat.
Aries:
"Uh… no. I'm staying at Ella's."
A beat of silence.
I blinked.
Ella?
Before I could process that, Tita Gemma looked up from folding towels and smirked like she had been waiting her whole life for this moment.
Tita Gemma, sing-song:
"Don't go too far, Aries…"
Aries froze.
And then…
turned tomato red.
Jay:
"…Too far WHERE? What does that mean? What are you implying? What are you—"
Aries, panicking:
"MOM, PLEASE—"
Tita Gemma:
"Oh, come on. You think we don't know—"
Jay:
"KNOW WHAT—?!"
Before she could drop the bomb, Kuya Angelo appeared out of nowhere like a stressed-out boss character in a video game.
Kuya Angelo:
"ENOUGH. We're late. Move."
He clapped his hands.
People scattered like roaches.
Jay:
"Wait, Kuya, can someone tell me what's happening? Why are we—"
Tita Gemma:
"But what about Jay? We can't just leave her—"
Angelo, sighing deeply:
"Don't worry about that. I've got everything covered."
I narrowed my eyes.
Everything covered?
Everything?
The last time Kuya Angelo said that, we ended up with a new guard dog, a new wall, and a new set of neighborhood rumors.
Jay:
"…Kuya, I'm scared."
He opened his mouth—to lie, definitely—
DING DONG.
The doorbell.
Everyone paused.
Everyone.
Even the suitcases.
Jay:
"…I'll get it?"
They all stared at me like I was walking toward the gates of hell.
I swallowed and walked to the front door.
Opened it.
And nearly died.
Keifer.
At 7 AM.
Looking like the definition of "Morning Sin."
White shirt. Rolled-up sleeves. Hair a bit messy in a way that felt illegal. Eyes warm, soft—and immediately locked on me like I was oxygen.
I forgot how to breathe.
Jay:
"Wha— why are you here this early—"
Before he could speak, Kuya Angelo materialized beside me and blocked the doorway with his entire body.
Angelo:
"She's staying with him."
Jay:
"WHAT."
Keifer smiled.
Slow. Lazy. Wicked.
Keifer:
"Morning, sweetheart."
My soul left my body.
Jay:
"NO. No, no, no, no. Not morning sweetheart! What is happening?!"
Angelo turned to me.
Angelo:
"Pack a bag."
Jay:
"I JUST WOKE UP! I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT WE'RE RUNNING FROM!"
Mama, from behind:
"Earthquake drill!"
Tita Gemma:
"No, flood!"
Aries:
"No, Ma said—"
Angelo:
"STOP TALKING."
Everyone shut up.
Except Keifer.
Who leaned sideways, meeting my eyes with that maddening smirk.
Keifer:
"Sweetheart, you look cute when you're confused."
Jay:
"I AM NOT CUTE. I AM BEING KIDNAPPED BY MY OWN FAMILY."
Angelo:
"It's not kidnapping if you trust me."
Jay:
"I DON'T TRUST YOU!"
Angelo:
"That's fair."
Keifer chuckled.
CHUCKLED.
I glared at him.
He only smirked deeper.
Keifer:
"Don't worry. I'll take good care of you."
I turned red so fast I swear my blood boiled.
Jay:
"Can someone explain why—"
Angelo:
"We have an emergency in the province. Everyone has to leave. You're safer staying here."
Jay:
"Oh. Okay—"
Angelo:
"With him."
Jay:
"NOT OKAY!"
Keifer, leaning on the doorframe like sin incarnate:
"I promise not to bite."
Pause.
Long, heated pause.
My face burned.
His smirk widened.
Keifer:
"Unless you ask."
Jay:
"KEIFER!"
He held up his hands.
Keifer:
"Joke. (…mostly.)"
Angelo grabbed my shoulder, pulled me aside, and whispered:
Angelo:
"Look. You like him. He likes you. And I need someone responsible watching you while we're gone."
Jay:
"HE IS NOT RESPONSIBLE!"
Keifer:
"Hey— I pay taxes."
Jay:
"THAT DOES NOT COUNT!"
Tita Gemma, whispering loudly:
"At least you'll have eye candy."
Jay:
"TITA!"
Aries, muttering:
"Lucky."
"STOP."
Everyone jumped.
Keifer's voice—low, steady, surprisingly serious—cut through the chaos.
He stepped forward. Not touching me, just close enough that I felt him.
Keifer:
"She'll be safe with me.
You have my word."
Mama Jenna nodded with relief.
Tita Gemma sighed like she was watching a teleserye.
Aries gave a jealous thumbs-up.
Even Angelo paused.
Something in Keifer's tone…
made everyone calm down.
…except me.
My heart was sprinting.
Jay:
"You didn't even ask if I wanted this!"
Angelo:
"Do you?"
"I—"
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because Keifer was looking at me.
Not smirking.
Not flirting.
Just… looking.
Like he genuinely cared.
Like this mattered to him.
Like I mattered.
My knees felt weak.
I hate him.
I love him.
I hate that I love him.
Jay:
"…I—"
Angelo:
"Perfect. She agrees."
"I DIDN'T SAY—"
Angelo:
"Time's up. Let's go."
He started ushering everyone out like a drill sergeant.
Mama kissed my forehead:
"Anak, behave."
Tita Gemma winked:
"Or don't."
Jay:
"TITA STOP ENCOURAGING—"
Aries, already half out the door:
"Don't do anything I wouldn't—"
Jay:
"THAT DOES NOT HELP!"
Angelo stood last, blocking Keifer with a glare level: overprotective big brother about to murder someone.
He jabbed a finger at Keifer's chest.
Angelo:
"No funny business."
Keifer raised a brow.
Keifer:
"Define funny."
Angelo:
"KEIFER."
Keifer held up one hand, palm open.
Keifer:
"Fine. I'll behave."
Beat.
Keifer, smirking quietly:
"…mostly."
Angelo groaned like he aged ten years.
Angelo:
"I swear—if you do anything stupid—"
Keifer tilted his head, voice dropping to that dangerous, teasing softness that always turned my bones into melted cheese.
Keifer:
"I won't touch her."
My breath caught.
He looked at me.
Right in the eyes.
Right into me.
Keifer:
"Not unless she wants me to."
My entire soul combusted.
Angelo sputtered.
Angelo:
"STOP SAYING THINGS LIKE THAT!"
Keifer shrugged, hands in pockets, all sinful innocence.
Keifer:
"I'm just being honest."
Angelo pointed at me.
Angelo:
"Jay. Call me if he does anything weird."
Keifer:
"Sweetheart, define weird—"
Angelo:
"KEIFER SHUT UP."
He stormed out.
Door closed.
Silence.
Only Keifer and I left.
He exhaled, slow.
Looked at me like he'd been waiting for this moment for years.
And softly, almost shyly:
Keifer:
"…Hi."
I melted.
The car seatbelt clicks into place, and my pulse is already unreasonably loud in my ears.
Keifer starts the engine like it's no big deal, like he didn't just show up at my doorstep at 7AM with a smirk that could burn through my entire lifespan.
He's calm. I'm… breathing too fast.
Typical.
He pulls out of our subdivision, humming like he's on vacation, while I'm still trying to process how my entire family abandoned me to him like some peace offering.
I cross my arms.
"You didn't have to come fetch me."
He glances at me, teasing at the corner of his lips.
"Would you rather go with Angelo?"
"…No."
"Then you're welcome."
I want to smack him.
And I also… don't.
The silence settles, warm, familiar, almost too familiar—
until he makes a sudden turn left.
A turn that definitely does not lead to his place.
I stiffen.
"This is NOT the way to your house."
Keifer doesn't even flinch.
"No. It's not."
Suspicious.
VERY suspicious.
I hold the seatbelt like I'm bracing for impact.
"Then where are we going?"
He shrugs one shoulder, cool as sunrise.
"To my new condo."
I blink.
"…Your what."
"My new condo," he repeats, like he's telling me he bought a new toothbrush.
"You—wait—YOU BOUGHT A NEW HOUSE OVERNIGHT?!"
He finally gives me that slow, sinful, arrogant smirk.
Oh no.
"As soon as Angelo told me you needed a place," he says, voice dropping a little,
"I bought us one."
Us.
U S.
My soul leaves my body.
He continues,
"So we won't be disturbed."
I swallow. Hard.
"Disturbed by who?"
"My brothers," he says. "Your brothers. Half of Section E. Dane's gossip addiction. Eunice's death threats."
I choke on my own spit.
He glances sideways again—
eyes soft, teasing, warm in a way that has always melted every part of my defenses.
"I like having you all to myself," he finishes.
Instant combustion.
I can practically hear my face sizzling into tomato-red territory.
"Keifer—don't say things like that."
"I will say things like that," he murmurs, "if you blush like that."
The butterfly massacre inside my stomach is unreasonable.
I look away, staring at random passing houses, refusing to let him see how weak I've apparently become.
But out of the corner of my eye, I can feel his smirk.
He knows.
He ALWAYS knows.
Fifteen minutes later, he turns into a quiet private village.
My brows scrunch.
"Where is this—?"
"We're here."
I look out the window.
Then I stare.
Then I blink.
"You said condo," I whisper.
"I lied," he says, unbothered.
"KEIFER. This—this is not a condo."
The structure in front of me is a whole-ass two-floor bungalow, warm beige walls, a charming little veranda, tall glass windows, and a front yard that looks like it belongs in a drama series.
Keifer steps out of the car, walks around, and opens my door for me.
Show-off.
"Come on, Jay-Jay," he murmurs. "I want to show you."
"I—Keifer—this is a house. You bought an entire house."
"For a few days," he shrugs. "A condo wasn't enough."
"ENOUGH FOR WHAT?!"
"For privacy."
My knees dissolve.
He leans just slightly closer, lowering his voice so only I can hear:
"And I like space when I'm alone with you."
I nearly short-circuit.
"Wh—why do you talk like that?" I whisper-hiss.
He tilts his head, innocent.
"Like what?"
"LIKE—LIKE—"
I wave vaguely at his sinful existence.
"Like you're trying to make me combust!"
He blinks slowly, lips curving.
"Am I?"
"STOP."
"Jay-Jay," he says softly—too softly—
"I haven't even started."
Oh. My. God.
I consider calling the police on him.
For… seduction crimes.
He holds out his hand.
"Come see."
I swallow and step onto the curb, heart hammering like it wants to escape me and cling to his shirt instead.
The yard is beautiful, a quiet little oasis.
Very him.
Very calm.
Very intentional.
Inside my chest, something aches.
He bought this for me.
For us.
Overnight.
"I can't believe you did this," I mumble.
"You can," he says. "You just don't want to."
He walks ahead, hands in his pockets, watching me with that warm, relaxed smile that used to undo me in high school.
Still does.
When we reach the doorstep, he unlocks the door with one hand and looks over his shoulder.
"You ready?"
"No."
He smiles wider.
"I'll be gentle."
"WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS."
He laughs—deep, low, genuine.
A sound I've missed for years.
He pushes the door open.
The interior makes me freeze.
Soft lighting.
Warm neutral walls.
Everything decorated for comfort—cozy couch, wooden accents, a fluffy carpet, scented candles, soft pillows, a tiny reading corner.
It looks like a place someone built not for style—but for a person.
My breath stutters.
"You… set this up," I whisper.
He shrugs like he didn't spend half his bank account last night.
"Had it staged at dawn."
"At DAWN?!"
"Couldn't sleep."
He says it casually, but his eyes soften.
"Kept thinking about you."
My heart stops.
"And you wanted me here?" I whisper.
He steps closer.
"I wanted you safe. And comfortable."
A beat.
"And near me."
My cheeks burst into flames.
"You—you don't have to say things like that."
"But they're true."
"Keifer—"
"Jay-Jay," he says, voice dipping into something warm, teasing.
"If you knew the things I want to say—"
"STOP. STOP RIGHT THERE."
He laughs under his breath.
"Okay, okay. I'll behave…"
I exhale in relief—
and he leans in just a fraction.
"...mostly."
I almost pass out.
We walk through the living room, and he watches my reactions with quiet pride.
"You like it?" he asks.
"I… it's beautiful," I admit softly.
"But it's too much for—"
"It's not."
"But you didn't have to—"
"I wanted to."
The sincerity in his voice hits me harder than the teasing ever could.
I look away, overwhelmed.
Back in high school, he always spoiled me.
Always protected me.
Always went overboard in ways that made me feel like I mattered.
And now?
He's the same.
Older, steadier, but just as intense.
My chest tightens.
This is dangerous.
This is soft.
This is the kind of love that ruins people forever.
I step forward, letting myself take in the space.
The sunlight fills the room.
It's warm.
Safe.
I feel… held.
Without him even touching me.
"Keifer," I whisper.
"Hmm?"
"Why are you doing all this?"
He walks toward me slowly—
not predatory, not forceful—
but like a man who's sure of what he wants.
"You really don't know?" he murmurs.
I swallow.
He stops right in front of me—
close enough to share breath,
close enough that his cologne wraps around me in soft warmth,
close enough that all my logic dissolves.
He lowers his head just slightly.
"Because I love you," he says quietly.
"No matter how far you run."
My throat closes.
"Keifer… don't—"
"I'm allowed to say it," he murmurs.
"You're just not ready to hear it."
He steps back, giving me space again—
like he always does.
Like the respectful, infuriating, gentle man he is.
He gestures around the house.
"You can explore. I'll bring your bags in."
I nod weakly.
Then he adds—because OF COURSE he does:
"Try not to blush too much while I'm gone.
I'll get ideas."
"KEIFER!"
He grins.
And walks out to the car.
Leaving me in the doorway, breathless, overwhelmed, and fighting the urge to melt into the floor.
I grip the edge of the wall to steady myself.
This man is going to ruin me.
Again.
And deep inside—
dangerously deep—
I think I want him to.
I wake up to the smell of something warm… buttery… ridiculously good.
Pancakes?
Eggs?
Or is that the scent of my soul leaving my body because I already know the source?
My face is buried in the pillow. I roll over, groaning softly—
then freeze.
Wait.
This isn't my room.
This isn't my bed.
This is the freakin' luxury bungalow Keifer bought overnight like he was shopping for snacks.
And he's somewhere in this house.
Shirtless.
Probably.
Because he just felt like that kind of man.
I slowly sit up, rub my eyes, and tug the blanket around my shoulders. My heart is already beating too fast and I haven't even seen him yet.
The scent in the air grows stronger.
A sizzle from the kitchen.
A soft hum — deep, low, and absolutely illegal at this hour.
I swear to God, if this man is making breakfast like some kind of domestic fantasy scene—
My feet hit the floor.
I take a breath.
I walk toward the kitchen.
And then—
I stop breathing.
Because there he is.
Shirtless.
Grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
Hair messy.
Back muscles moving as he flips something on the pan.
A warm, golden morning light glows across his skin like it wants to worship him.
My brain short-circuits.
And dies.
He's. Shirtless. Cooking.
My soul hits the ceiling.
I immediately spin around so fast I almost dislocate something.
"WH—WHY ARE YOU NAKED IN THE KITCHEN?!"
My voice cracks like a teenager hitting puberty twice.
Behind me, I hear the laugh.
That deep, rich, I-know-exactly-what-I'm-doing-to-you laugh.
Keifer.
Of course.
"Jay-Jay…" he says, and his voice is too warm, too smooth, too teasing. "I'm not naked."
"You're— you're— shirtless! That's basically naked!" I squeak.
"Mm. Really?"
I can hear the smirk.
"It's interesting that you think so."
"KEIFER."
"Yes?"
"PUT A SHIRT ON."
"Why?"
I whirl around just enough to glare at the wall, not him.
"Because you're— you're distracting!"
He stops.
Then I hear him move.
Soft steps.
Slow.
Predatory.
He knows exactly what he's doing.
And then—
I feel his warmth behind me.
His breath near my ear.
My knees say goodbye.
"I'm distracting?" he murmurs, voice lower than should be legal.
I freeze.
"Jay-Jay…"
His hands don't touch me — not yet — but they hover near my waist.
Close enough for the air to buzz.
"You said it like it's a bad thing."
"Keifer," I whisper, trying to sound strong, but it comes out like a sigh. "Don't—"
Too late.
He moves.
His arms slide around my waist.
Not pulling.
Not grabbing.
Just… holding me there, in a warm, gentle cage that makes my pulse trip over itself.
I nearly melt.
"Why are you cooking shirtless?!" I choke out.
He leans down, lips brushing my shoulder without touching.
"Because someone fell asleep on my arm last night," he murmurs. "And I didn't want to wake her to ask about a shirt."
My face combusts.
"I— I was tired!"
"And cute," he adds.
"K—Keifer—"
"Beautiful, actually."
My soul leaves my body entirely.
He chuckles softly, presses his forehead to the back of my head for one warm second, then—
He turns me around in one slow, fluid motion.
My breath catches.
Because now I'm facing all of him.
Up close.
Chest.
Abs.
That stupid V-line that should come with a warning label.
I slap both hands to my face.
"Hhhh—you— stop EXISTING like this!"
He laughs.
And then—
Before I can escape, he lifts me.
Effortlessly.
My breath whooshes out.
"KEIFER!!!"
He sets me down on the kitchen counter like I weigh nothing.
His hands stay braced on either side of my hips — NOT touching, but close enough to feel like my whole body is buzzing.
I am trembling.
He's smirking.
Dangerously.
Slowly, he leans close, eyes locked with mine.
So close our noses almost brush.
So close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my lips.
"Jay…"
He says my name like a sin.
Like a prayer.
Like he owns every version of it.
"I'm serving breakfast," he murmurs, "for my beautiful future wife."
My brain explodes.
I swear sparks shoot from my skull.
"F—F-FUTURE WH— WHAT?!"
He smiles.
Slow.
Wicked.
Sweet.
"You heard me."
"Th— that's— that's— YOU CAN'T SAY THINGS LIKE THAT!"
He tilts his head.
"I can't call you beautiful?"
"That's— that's not the problem!"
"Future wife?"
"KEIFER—!"
He leans closer, lips almost touching mine.
"Then tell me which one bothers you," he whispers.
"I—"
I gulp.
I can't look away.
"Both."
He laughs softly — the kind of laugh that melts every bone in my body.
"Good."
My brain pauses.
"G… good?"
"Yes."
His voice drops to a whisper.
"Because that means it matters to you."
I turn the brightest shade of red possible.
He smiles wider.
Then — slow, gentle — he cups my cheek with his palm.
His thumb brushes my cheekbone.
I stop breathing entirely.
"Jay-Jay," he whispers, "you have no idea what you do to me."
And then—
Like he's terrified to break me —
he leans in and kisses me.
Soft.
Slow.
Barely-there.
The kind of kiss that isn't about hunger —
but about tenderness
and apology
and longing
and everything we have never said out loud.
I tremble under him.
He pulls back just enough to look at me.
My cheeks are burning.
His smile is soft now.
Not teasing.
Not smug.
Just warm.
"You're so cute when you're flustered," he whispers.
I hide my face in my hands, groaning.
He laughs again — a soft, warm sound — and pulls me gently into his chest.
His arms wrap around me.
Warm.
Strong.
Safe.
I melt completely.
He whispers into my hair:
"You can stay here as long as you want. With me. I'll take care of everything."
My heart breaks.
And heals.
And breaks again.
"Keifer…" I whisper, shaking. "You can't just say things like that."
"I can."
He presses his forehead to mine.
"And I will."
"Why?"
He smiles.
Soft.
Sad.
Loving.
"Because I meant every one of them."
I grip his shoulders because suddenly my legs can't hold me up.
He kisses my forehead.
Then he lifts me again — as if I weigh nothing — and sets me back on the counter properly.
He steps back just enough to pick up the spatula.
"Now… sit there and look pretty while I finish breakfast."
"I— I'm not—"
He glances at me over his shoulder.
"Jay?"
"…What?"
"Don't argue."
He smirks.
"You're gorgeous, and I'm right."
My face is ON FIRE.
He laughs again — the happiest sound I've ever heard him make —
and goes back to cooking shirtless like an absolute menace.
And I…
sit there on the counter…
…trying very hard
not to fall in love with him all over again.
By the time the sun finally sinks behind the windows of the bungalow, I'm convinced of two things:
1} Mark Keifer Watson has zero awareness of the effect he has on me.
2} Or he knows exactly what he's doing and chooses violence every time.
Dinner was already too much—him leaning over me while showing me how to slice vegetables, his breath sliding along my cheek, that stupid deep voice asking:
"You like it when I stand behind you like this, Jay-Jay?"
And now… now the universe wants me to sleep in the same bed as him?
In a house he bought specifically to isolate me???
God must be watching this like it's a pay-per-view romance show.
He finishes showering first and comes out of the bathroom wearing—
No. No. Absolutely not.
He's in loose grey sweatpants and nothing else.
"Why are you like this?" I whisper without thinking.
Keifer raises a brow, towel around his neck, hair damp, voice sinfully amused.
"Like what? Beautiful? Tempting? Everything you secretly want?"
"I—NO. STOP TALKING."
He laughs, low and smug, and the sound hits me harder than gravity.
He grabs his phone, checks something, then climbs onto the bed—stretching out like he owns both the mattress and oxygen.
"Come here, Jay."
I stand frozen next to the bed.
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
He pats the space beside him.
"Don't make me pick you up again."
My soul threatens to detach.
He would.
He absolutely would.
I crawl into bed, keeping a respectful kilometer of distance between us, facing the opposite direction. I'm basically hugging the edge like it's a life raft.
For thirty seconds, it's peaceful.
Then the mattress dips behind me.
An arm slides around my waist.
Warm. Strong. Familiar.
I stiffen so fast my bones complain.
"What are you doing?" I hiss.
He hums softly, voice thick, warm, and too close.
"...You're very soft."
My brain explodes.
"WHAT— Keifer!"
He nuzzles the back of my neck. Nuzzles.
My entire nervous system goes offline.
"This helps me sleep faster," he murmurs.
"That is not— this is not sleeping protocol—"
"It is now."
I inhale sharply when his thumb gently strokes my waist. Not inappropriate. Just… comforting. Sweet. Warm. Ache-inducing.
But the worst part?
It feels… right.
I swallow hard, my voice cracking quietly.
"Why… why do you always have to be like this?"
He exhales against my neck, and I feel the truth before he says it.
"Because loving you is the only thing I've ever been sure of."
The universe sucker-punches me.
My eyes burn.
I bite my lip because crying would ruin everything, and yet—
"Keifer…" I whisper so softly it barely exists.
He squeezes my waist gently, not pulling me closer, just… grounding me.
"You're safe with me, Jay-Jay."
My heart folds in on itself like paper.
"Don't say things like that," I whisper, voice trembling.
He nuzzles again.
"Why not?"
"Because… because I'll believe you."
Silence.
Charged. Heavy. Too honest.
Then, quietly:
"Good. Believe me."
My chest aches so much it feels like it's splitting.
My breath keeps hitching. My shoulders shaking slightly.
Without thinking, I roll around—turning to face him.
He freezes, eyes widening a little, surprised but soft. Very soft.
I slowly slip my arms around him, resting my head against his chest.
His heartbeat stutters—then speeds up.
He wraps his arms around me instantly, pulling me close like I'm something precious.
The warmth of him—
God.
It feels like home.
"You okay?" he whispers into my hair.
I nod against his shoulder. "Just… tired."
That's not the truth.
I'm not tired.
I'm scared. I'm overwhelmed.
And I'm painfully, stupidly in love with him.
His hand slowly rubs circles on my back.
"Sleep," he whispers. "I'll be right here."
I want to argue. I want to pretend I'm unaffected.
But lying in his arms… his heartbeat under my cheek… his breath brushing my forehead…
My body melts.
My walls crack.
My heart betrays me completely.
I whisper, so faint he almost misses it:
"I think… I'm falling for you all over again."
His breath catches, a quiet, unsteady inhale.
He doesn't comment.
Doesn't tease.
Doesn't ruin the moment with a joke.
Instead, he pulls me impossibly closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head.
And that silence… that gentle, steady silence…
Feels more like love than any words.
Keifer's POV
I knew she'd fall asleep fast.
I didn't expect her to fall asleep holding me like this.
On my chest.
Breathing softly against my collarbone.
Her fingers curled into my shirt like she's scared I'll disappear.
God, she doesn't even know.
She thinks I'm the one protecting her.
But she's the one who keeps me steady.
She murmurs something in her sleep—my name, soft and broken and tender.
I close my eyes.
I'll wait as long as you need, Jay-Jay.
Jay-Jay's POV
For the first time in what feels like years, the weight on my chest loosens.
His arms around me feel like a promise.
His warmth feels like forgiveness.
And his heartbeat—steady, real, always there—
makes something inside me unclench.
Protected.
Wanted.
Cherished.
Loved.
The truth creeps in relentlessly:
I never stopped loving him.
And lying here…
I'm falling again, helplessly, beautifully—
even though a part of me never stopped.
Darkness finally softens around me, warm and safe.
And I sleep.
For the first time…
without fear.