JAY-JAY POV
I stepped outside.
A car pulled up.
Keifer.
"Get in," he said like he was casting me in a hostage movie.
"Why would I?" I snapped.
"Sir said you have to help me review."
"Then let's go to the library. It's literally right there."
"Come on, Jay."
"No. I'm going home."
He sighed. "Fine. Talk to your twin."
He called Kuya Jare.
"What do you want, Keifer?" Jare asked, already annoyed.
"Your sister's refusing to come with me."
Snake.
"Jay, go with him. Finish your tasks. No questions. Come home after."
WHAT THE HELL?
I got in the car.
Keifer handed me water like he was being nice.
I drank it.
Next thing I knew?
I was asleep.
This man really hydrated me into unconsciousness.
Unbelievable.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________
I woke up in a room that smelled expensive.
Waves crashing outside.
Lip gloss still intact.
Unacceptable.
I got up, tiptoed to the door, and tried the handle.
Unlocked.
Perfect.
I bolted.
Down the hallway, past the fancy furniture, out the front door—
Freedom.
I was halfway down the driveway when I heard it.
"Jay."
I turned.
Keifer.
Standing there like he hadn't just drugged me with hydration and emotional confusion.
"Where are you going?" he asked, calm. Too calm.
"Home," I snapped.
"You're supposed to help me review."
"I'll review your life choices."
He walked toward me.
I backed up.
He smirked. "You're wearing slippers."
I looked down.
Damn it.
I was.
"Get back inside," he said.
"No."
"Jay."
"I swear I will scream."
"Go ahead. The waves will clap for you."
I glared.
He held out his hand.
I didn't take it.
But I walked back inside.
Because slippers.
And betrayal.
And the fact that my heart was still doing cartwheels.
Stupid heart.
Stupid Keifer.
Stupid waves.
"You stupid gago, animal, piece of shit!" I cursed, stomping back inside like a storm in lip gloss.
Keifer didn't blink.
"On a daily basis," he asked, "how many times do you curse?"
"Depends," I said sweetly. "Every time I think about you, I hit a hundred."
He smirked. "So I was gone for 45 days. You thought about me daily."
This man was so full of himself, I swear he could float.
"Sometimes I hit a thousand," I snapped. "Especially when I remember your nonsense, you damned animal."
He nodded like he was solving a math problem. "So… 450,000 curses. Add the ones I overheard, maybe 450,437."
Wait—who was reporting my swears?
"What is wrong with you?" I asked. "Why are you counting my profanity like it's a love language?"
His smile widened.
My heart screamed: RUN.
"Pro—" he started.
No.
"Fa—"
My eyes widened.
I knew what was coming.
"Ni—"
I backed up.
"Ty."
OH HELL NO.
And then—
He launched himself at me like a romantic missile.
His lips crashed into mine, chaotic and unapologetic.
I tried to resist.
I really did.
But his mouth was doing things.
Dangerous things.
And as much as I hated it—
I missed this.
Missed him.
Missed the way he kissed like he was trying to erase every curse word and replace it with "mine."
This kiss?
It didn't stop at just lips.
His hands were wandering — bold, reckless, in places they had no business being.
"Keifer!" I gasped, pulling back like I'd touched fire.
He blinked, dazed. Like I was the one who started it.
"What?" he asked, voice low, dangerous, annoyingly hot.
I shoved him. "Your hands have no GPS. They're trespassing."
He smirked. "They missed you."
"I will break your fingers."
"Romantic."
I glared, heart pounding like it was auditioning for a drama series.
Because yes, I missed him.
Yes, the kiss made my brain short-circuit.
But no, I was not about to let this man turn a review session into a rom-com with boundary violations.
I stepped back.
He stepped forward.
I grabbed a pillow and launched it at his face.
"Touch me again without permission and I'll curse you 450,438 times."
He caught the pillow mid-air.
Smiling.
Like he was falling in love with my rage.
And my rage?
Was falling in love with revenge.