CHAPTER THREE
BETWEEN US FOUR
Jay's POV
It started with a pencil.
Not a sharp insult. Not a smug comment. A pencil.
My pencil rolled off my desk during math. I bent down to get it — but it was already in his hand.
Keifer Watson.
Holding it between two fingers, casually, like he hadn't spent the last week acting like I was a disease in human form.
I reached out to take it.
He didn't give it.
Instead, he leaned in slightly — just enough to whisper without anyone else hearing.
"Try not to break your nose again."
My eyes narrowed. "Funny."
He smirked, then let the pencil go. It dropped on my notebook like a challenge.
But he didn't lean back right away.
His voice was softer this time. "Glad you're back."
And then — nothing.
No teasing. No follow-up insult. No evil laughter from the back row.
Just him, turning around like he didn't just drop a verbal grenade into my brain.
I sat frozen.
What the hell was that?
The next day, he sat behind me.
Not across the room like always — behind me.
And then during break, when someone tried to throw a juice box at my chair, Keifer turned around and gave them one look.
It never landed.
What. Was. Happening.
"Why is he being…weird?" I whispered to Alys while we sat in the hallway.
She looked over her soda can. "Define weird."
"Not being a jerk. Being—" I struggled. "...Nice?"
Alys choked. "Keifer Watson? Nice?"
"He smirked when I got a question wrong," I muttered.
"And?"
"He helped me find the right answer. Without saying I was stupid."
Her eyes widened. "Okay, maybe he's sick."
Or maybe I was. Because every time he got close, every time he leaned over my desk, every time he spoke to me in that low, amused tone—
My stomach flipped.
And I hated it.
Alys' POV
Drake Palma still didn't speak.
Still didn't smile.
Still didn't acknowledge that I existed unless absolutely necessary.
But lately?
Whenever I said something annoying — which was often on purpose — he looked at me.
Not a long look. Not romantic. But enough to notice. Enough to feel.
Today, I kicked the leg of his desk as I walked past.
Barely a tap.
He looked up.
Not angry. Not bored. Just…silent. Direct.
His sketchpad stayed open. He didn't hide it.
I slowed. Looked down.
A messy drawing. A classroom. A figure sitting in the middle row — hair tied up, back straight.
It looked suspiciously like Jay.
Or maybe me.
I didn't ask. I just smiled like I wasn't curious.
And he didn't tell me to go away.
Which, by Drake Palma standards?
Might as well be a love letter.
Jay's POV
"Watson's looking at you again," Alys whispered during science.
"I know," I hissed, not looking up from my notes.
"What did you do to him?"
"Nothing."
But something had definitely changed.
We still bickered. Still argued. But there was something else now — something underneath it all. A twitch in his lips when I got flustered. The way he leaned a little too close when handing me a worksheet.
The way he lingered.
Like he enjoyed watching me lose my balance.
And I hated it.
Because I didn't know what to do with it.
I didn't like him.
I didn't like that I might like him.
I didn't like that he was suddenly trying to be funny, or helpful, or protective in a way that wasn't obvious — just subtle enough to mess with my head.
Section E still didn't talk to us.
But two of them?
Were starting to shift.
And it was terrifying.
End of Chapter Three