Jealousy doesn't announce itself.
It slips in quietly, settling under my ribs, tightening every time Jay Jay laughs at something Kiko says.
He's too close.
Close enough that I notice before she does.
I tell myself not to move.
I don't own her.
I don't get to interrupt.
I don't get to—
She turns suddenly, eyes finding me a few steps behind.
"Oh," she says. "I thought you went ahead."
"I slowed down," I answer.
Kiko looks between us, amused. Curious. Like he's piecing something together.
"You didn't say you were with someone," he tells her.
Jay Jay opens her mouth.
I speak instead.
"She doesn't need to."
My voice is calm. Too calm.
Kiko raises an eyebrow. "Relax, man."
Jay Jay stiffens.
I feel it instantly.
I step back half a step. Just enough.
Kiko laughs awkwardly. "I'll see you later."
And then he's gone.
The moment he disappears, the silence hits harder.
Jay Jay turns to me, confusion written all over her face.
"What was that?" she asks. "What are you doing?"
I don't have an answer prepared.
That's the problem.
"I don't know," I say honestly.
Her brows knit together. "You don't know?"
"No," I repeat. My chest feels tight. Raw. "I just—"
The words slip before I can stop them.
"And you're mine."
The second it leaves my mouth, the world freezes.
Jay Jay stares at me.
I realize what I said. How it sounded. How fast it came out.
I don't reach for her.
I don't step closer.
I stay right where I am.
Her voice is quiet. "Keifer… what does that even mean?"
"It means," I say slowly, choosing every word now, "that I don't know how to pretend I don't feel this. And I don't know how to explain it without sounding like I'm crossing a line."
"You are crossing one," she says.
"I know." My jaw tightens. "That's why I'm not moving."
She exhales, running a hand through her hair. "You confuse me."
"I confuse myself," I admit.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
Then she says, softer, "You can't just say things like that."
"I won't say it again," I reply immediately. "Unless you ask me to."
Her eyes flicker—surprised by that.
I step back another inch, creating space I don't want but know she needs.
"I'm not claiming you," I say quietly. "I'm just being honest."
She doesn't respond.
When she finally walks away, she doesn't look back.
I stand there longer than I should.
Because the truth is—I don't know what I'm doing.
I just know that for one unguarded second, my control slipped.
And she saw exactly how much she matters to me.