Chapter: You're Not Even Mine
(Jay's POV)
I don't get jealous.
I observe.
I analyze.
I judge silently.
That's it.
That's what I told myself while standing near the corridor railing, watching Keifer Watson laugh at something Freya from Section A said.
Freya.
Tall. Confident. Perfect ponytail. The kind of girl who says "oh please" in English even when we're not speaking English.
And Keif?
He was leaning casually against the wall, one hand in his pocket, head tilted slightly down as he listened to her.
Listening.
Smiling.
Actually smiling.
I felt something ugly crawl up my chest.
It wasn't anger.
It wasn't sadness.
It was… territorial.
Aries walked past me and followed my line of sight.
"Oh," he said.
"Oh what?" I snapped.
"Nothing. Just observing."
"Observe somewhere else."
He smirked. "You look like you're about to commit a crime."
"I am perfectly calm."
Freya touched Keif's arm while laughing.
I swear the air changed.
My fingers tightened around the notebook I was holding.
Why is she touching him?
Why is he letting her?
Why is he smiling like that?
I turned away.
I don't care.
He's not mine.
He's not my anything.
He's just—
Keifer Watson.
Idiot.
Annoying.
Overprotective.
Stupidly kind at 2 a.m.
My chest felt tight.
I walked straight toward them before my brain could stop me.
"Keifer Watson."
Silence.
Both of them looked at me.
I never call him by his full name.
Ever.
Freya blinked. "Oh— hi, Jay."
I ignored her.
"Can I talk to you?" I asked him.
My voice was calm.
Too calm.
He studied my face carefully.
"Sure."
Freya smiled politely. "We were just discussing the inter-section event—"
"It can wait," I said, still looking at him.
He pushed himself off the wall.
"Give us a minute," he told her.
She nodded, but I could feel her eyes on us as we walked away.
The moment we turned the corner into the empty staircase area, I stopped.
He turned to face me.
"What happened?"
"What was that?"
"What was what?"
"Don't act dumb."
His eyebrows lifted slightly. "Jay—"
"Why were you smiling like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like that."
"You need to be more specific."
My chest was rising too fast.
I hated this feeling.
Hated it.
"She was touching you," I said.
He looked down at his arm like he'd forgotten it existed.
"That?"
"Yes, that."
"She touched my arm for two seconds."
"You didn't move."
He stared at me for a second.
Then something shifted in his expression.
"Are you jealous?" he asked quietly.
"No."
Too fast.
Too defensive.
He stepped closer.
Not threatening.
Just closer.
"Jay."
"I'm not jealous."
"You're calling me Keifer Watson."
"That's your name."
"You only use it when you're mad."
"I'm not mad."
"You're shaking."
I looked down.
My fingers were trembling slightly.
Great.
Perfect.
Embarrassing.
I looked back at him and before I could stop myself—
I grabbed his collar.
Not violently.
Just enough to pull him slightly toward me.
His eyes widened slightly.
"You belong to me," I said.
The words came out before I could think.
The staircase went silent.
Even my heartbeat felt loud.
His voice dropped. "What?"
"You heard me."
I didn't even recognize myself.
"You don't stand there smiling with other girls like that," I continued. "You don't let them touch you. You don't—"
I stopped.
Because suddenly it hit me.
What am I saying?
What right do I have?
I slowly loosened my grip.
My face burned.
"I—" I stepped back. "Forget it."
I turned to leave.
This is stupid.
This is so stupid.
He's not mine.
He never said he was.
We're not anything.
Before I could walk away, his hand caught my wrist.
Not tight.
Just stopping me.
"Jay."
His voice wasn't teasing anymore.
It was serious.
I didn't turn around.
"Let go."
"No."
I swallowed.
"Why are you acting like this?" he asked.
"I told you to forget it."
"You don't get jealous over nothing."
"I'm not jealous!"
"You just said I belong to you."
Silence.
My throat felt dry.
"You're not even my boyfriend," I muttered.
There it is.
The truth.
Ugly.
Raw.
He stepped in front of me so I had to look at him.
"Then what am I?" he asked.
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because I didn't know.
He's not my friend in a normal way.
He's not just my classmate.
He's not my brother.
He's not my boyfriend.
He's something in between.
Something dangerous.
"You act like you're mine," I whispered.
"And you hate that?"
"No."
That word slipped out without hesitation.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
"Say it again," he said softly.
"I don't hate it."
His grip on my wrist loosened but didn't disappear.
"I am only yours, Jay," he said quietly.
My heart skipped.
But I shook my head.
"Don't say that."
"Why?"
"Because you're not."
His jaw tightened slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean you're free. You can talk to whoever you want. Smile at whoever you want."
"But you don't like it."
"No."
"So what's the problem?"
I laughed bitterly.
"The problem is I don't have the right to feel like this."
Silence.
The staircase suddenly felt too small.
"You don't get to claim me," I said quietly. "Not when you're not even my boyfriend."
The word hung between us.
Boyfriend.
It sounded heavy.
Serious.
Terrifying.
He stepped closer again.
Close enough that I could feel his breath.
"And if I was?" he asked.
My heart nearly exploded.
"Don't," I whispered.
"Answer me."
"If you were," I said slowly, "then I would have the right."
"To what?"
"To say you're mine."
My voice cracked on the last word.
I hated that.
He studied my face like he was trying to memorize every emotion.
"You think I don't feel it?" he asked.
"Feel what?"
"This."
His hand hovered near my waist but didn't touch.
"This pull. This anger when someone looks at you. This urge to stand between you and everyone else."
My breathing stopped.
"You think I wasn't jealous when Kiko talked to you?" he continued.
I blinked.
"You were?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
He almost laughed. "You're impossible."
"You smiled at her," I said stubbornly.
"And you grabbed my collar."
We stared at each other.
Then suddenly—
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
But because this was ridiculous.
"I hate this," I muttered.
"Why?"
"Because I don't like needing someone."
His expression softened.
"You don't need me," he said quietly.
"That's worse."
"Why?"
"Because I want you."
There.
I said it.
The truth.
Not love.
Not yet.
But something real.
His eyes darkened slightly.
"Jay."
"What?"
"You already act like I'm yours."
"You act like you're mine too."
"Maybe I am."
Silence.
My heart was racing so fast it hurt.
"Then what are we?" I asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he stepped back slightly.
Giving me space.
Choice.
"I don't want to rush you," he said. "You're scared of losing things."
That hit deeper than I expected.
"You don't say the word," he continued softly. "You stop before it. You pull away before it becomes real."
I looked down.
He wasn't wrong.
"I don't want to be another thing you're afraid of," he finished.
The staircase felt quiet again.
Heavy.
"So what now?" I asked.
He looked at me steadily.
"Now we don't pretend."
"Meaning?"
"If you're jealous, say it."
I hesitated.
"…I was jealous."
"Good."
"If you're jealous, you say it too."
"I will."
"And don't smile at Freya like that."
He almost smirked. "So I can't smile now?"
"Not like that."
He leaned slightly closer again, but not trapping me.
Just close.
"Then give me a reason to smile like that only at you."
My face burned.
"You're so annoying."
"And you're possessive."
"I am not."
"You grabbed my collar."
I covered my face for a second.
"Please forget that happened."
"Never."
I groaned.
He gently moved my hands away from my face.
"Jay."
"What?"
"I don't belong to Section A."
"I know."
"I don't belong to Freya."
"Good."
"I don't belong to anyone."
My chest tightened.
Then he finished—
"Except maybe the girl who almost said she loved me yesterday."
My brain stopped functioning.
"I did not—"
"You did."
"I didn't finish."
"You were going to."
I stepped back, flustered.
"You're not even my boyfriend," I repeated weakly.
He tilted his head.
"Do you want me to be?"
The question hit like thunder.
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"…I don't know."
Honest.
Scared.
Real.
He nodded slowly.
"Then we'll figure it out."
"And until then?"
He looked at me like the answer was obvious.
"Until then," he said calmly, "I'm still yours."
My heart betrayed me again.
I looked away quickly.
"You're so confident."
"No," he replied quietly. "Just sure."
Of what?
Of me?
I didn't ask.
Because I was afraid of the answer.
Instead, I pushed him lightly on the shoulder.
"Don't let her touch you again."
He laughed softly.
"Yes, ma'am."
"And don't smile like that."
"Like what?"
"Like she's interesting."
He leaned closer and said—
"She's not."
My stomach flipped.
I turned and walked toward the stairs.
Halfway down, I stopped.
Without turning around, I said—
"I was jealous."
"I know."
"And I don't like it."
"I know."
"But if you ever act like that again…"
He waited.
"I'll grab your collar again."
His laugh echoed in the staircase.
And for the first time—
I didn't feel stupid for feeling this way.
Because maybe I don't have the right yet.
Maybe he's not my boyfriend.
Maybe I don't say the word.
But the truth?
When I see him with someone else—
It feels wrong.
And that has to mean something.