KEIFER'S POV — THE DRIVE BACK
The drive back was quieter.
Not calm.
Charged.
The kind of silence that pressed against my ribs.
Jay sat beside me, seatbelt on, flowers resting in her lap. The city lights slid across the windshield, across her face. She looked out the window, but I knew she wasn't really watching the road.
Neither was I.
Every red light felt like a mercy.
Every green one felt like a threat.
Her perfume still filled the car—soft, warm, wrapped around me like a memory I didn't want to survive without.
I pulled into her street.
Slowed.
Stopped.
The engine idled.
She reached for the door handle.
And something in me snapped.
"Jay."
My voice came out rougher than I intended.
She froze, hand still on the handle. Turned to look at me.
"Yes?"
I didn't answer with words.
I reached for her wrist instead—gentle but sure—and pulled her back toward me.
She gasped softly, more surprised than afraid, and suddenly she was closer. Too close.
I leaned in.
The space between us disappeared.
The kiss wasn't careful.
It wasn't practiced.
It was raw.
Messy.
All the restraint I'd been holding onto shattered at once.
Her hands came up instinctively, fingers curling into my shirt like she needed something solid to stay upright. I kissed her again—deeper this time—like I'd been starving and only just realized it.
She kissed me back just as hard.
No hesitation.
No uncertainty.
Just heat.
Her breath trembled against my mouth, and she shifted—clumsy, unplanned—ending up half turned toward me, knee pressing against my thigh.
I groaned before I could stop myself.
"Keifer," she whispered, breathless.
I pulled back just enough to rest my forehead against hers, hands gripping her waist like that was the only thing keeping me grounded.
"This is me holding back," I said quietly.
Her eyes were dark, lips swollen, breath uneven.
"Then stop holding back," she said softly.
That almost broke me.
I kissed her again—but slower this time. Controlled. Intentional. Like I was proving something to myself.
Her fingers slid up to my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek, and for a moment everything went quiet.
Just us.
Just breathing.
Just wanting.
I forced myself to pull away.
Barely.
My hands stayed on her waist.
My voice dropped. "If I don't stop now…Jay..uhh."
She searched my face.
Her breath was uneven. Her fingers were curled into my shirt like she was holding herself together through me.
She didn't pull away.
Didn't hesitate.
She lifted her chin just slightly and whispered
"Then don't."
That was it.
Whatever fragile control I had left shattered.
I kissed her again.
Harder than before.
Not rushed—hungry. Like I'd been waiting too long to say something my mouth finally understood. Her lips moved with mine immediately, no surprise, no fear—just certainty.
Her hands slid up, one resting at the back of my neck, the other flat against my chest like she could feel my heart racing under her palm.
I breathed her in.
Her warmth. Her scent. Her.
I kissed her slower this time, deeper, like I was memorizing her. Like I needed to remember exactly how this felt when she wasn't right here.
She shifted closer, rising just enough that I had to pull her nearer to me, arms tightening instinctively.
We were breathing the same air.
Time stopped making sense.
I kissed her again—soft this time, forehead to forehead afterward, noses brushing.
"Jay," I murmured.
She smiled against my mouth.
That smile almost undid me.
She kissed me once more—gentler, deliberate—then pulled back before I could stop her.
Before either of us went too far.
She rested her forehead against mine, eyes closed.
"We should stop," she said quietly.
I nodded, even though every part of me protested.
She stepped back slowly, hands trailing from my chest like she was leaving something behind on purpose.
She opened the door.
Paused.
Looked back at me.
Her eyes were warm. Steady. Certain.
"Goodnight, Keifer."
My voice came out low. "Goodnight."
She closed the door.
And I sat there long after—hands still where she'd been, heart still racing—
Knowing that wasn't just a kiss.
It was a promise...
JAY'S POV —
I closed the door quietly behind me.
Too quietly.
That should've been my first clue.
"Wow."
I froze.
Percy was leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, hair damp like he'd showered recently. Half-awake. Fully smug.
"You look," he continued thoughtfully, eyes scanning me head to toe, "like someone just committed a felony-level make-out."
I groaned. "Percy."
He grinned wider. "So. How was the date?"
"Normal," I lied, slipping out of my boots.
He scoffed. "Jay, your lips are swollen."
I blinked. "They are not."
"They absolutely are."
I brushed past him, heat rushing to my face. "Go to sleep."
He followed me a few steps, still teasing. "Did he kiss you?"
"No."
"That pause was criminal."
I shot him a look. "You're annoying."
"And you're smiling," he shot back. "Like that."
I didn't respond.
Didn't need to.
Because he already knew.
"Goodnight, sistah," Percy said, voice softer now. "I'm glad you're happy."
That stopped me.
I glanced back at him.
"…Goodnight."
I escaped to my room before he could say anything else.
---
The moment the door shut, the quiet rushed in.
I leaned against it, heart still racing.
Too fast.
Too loud.
I touched my lips without thinking.
And there it was.
The memory.
Keifer's voice—If I don't stop now, I won't.
My own—Then don't.
My stomach flipped.
I crossed the room slowly, sat on the edge of my bed, then lay back, staring at the ceiling as the moment replayed like it had branded itself into me.
The way he kissed me—like he was holding back something powerful. The way he stopped—because he respected me. The way he looked at me afterward—steady, certain, real.
Not just desire.
Choice.
I curled onto my side, hugging my pillow to my chest, smiling into the quiet.
Outside, the city hummed.
Inside, my heart finally slowed.
And with his name still warm on my lips—
I fell asleep...