I couldn't sleep. Not last night, not tonight, and judging by the way my body felt, probably not tomorrow either.
Every corner of my condo felt suffocating, every shadow haunted by her. Jay-Jay. Her name was a whisper in my mind, echoing against the walls of my sanity. Eight years had passed, and still, I couldn't escape her. I shouldn't want to see her so badly. I should control myself. But the thought of her untouchable, calm, teasing me from her balcony—it was unbearable.
I ran my hands through my hair, pacing the room. My thoughts were relentless:
She's mine. She can't just walk away from me again. She'll see… she has to see.
I grabbed my jacket and stormed out of the apartment, my boots hitting the rooftop tiles with a sharp rhythm. The rooftop garden connecting the two condos was deserted. Perfect. Except for her.
There she was. Jay. Reclining against the railing, sunglasses on, reading something on her tablet. The sunlight caught her hair, making it glow like it always did. My chest tightened so much I thought I might collapse.
I wanted to run to her. To grab her hand. To just touch her and make her feel what I was feeling. But I stopped a few meters away, just watching. She looked so calm, so untouchable, it drove me insane.
"Morning," I muttered, barely able to contain the growl in my voice.
Her eyes flicked up. No surprise, just that sharp, calm stare that always made me feel like I was exposed and powerless.
"You're early," she said casually, tilting her head. "Or maybe I'm late?"
"Neither," I said, stepping a little closer. "I just… wanted to see you."
She laughed softly. The sound—light, teasing, untouchable—made my pulse spike. "Wanted to see me? Or spy on me from your condo all morning?"
I swallowed hard. She was sharp, untouchable, teasing me, and yet every word she said was a spark igniting the fire in me. "Maybe a little of both," I admitted, and the words were reckless and dangerous, and I didn't care.
Her lips curved slightly, and for a brief moment, I imagined her smiling at me, really smiling, not teasing, not calm, just… open. My chest ached.
I stepped closer, reckless now, ignoring the distance she had carefully maintained for years. "You can't stay untouchable forever," I whispered.
Her eyes flickered—surprise? Maybe irritation. She shifted, moving her body so she was just out of reach, but still watching. "And if I don't want to be touched?" she said softly.
I smirked, close enough that the heat from her skin reached me, making my heart hammer. "Then I'll have to… convince you."
She flinched slightly, just a twitch, but it was enough to make my chest squeeze. That tiny reaction—it was all I needed to know she could feel me too. That I was getting to her.
I reached out, careful, slow. Our fingers almost touched the railing between us. Her hand twitched reflexively, moving just slightly, keeping distance. And that… that almost drove me insane.
"Keifer," she said sharply, still calm, still teasing, "this is… dangerous."
"I like danger," I whispered, stepping closer. "And you… you're worth it."
Her lips parted, eyes widening fractionally, and I thought, Finally. That reaction, small as it was, made me feel victorious and desperate all at once. But she stepped back just enough to remind me—walls still existed. Boundaries still held.
I clenched my fists, breath heavy, staring at her. "You can't run forever, Jay. You've tried before. Eight years, and now… you're mine. Whether you like it or not."
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "You really think that's how this works? You're reckless, obsessive… and yet I'm not afraid. Not yet."
The words burned, teasing, challenging. And I realized—she wasn't afraid of me yet. But that only made me more obsessed.
I stepped closer, dangerously, imagining what it would feel like to grab her, hold her, kiss her, feel her body against mine. My mind spiraled with fantasies and fury. Eight years. Eight years of waiting. And I wouldn't wait another second.
From the next building over, Lucas watched silently, tense and calculating. Protective. Always. Mira was oblivious, leaning on her balcony, scrolling her phone, completely unaware of the storm brewing two rooftops away.
I turned my gaze back to her. "You think you're untouchable," I whispered. "But I'll make you feel… me."
Her lips parted slightly, eyes narrowing, and I felt it—the tension, the pull, the silent acknowledgment that I wasn't bluffing.
I stepped closer, reckless. The air between us was electric. The rooftop felt small. I imagined the moment I could close the distance, touch her hand, lean close, feel her body tense beneath mine.
And she stepped back, maintaining the line, and I realized—slow burn. Always slow burn.