Keifer POV
I walk away from her condo, a faint smile tugging at my lips.
It's subtle. Quiet. But it's there.
I can feel it.
She's letting me in. Not fully, not yet—but the walls I spent years trying to reach are cracking. Slowly. Carefully.
Her texts these past few days. Small gestures. Little hints she's thinking of me before I even need to ask.
I pull my phone out. Her latest message:
Jay:
You're lucky I like pastries.
Lucky, huh? That's… cute.
I type back immediately.
Keifer:
I know. And I plan to use that to my advantage.
Seconds later, her reply:
Jay:
You're impossible.
I grin.
Impossible. That's me. But I also know she's smiling behind the words. I can feel it.
I lean against the wall, thinking about the way she looked earlier.
Cheeks flushed, lips soft from that half-smile she couldn't hide, eyes darting away when I looked too long.
She's not over me.
She's not pretending this time.
Not really.
I can sense it—the way her laugh lingers, how she keeps texting first even though she acts annoyed, how she can't quite hide the warmth creeping into her tone.
I run a hand through my hair, heart picking up pace.
She wants me to stay.
She's letting me stay.
And maybe… just maybe… she's already too far gone to push me out.
I chuckle softly, typing a new message:
Keifer:
Admit it. You like me being impossible.
I wait.
Jay:
I hate you.
Ah… predictable. But I know better.
Keifer:
Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.
My grin widens. She can pretend all she wants, but I know she's soft for me. Every little text, every brush of hands with the pastries, every fleeting glance earlier—it all says the same thing.
She can't hide it.
She can't erase what we have.
And I… I don't want her to.
I glance at my phone again, imagining her reading my message, cheeks probably burning, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
I can wait. Tease. Flirt. Make her squirm a little—because it's working.
I'm back in. She's letting me in. And this time, I won't let her go.