Jayjay's POV
Law class had a way of draining the air out of the room.
The teacher paced at the front, voice clipped, eyes sharp like he was always looking for someone to catch slipping. I kept my injured hand close to my body, resting it lightly on my notebook, trying not to draw attention.
It didn't work.
"Jayjay."
My name snapped through the room.
"Yes, sir?"
"Go to my office and bring the constitutional law reference. The blue one. Top shelf."
A few heads turned.
Before I could stand, Chantelle raised her hand. "Sir, she has a hand injury. I can go instead."
The teacher barely glanced at her. "If a little bandage stops her from carrying a book, then perhaps she should reconsider studying law."
A low murmur spread across the class.
Heat rushed to my face, but I stood anyway. "It's fine."
His eyes flicked to my hand. "Careful then. Wouldn't want you using that as an excuse later."
Not painful words.
Just sharp ones. The kind that linger.
I walked out before he could say more.
The hallway was quieter than the classroom, but my thoughts were loud. I reached his office, stretched carefully, and pulled the heavy book from the shelf. The weight shifted awkwardly against my injured hand.
Bad idea.
By the time I turned back toward the classroom, my grip was slipping. I adjusted, then winced as a dull ache spread up my arm.
"Jay."
I froze.
Keifer stood a few steps away. Of course he did.
And beside him, like a shadow that never left, was Sienna.
"That looks heavy," he said, already moving toward me.
"I've got it," I replied automatically.
He ignored that and reached for the book. "Let me."
Before I could respond, Sienna spoke. "Keifer, we're going to be late. She can handle it."
He didn't even look at her.
He took the book from my hands with ease, his grip steady, careful not to brush my injured hand. Relief rushed through me before I could stop it.
"I told you to be careful," he said quietly, not scolding. Just concerned.
Sienna stepped closer. "Keifer, we really should—"
"Go back to class," he said to her.
The words were calm. The look wasn't.
She stopped mid-sentence.
For a second, she looked like she wanted to argue. Then whatever she saw in his eyes made her press her lips together.
"…Fine," she said, turning away.
She walked off without another word.
I watched her go, then looked back at him. "You didn't have to do that."
"I did," he replied simply.
We started walking toward my classroom.
"Who sent you?" he asked.
"The law professor."
He nodded once. "Did he know you're injured?"
"Chantelle told him."
"And?"
I hesitated. "He said if a bandage stops me from carrying a book, I should rethink law."
Keifer stopped walking.
I turned back to him. "It's not a big deal."
His jaw tightened slightly. "It is."
He didn't say anything else, just resumed walking. But something about his silence felt louder than anger.
When we reached the classroom door, I reached for the book. "I'll take it from here."
He handed it back carefully.
"Thank you," I said, meaning more than just the book.
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek.
Just once.
Warm. Gentle. Unexpected.
My breath caught.
Before I could say anything, he stepped back, then started walking away… backwards.
He smiled at me. That easy, familiar smile. The one that made everything feel steadier.
"Don't push yourself," he said.
Then he turned and disappeared down the hall.
I stood there for a moment, heart racing, cheek warm, the weight of the book suddenly lighter than before.
When I walked back into class, Chantelle looked at me like she knew something had happened.
I sat down quietly, opened the book, and focused on the page.
But I couldn't stop smiling.