Keifer POV
I came back from London with a suitcase full of regrets and a heart that hadn't stopped whispering her name.
JayJay.
Forty-five days.
Forty-five days of pretending I didn't miss her laugh, her rage, her profanity count that could rival a pirate ship.
I told myself it was for her protection.
That staying away would keep her safe from my family's war over inheritance, the company, the legacy I never asked for.
But the truth?
Missing her felt like punishment.
So I walked into her classroom.
Heart pounding like it owed me rent.
Didn't see her at first — just the usual chaos: half-asleep students, Sir Alvin mumbling about deadlines, the scent of cheap coffee and teenage doom.
Then the door creaked open.
And there she was.
JayJay.
Late, dramatic, perfect.
Hair wild, bag half-zipped, muttering about "stupid alarms" and "stupid gravity."
She didn't notice me.
Too busy laughing at something David said.
David.
Fucking David.
Why was he making her laugh?
Why was she leaning in like that?
Why was he allowed to breathe near her?
Jealousy twisted in my chest like a knife.
Sir Alvin started roll call.
She finally saw me.
Froze.
I smirked. Waved.
She rolled her eyes and turned away like I was a bad dream she refused to interpret.
Then Sir Alvin dropped the bomb: "JayJay, you'll help Keifer catch up."
Her face?
Comedy gold.
I nearly laughed out loud.
Bell rang.
I bolted outside to get my car.
Waited like a stalker with emotional damage.
She stepped out.
Beautiful.
Chaotic.
Lip gloss shining like it was mocking me.
I pulled up.
"Get in," I said.
She blinked. "Why would I?"
"Sir said you have to help me review."
She rolled her eyes. "Then let's go to the library."
"No. Come with me."
"I'm going home."
I panicked.
Called her twin.
Because yes, I'm that desperate.
Jare worked his magic.
She got in.
I handed her water.
She drank it, muttered "you better not poison me," and promptly fell asleep.
I stared at her.
Because how could I not?
She was chaos wrapped in lip gloss and sarcasm.
I drove.
Past the city.
Past the noise.
Past every mistake I made.
Until we reached the dock.
And then—
The island.
Yeah.
I bought her an island.
Because when you're in love with a girl who threatens you with forks and calls you "gago" in three languages, you either go big or go home.
And I didn't want to go home.
So I went big.
Private beach.
Glass windows.
A kitchen she'll insult.
A bedroom she'll refuse to sleep in.
And a view she'll pretend not to like.
All for her.
She stirred as the boat pulled up.
Then woke.
And chaos resumed.
She tried to escape.
I stopped her.
We went inside.
She cursed me nonstop.
I asked how many times she'd cursed.
She narrowed her eyes.
"Pro—" I started.
Her face shifted.
"Fa—"
She backed up.
"Ni—"
She reached for a pillow.
"Ty."
I stepped forward.
And then—
I launched myself at her like a romantic missile.
Crashed my mouth into hers.
Chaotic. Unapologetic.
She kissed back.
Then pulled away, breathless.
Glared.
And punched me.
Hard.
Right in the jaw.
I flinched.
Because it hurt.
Because I deserved it.
"I've been gone a month," I said, trying to sound offended and not emotionally wrecked, "and this is how you greet me? After our great kiss?"
She snapped, eyes blazing. "Don't remind me. I might be tempted to punch you again."
I grinned.
Because I'm an idiot.
"Careful. I might be tempted to kiss you again."
She blinked.
I smirked.
And her heart — I swear — did a full gymnastics routine.
She hated me.
She didn't really hate me.
And I hated that I loved her more than I knew what to do with.
Then she said it.
"You have the audacity to kiss me after telling me you used me?"
That one hit harder than the punch.
So I told her everything.
The plan.
The inheritance.
The reason I pushed her away.
And the truth — that I fell for her so hard it felt like punishment.
She didn't speak.
Just stood there.
Frozen.
I panicked.
"Go shower," I said, voice soft. "I'll make dinner."
She nodded.
Because food.
And maybe because she needed space.
I cooked like my life depended on it.
Because maybe it did.
She came out in one of my shirts.
And I swear my heart forgot how to beat.
She looked like home.
Like the beginning of every good thing I ruined.
We ate in silence.
Until I broke it.
"I missed you so much," I said, stealing glances between bites.
And then—
She said it.
"Me too."
I looked up.
Smiling like I'd won a war.
She panicked.
"I meant I missed you too, ice cream."
I didn't call her out.
Just smiled.
Because I knew.
She missed me.
Even if she'd never admit it.
Even if she stabbed me with a fork.
Even if she cursed me 450,450 times.
She missed me.
And I?
I'd count every curse.
Every kiss.
Every second I get to earn her back.
Because JayJay Mariano?
She's chaos.
She's fire.
She's mine.
Even when she's not.