JAY POV —
In my defense—
No one warned me tequila would taste like confidence.
One shot became two.
Two became someone chanting my name.
That someone was me.
I was standing on the bar.
On. The. Bar.
One heel dangerously close to a tray of abandoned drinks, red dress glowing under neon lights, hair wild, eyes bright and completely unhinged.
"I'M GETTING MARRIEEEEDDDDD," I yelled to absolutely no one in particular, arms spread like I was announcing world peace.
The crowd cheered anyway.
Grace was at the base of the bar, hands up like she was negotiating with a hostage.
"Jay. Baby. Sweetheart. Get down."
Celeste had given up entirely and was filming.
"This is going in the wedding montage."
I spun, nearly slipping, then caught myself dramatically.
"NO—listen—listen," I slurred, pointing at a random man. "I found him first. He's mine. I saw him and I said—yes. Not immediately. Actually after trauma. But still—YES."
The DJ switched songs.
I took that as a sign.
Music blasted and I started dancing—on the bar—completely committed, zero shame, shouting lyrics that were absolutely not the correct ones.
Grace buried her face in her hands.
Celeste laughed so hard she cried.
"That's it," Grace muttered. "She's gone."
That's when my phone buzzed.
Grace grabbed it before I could drop it into a drink.
Caller ID: Keifer ❤️
Grace froze.
She looked at Celeste.
Celeste mouthed: don't you dare.
Grace answered.
"Hello?" she said calmly.
I was still yelling in the background.
"HE'S SO HOT—AND SAD—AND RICH—AND HE LOVES ME—"
There was a pause.
Then Keifer's voice—tight. Controlled. Concerned.
"…Why do I hear my fiancée declaring ownership over the universe?"
Grace winced.
"She's… celebrating."
"What kind of celebrating involves standing on furniture?"
I leaned forward, shouting again.
"I'M WEARING RED BECAUSE I'M IN LOVEEEE—"
Keifer exhaled sharply.
"Where are you Grace?"
Grace hesitated.
I grabbed the phone.
"KEIFERRRRR," I sang. "Guess what. I'm marrying you."
"I know," he said flatly. "Now.Where. Are. You."
Grace snatched the phone back.
"She's out of control,Keifer We're Sorry" she admitted. "but come fast."
Silence.
Then—
"I'm on my way."
The line went dead.
Grace looked up at me.
"…You're dead."
I laughed and jumped down—nearly taking Felix's dignity with me.
---
Ten minutes later—
The club doors slammed open.
Hard.
The music didn't stop—but the energy did.
Because Section E had arrived.
Cin first—eyes wide.
"Oh wow. She's worse than predicted."
Eman scanned the room like a battlefield.
"Who gave her tequila?"
"ME," I yelled proudly.
And then—
Keifer.
Black shirt. Jaw clenched. Eyes locked on me like I was both the problem and the solution.
The moment our gazes met, I grinned.
"There he isssss," I slurred, hopping off the bar and wobbling toward him. "MY FIANCÉ."
He caught me before I fell.
Strong arms. Familiar scent. Safety.
"You are never allowed to drink without supervision again," he muttered, holding me steady.
I cupped his face, squinting.
"You came."
"Of course I did."
I smiled, soft and drunk and full.
"I missed you."
His expression cracked just a little.
Behind us, Section E had already taken control—Cin paying the bartender, Felix apologizing to strangers, Denzel gently guiding Grace away from yelling patrons.
Keifer lifted me effortlessly.
"Hey!" I protested weakly. "I was dancing."
"You were inciting a riot," he replied, adjusting his grip.
I rested my head against his shoulder, suddenly very sleepy.
As he carried me out, I murmured,
"I'm marrying you, you know."
He smiled despite himself.
"So I've heard."
The cool night air hit my face.
The city felt distant. Soft.
Keifer tightened his hold.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
I nodded against his chest.
"Yeah. I'm just… really happy."
His voice dropped, gentle.
"Me too."
Behind us, Section E followed—laughing, teasing, already planning how this story would be told for the rest of our lives.
And as Keifer carried me into the night—
I knew one thing for sure.
If this was how messy love looked—
I never wanted to be sober again. 💗✨
KEIFER POV —
Getting shoved out of my own house was not how I pictured my night going.
Cin had physically pushed me toward the door. "Bachelor rule," he declared. "No fiancée allowed. You're coming with us."
"I don't want to go to a bar," I argued, already grabbing my jacket. "She's out with the girls. I was planning on sleeping."
Felix grinned. "You? Sleeping? Since when?"
Keigan clapped my shoulder. "Relax. One drink. Then we'll let you go back to missing her dramatically."
I sighed.
This was my fault.
I'd said yes to letting them take me out.
We ended up at a bar loud enough to rattle my skull. Section E immediately spread out like they owned the place—Cin ordering shots, Eman claiming a booth, Rory already flirting with a bartender.
I sat back.
Watched.
Pretended to enjoy it.
Truth was, my phone hadn't left my hand.
Every few minutes I checked it.
No messages.
No updates.
I told myself she was fine. She was with Grace and Celeste. She was safe.
Still—something in my chest felt… off.
"Drink," Felix said, sliding a glass toward me.
I took it. Sipped. Barely tasted it.
"You look like you're waiting for a bomb to go off," Cin observed.
"I am," I muttered.
They laughed.
Five minutes later, my patience ran cold and I dialed her.
As she answered I heard Grace.
"Keifer," she said—too calm. Too forced.
My spine went rigid.
"What happened?"
In the background, I heard it.
Her voice.
Loud. Bright. Slurred.
"I'M GETTING MARRIEEEEDDDDD—"
I closed my eyes.
"Why," I asked very carefully, "do I hear my fiancée announcing her life choices to strangers?"
Grace winced audibly. "She's… celebrating."
"What kind of celebrating involves standing on furniture?"
Right on cue, Jay's voice cut through the line again.
"HE'S SO HOT—AND SAD—AND RICH—AND HE LOVES ME—"
The bar around me went silent.
Every single man at the table stared at me.
Cin mouthed, oh shit.
"Grace," I said tightly. "Where are you."
She hesitated.
That was all it took.
"Where," I repeated, slower, sharper.
"She's out of control," Grace admitted. "We're sorry. But… please come fast."
The line went dead.
I stood up.
Didn't explain.
Didn't argue.
Just grabbed my jacket.
Cin was already moving. "Which club?"
Grace texted the location.
We were out the door in under ten seconds.
The club doors slammed open.
The music was deafening.
Lights flashing.
Bodies everywhere.
And then—
I saw her.
On the bar.
In a red dress that should have been illegal.
Hair loose. Eyes wild. Arms raised like she was declaring war on sobriety.
"I'M GETTING MARRIEEEEDDDDD," she screamed again.
My heart stopped.
Then restarted violently.
Jealousy flared first.
Protectiveness right after.
And somewhere underneath it all—
a laugh threatened to break out.
Because of course she was on the bar.
Cin stared. "She's… radiant."
"She's drunk," I snapped, already moving.
She spotted me.
Her entire face lit up.
"There he isssss," she slurred, hopping down—and immediately wobbling.
I caught her before she hit the floor.
She fit into me like she always had. Like gravity had been waiting.
"My fiancé," she announced proudly, poking my chest. "You came."
"Of course I did," I said, holding her steady. "What did you think would happen?"
She cupped my face, squinting like she was studying art. "You're very handsome when you're mad."
I exhaled slowly.
"Jay," I murmured, forehead dropping to hers, "you are never allowed to drink tequila again."
She smiled—soft, drunk, devastating. "I missed you."
That did it.
Every sharp edge in me melted.
I lifted her without effort.
"Hey!" she protested weakly. "I was dancing."
"You were committing crimes," I replied.
Her arms looped around my neck automatically, head settling against my shoulder like she belonged there—which she did.
Behind us, Section E took over seamlessly—Cin paying off the bartender, Felix apologizing to security, Eman herding Grace and Celeste toward the exit.
As I carried her outside, the cool night air hit her face.
She sighed.
Happy.
Safe.
"I'm marrying you," she murmured again, voice thick with sleep.
I smiled despite myself. "So I've heard. Multiple times. Loudly."
She laughed, then yawned.
I tightened my hold.
"You okay?" I asked quietly.
She nodded against my chest. "Yeah. I'm just… really happy."
Something in my chest cracked open.
"Me too," I said softly.
We reached the car.
I settled her in carefully, brushing hair from her face. She caught my hand.
"Don't leave," she whispered.
I leaned down, pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."
As we pulled away, Section E piled into cars behind us—already laughing, already planning how they'd tell this story forever.
I watched her sleep.
And thought—
If this was what loving her looked like—
chaos, noise, tequila declarations and all—
then I'd gladly spend the rest of my life cleaning up after her.
Because at the end of the night—
she always chose me.
And I'd cross cities, bars, and entire universes
to carry her home....