Keifer's POV
I wake up with a headache, a dry throat, and the faint memory of Jay standing in our shared dorm in nothing but a towel.
Correction: A very small towel.
Correction again: I didn't lose sleep over it. Not even a minute.
Okay, maybe a minute. Or ten.
"You're so full of yourself." Her voice echoes in my head, from last night. Yeah? So is she. That's the problem. She's me, but hot, sarcastic, and terminally insufferable.
I get dressed-black Henley, grey jeans, watch-everything crisp. By the time I grab my bag, I hear her door creak open. I don't even look her way. Not because I'm not curious. But because I can't be that guy. The guy who looks at Jay Garcia like he actually gives a shit.
Still... I notice her perfume trails me into the hallway. Vanilla, musk, something expensive.
I hate it. I hate how good it smells. I hate how it smells like her.
Jay's POV
Business Strategy is the one class I actually enjoy. Not because of the content. Because I dominate it.
I walk in like I own the building, stilettos sharp enough to cut egos. And then my ego dies.
Because he's already there. Front row.
Keifer Wilton, legs stretched out like he's modeling for a billionaire bachelor calendar.
Our eyes meet. I roll mine. He smirks.
Professor Clarke calls the room to order. "This year, you'll work in pairs for your final grade. I've made the selections myself."
My heart drops. No. No, no, no-
"Jay Garcia and Keifer Wilton."
Kill me.
He turns around slowly, grin smug.
"Looks like you're stuck with me, sweetheart."
I smile. Tight. "Guess I'll have to carry the whole damn project."
He leans back. "You sure your shoulders are strong enough, princess?"
God. Give me strength. Or give me poison.
Keifer's POV
We sit in the library, supposed to be planning the pitch deck. What we're actually doing is passive-aggressively rearranging pens, interrupting each other, and fighting like we're on a reality show.
"So your idea is to rebrand luxury tech with empathy?" she scoffs.
"It's innovative," I reply, deliberately brushing my leg against hers under the table.
She freezes.
"Stop doing that."
"Doing what?" I ask innocently, not moving.
Her glare could shatter diamond. Her cheeks are a little flushed though.
Good. Let her squirm. She's always been good at hiding things. Especially reactions.
She snatches my notes. I reach over and grab her wrist gently-but firmly -before she pulls them away.
She stiffens. Doesn't pull back.
"You're awfully touchy today," she says. Her voice is flat. But her breathing gives her away.
"You touched me first," I murmur.
She looks at me, hard. Our faces are close. Really close. Her lips twitch-maybe to say something. Maybe just a tic. Either way, my eyes drop for a split second.
Bad move.
Because now I can't stop thinking about how soft they looked. And how much I want to know if they feel the same.
She yanks her hand away and shoves the papers into her folder. "We're not doing this."
"Not doing what?"
"This." She gestures at the electric storm between us. "Whatever the hell this is."
I don't answer.
Because I don't know what this is either.
Jay's POV
We head to the café near campus to finish the proposal. Keifer orders my usual before I even open my mouth.
"Still addicted to hazelnut?" he asks like it's nothing.
I blink. "How do you remember that?"
He shrugs. "I don't forget things. Especially not things I'm forced to see every year at every holiday party since I was ten."
"Oh, so you were watching me back then too?"
He raises a brow. "Careful, Garcia. That almost sounded like flirtation."
I hate him.
He leans across the table as I speak, and I reach to grab his notebook.
He doesn't let me.
Instead, he traps my wrist gently against the tabletop. Not hard. Not rough. Just controlled.
My skin burns.
"Let go," I whisper.
"Say please."
I stare at him.
He's close. Too close. The café hum disappears. All I can hear is his breathing.
His fingers don't tighten. They just stay there. Pressing. Holding. Knowing.
I hate how I'm reacting.
I yank my hand free. My whole body feels like it's on fire. I push my chair back, ready to leave.
But he grabs my wrist again-this time less playful, more serious.
"Jay," he murmurs.
I pause.
His voice drops, quiet, low: "You can hate me all you want, Garcia. But don't pretend you're not feeling it."
I say nothing. I just walk away.
Because he's right.
And that pisses me off more than anything else in this world.
Chapter 2 END
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They are on fire ON!
I think you all are loving this⚡
I hope you keep loving in upcoming chapters also .
I will be posting two chapters of this book everyday and one chapter of the other book everyday. .. today I was able to post fast because the chapters were already kept in my draft and I just need to fix something that's why the chapter were early today.. Hope u all enjoy...
Just to remind you I am writing two books together, so someday I might post early and some days I might post late so please don't get angry on me for not having a regular time for posting. . Hope u all understand..
Good night for now🌉
Bubye✨
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