KEIFER'S POV
THE MORNING AFTER — QUIET, WARM, TOO REAL
Sunlight filtered in before I did.
Soft. Gold. The kind that made the room look gentler than it ever was at night.
But that wasn't what woke me.
It was warmth.
Warmth curled into my chest. Warmth tucked beneath my chin. Warmth that breathed softly, slowly, like my heartbeat synced to hers while I slept.
Jay.
Jay in my arms.
Jay, asleep, wrapped in my sheets and absolutely destroying every last piece of self-control I'd ever claimed to have.
I tightened my arm around her without thinking, pulling her closer.
She made a tiny sound—half sigh, half complaint—her face burying deeper into my chest.
I froze.
God.
She was naked under the blanket.
Naked.
On me.
In my bed.
After last night—
Last night hit me like a punch:
her hands on my skin,
her voice breaking under my mouth,
her whisper in the dark,
"I want you."
I exhaled slowly, trying not to wake her.
Her thigh slid a little over mine from the movement.
I closed my eyes.
No.
No, no—control. I needed control.
But she made it difficult when she existed.
Her hair was a mess against the pillow, strands brushing my jaw.
Her fingers were curled around the chain on my neck like she'd grabbed it sometime in the night and never let go.
I looked down at her—carefully, quietly.
Her cheek pressed against me.
Her lips parted slightly.
Her breath warm on my collarbone.
She looked peaceful.
Safe.
Like she trusted me.
Me.
Of all people.
Something in my chest tightened painfully.
I lifted a hand and gently brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear.
She moved again—closer this time, her leg slipping between mine, her body pressing right against me like she belonged there.
I swallowed hard.
She's going to be the death of you, Watson.
Her voice—soft, sleepy—cut through the silence.
"Mm… stop thinking so loud."
I froze.
Her eyes were still closed, but she nudged her nose against my chest, fingers tightening slightly on my necklace.
A lazy, sleepy Jay was something no one had prepared me for.
"Go back to sleep," I whispered, my thumb brushing the curve of her shoulder.
She hummed, a tiny sound that went straight through me.
"No. You're warm."
"And you're freezing," I murmured, pulling the blanket higher over her bare back.
She snorted quietly.
"Whose fault is that?"
Mine.
Absolutely mine.
Her eyes finally blinked open—heavy, slow, still half-asleep.
She looked up.
At me.
At us.
At the absolute mess we must look like tangled together under the sheets.
Her cheeks flushed instantly.
My breath caught.
She didn't pull away.
She didn't scramble.
She didn't panic.
She just shifted closer, burying her face into my throat as if she'd been doing it every morning for years.
I wrapped my arms around her without thinking, holding her tight.
"Jay," I whispered into her hair, "are you okay?"
She nodded slowly, her voice muffled into my neck.
"I'm more than okay."
Her fingers traced absent patterns on my chest—light, gentle, addictive.
Then she whispered—
"…Are you?"
My jaw clenched for a second because I didn't know how to say everything I felt.
Yes.
Yes in ways I didn't know I was capable of feeling.
Yes in ways that terrified me.
Yes in ways that felt like I'd found something I'd never admit I was searching for.
I kissed the top of her head, breathing her in.
"I'm perfect," I murmured softly.
"Because you're here."
Her hand stilled… then squeezed lightly.
The sun warmed our skin.
The sheets tangled around us.
Our breaths synched again.
And for the first time in years—
Morning didn't feel empty.
It felt like a beginning.
JAY'S POV — THE PHONE THAT RUINS PEACE
Something buzzed.
I didn't move at first.
Keifer's arm was heavy around my waist, warm and possessive, his hand resting low—too low—for me to even pretend I wasn't enjoying it.
His breathing was slow. Even. Asleep.
I carefully reached toward the side table, trying not to wake him.
Buzz.
Buzz.
I squinted at the screen.
Stella.
Of course.
I answered in the smallest whisper possible:
"What."
Her voice exploded through the speaker.
"GOOD MORNING, MISS I-GOT-MY-BACK-BLOWN-OUT."
I slapped a hand over my mouth, eyes wide, staring at Keifer's sleeping face like he'd explode awake any second.
"STELLA—shhh! He's sleeping—"
"Oh, he was definitely not sleeping last night."
"STELLA!"
She snorted so loud I had to pull the phone under the blanket to muffle her.
"Anyway," she said dramatically, "update: Angelo called me."
My heart lurched.
"Oh my god—he knows?!"
"No," she said. "I told him you were with me… grieving. I also told him you'd be home before dinner."
I groaned into the pillow.
"Before dinner? That's like— that's so soon! Stella!"
"Yeah, well, maybe don't stay in the lion's den too long unless you want to walk funny back home."
I kicked the blanket violently in her direction.
She cackled.
"Bye, lover girl. Fix your hair before facing your man again."
Click.
Silence.
I sighed and slowly turned back around.
Keifer was exactly where I left him.
Still asleep.
Still warm.
Still hugging me like I was something he refused to let go of even unconscious.
His hair was messy. His lashes stupid long. His lips soft— Relaxed—
…And stupidly kissable.
I stared too long.
Too hard.
I whispered to myself, barely audible:
"Why are you so handsome…? It's unfair… ridiculous… illegal—"
Then—
His lip twitched.
I froze.
Another twitch.
His mouth pulled up ever so slightly.
Oh no.
Oh no.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
"You're awake."
Nothing.
Just a slow, traitorous smile forming lazily on his face.
I poked his cheek.
"KEIFER. WATSON. Wake up—"
His arms tightened around me instantly, dragging me closer until my chest pressed against his and my breath got stolen straight out of my lungs.
A deep, sleep-rough murmur vibrated against my throat:
"I've been awake since you said I'm handsome."
My face caught fire.
I shoved him lightly. "K-KEIFER—"
He only held tighter.
Then he opened his eyes.
Slow.
Heavy-lidded.
Still half-asleep but dangerously focused on me.
"Morning," he murmured, voice low and hoarse.
I swallowed.
"Morning."
He brushed his nose against my cheek, still smiling like the devil reincarnated.
"So…" he whispered, "what else were you saying about me while I was 'asleep'?"
I buried my face in the pillow.
"Nope. Goodbye. I'm leaving."
He laughed quietly, pulling me back.
"No you're not."
"I have to go home before dinner—"
"You have hours."
"Keifer—"
He pressed a soft kiss behind my ear.
My brain blue-screened.
"We're not done cuddling," he said simply.
And just like that—
I melted right back into his arms.
After some time "Keifer," I whispered into his chest, "we need to get up."
"No," he said instantly, pulling me back down like I was gravity itself.
"Yes," I insisted, prying his arm off my waist, "I need to shower and—"
I froze.
Oh.
Oh no.
I was very naked.
The blanket slipped slightly and I clutched it to my chest, eyes wide.
He smirked—slow, unapologetic, sinful.
"So," he said, eyes dragging lazily down my body and back up. "You finally noticed?"
I wanted to evaporate.
"Don't look at me like that—"
"I am looking," he said, voice low, "because you're beautiful. And because I have eyes."
I shoved his shoulder. "Shut up."
He didn't even budge.
Worse—he laughed. Quiet, deep, sleep-rough.
I tried to slide out of bed, but the moment my feet touched the floor—
Pain.
Not sharp. Not terrible.
But definitely last-night-was-wild pain.
My knees almost buckled.
I grabbed the edge of the bed, mortified.
Keifer raised a brow, smirking.
"Legs hurt?"
I glared. "I will kill you."
"You weren't saying that last ni—"
"KEIFER!"
He only stretched like a satisfied cat and watched me wobble toward the bathroom with the blanket wrapped around me like a desperate burrito.
I shut the door.
Hard.
＊＊＊ THE SHOWER — WHERE SHAME AND PANIC LIVE
Warm water helped.
A little.
But then reality drowned me:
I had.
No.
Clothes.
Nothing.
Not even underwear.
My soul left my body.
I cracked the door open just a little, steam drifting past me.
"Uh… Keifer?"
A lazy hum floated back.
I clenched my jaw.
"I don't have any clothes."
Silence.
Then:
"Okay."
"Okay?! What do you mean okay?!"
"Come out."
I froze.
"No!"
"Jay," he said, voice low enough to melt marble, "come out. I have it figured out."
"I'm not coming out naked!"
"You won't be."
A pause.
"…Unless you want to be."
"KEIFER."
I could hear his smile through the wall.
"Just come out."
I groaned into my hands.
Why did I even like this man? Why did I trust him? Why were my legs still shaking?
I tightened the towel around me—double knot—triple knot—fortress-level knot.
I cracked the bathroom door open just enough for one eye to peek out.
Keifer stood by the bed, shirtless, hair messy from sleep, looking at me like I was the most amusing creature on earth.
"Come here," he said softly.
"I'm not walking out in just a towel."
"You're not staying in there forever either."
"No, but—"
He walked forward, stopped in front of the door, and extended a hand.
"Trust me."
…Unfair. Unfair voice. Unfair face. Unfair everything.
I sighed loudly and stepped out, wrapped so tightly in the towel I could barely breathe.
But he didn't tease.
He just took my hand and gently tugged me down the joint room.
To a door.
Then he pushed it open.
My jaw dropped.
"Keifer… this is a— this is a whole room."
"My closet," he said casually.
A walk-in closet the size of my entire bedroom at home. Clothes. Shelves. Drawers. Lights too fancy for my taxes.
He opened one section.
And I froze.
Inside—folded neatly, organized perfectly—were clothes.
Women's clothes.
In my size.
Jeans that looked exactly my fit. Tops that matched my style. Shoes. And— My face went nuclear red. Even bras. Exactly my size.
I slowly turned to him, horrified.
"Keifer."
"Mhm?"
"Why do you—why is this—why do you have MY SIZE?!"
He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirk soft but devastating.
"Because I had it made."
"MADE?!"
"Yeah."
I blinked at him, speechless.
"You… had a whole wardrobe built. For who?!"
His eyes met mine.
"Take a wild guess."
My brain short-circuited. "Keifer— I— you— WHY?!"
"So when you stayed here," he said simply, "you'd be comfortable."
"I DIDN'T EVEN— WE WEREN'T— YOU DIDN'T KNOW—"
"I knew enough."
I threw a bra at him. He caught it one-handed without looking away.
"OUT," I squeaked.
He chuckled and walked out, closing the door behind him like he hadn't just dropped the most insane confession of the month.
I dressed mechanically, still in shock:
Perfect-fit jeans. A black belt. A scarlet red top that hugged my waist and dipped just enough to show a hint of cleavage.
I looked into the mirror.
And… wow.
I didn't look like the Jay who ran from drama 24/7.
I looked like the Jay who survived the night with a man like Keifer Watson.
And maybe liked it.
I inhaled, steadied myself, then stepped out—
Straight into a wall of steam.
And then—
Him.
Keifer walked out of the bathroom at that exact moment.
Hair dripping. Skin warm. Shoulders broad. Water sliding down his chest. Steam curling behind him like he was in a slow-motion movie scene.
And his towel—
Low.
Unacceptably. Dangerously. Hanging-by-a-thread low.
I choked on my own spit.
He paused mid-step when he saw me, eyes sweeping down my outfit slowly, deliberately, like he was memorizing every inch.
Then his lips curved.
"Jay."
I hated how my name sounded in his voice.
Loved it.
He walked toward me, droplets trailing down his torso, one hand casually adjusting the towel (which did exactly NOTHING to calm me).
"You look…" he murmured, eyes dipping to my neckline, "…beautiful."
I took a step back.
Big mistake—he stepped forward.
My back hit the door.
He stopped inches in front of me, one hand braced beside my head.
His breath warm against my cheek.
His voice deeper than the shower steam behind him.
"And you're staring."
"I AM NOT—"
"You are."
"I'M NOT STAR— stop— Keifer— put clothes on!"
He smirked.
"Why? You're wearing enough for both of us."
"KEIFER!!"
He laughed softly—low, warm, intimate—and brushed a drop of water from my collarbone with his thumb.
"Breakfast?" he asked like he hadn't just melted my entire nervous system.
I swallowed.
"…Yes. Please. Before I combust."
He leaned in, whispered against my ear:
"Too late."
And walked away.
I stood rooted in place, face exploding, soul ascending, and brain whispering:
I'm in trouble. I'm in SO much trouble.