JAY JAY POV
We finally arrived at the Watson mansion, which, by the way, was so big I'm pretty sure you could fit three of my apartments inside just the garage. Keiran and Keigan immediately bolted toward their rooms, probably tired from all the wedding drama (or just eager to change out of their itchy barongs).
I stood in the massive, polished hallway, clutching my dress like it was my only protection. I looked at Keifer, who was busy loosening his tie like he was in a slow-motion cologne commercial.
"Where is mine?" I asked, looking around for a guest room or maybe a nice, comfortable walk-in closet.
"It's where mine is," Keifer said, his voice as casual as if he were telling me the weather.
I let out a dry, nervous laugh. "Haha! Good joke, Watson. Very funny. Now really, where's my room? Is it down the hall? In the north wing? In a different zip code?"
He didn't laugh. He didn't even crack a smile. He just stood there, looking at me with those intense eyes that always made my brain feel like scrambled eggs.
"Oh no. No, no, no," I said, shaking my head so hard my hairpins were starting to give up. "I am not sharing a room with a stranger. I have rules! I have boundaries! I have a very specific way of hogging the blankets!"
"Jay, I'm not a stranger," he said, his voice dropping an octave as he started walking toward me.
I backed up until my heels hit the base of a very expensive-looking vase. Jusko. Why did the air in here suddenly feel like it was a hundred degrees?
"You're my wife," he reminded me, stepping right into my personal space until I could smell that addictive peppermint scent and expensive soap.
My heart started doing a frantic TikTok dance against my ribs. Stop it, heart! Traitor!
"Technically!" I squeaked, holding up a finger to keep his chest at bay. "Technically, we've known each other for what? Three days? In teacher-time, that's barely enough time to memorize a seating chart, let alone share a pillow!"
Keifer didn't stop. He leaned in, placing one hand on the wall behind me, effectively pinning me between the cold marble and his very warm, very intimidating presence.
"We're married, Jay-jay. The whole city just watched us 'kiss' at the altar," he murmured, his signature smirk dancing on his lips. It was that 'I've-already-won' look that made my knees feel like overcooked noodles. "What are you so afraid of, Teach?"
"I'm not afraid!" I barked, though my voice was a little higher than I intended. "I'm just... protecting my personal space! It's for health reasons! Social distancing is still a thing in my heart!"
He let out a low, vibrating chuckle that I felt in the pit of my stomach. Gago. Truly. How can someone be this handsome and this annoying at the same time?
"One room, Jay-jay. That's the deal," he said, his face inches from mine. "Besides... who else is going to save you if you have a midnight craving for chocolate and the kitchen is too far away?"
I wanted to glare at him, but my eyes kept trailing to his lips. Bad Jay-jay! Look at the floor! Look at the ceiling!
"I hate you," I whispered, even though my heart was basically screaming at me to hug him.
"I know," he whispered back, his breath tickling my ear. "Now come on"
I rolled my eyes—my signature move, honestly—and followed him into the room.
"There should be clothes in there. I asked the maids to restock for you. Change out of the dress," Keifer said, pointing casually toward a walk-in closet that was probably the size of my entire old living room.
I just nodded, too tired to argue, and scurried toward the closet. I needed to get out of this dress, like, now. Don't get me wrong, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever worn, and I felt like a literal goddess in it, but juice colored, it was getting hot. And not the wow, I look hot kind of hot, but the I am currently a roasted pig at a fiesta kind of hot.
I reached behind my back, searching for the zipper. My fingers fumbled against the delicate lace.
Left... no, right... up a bit...
I caught the metal tab and started to pull. It moved an inch. Then two. And then—klungk.
It stopped.
"Oh no. Please don't," I whispered, my heart doing a nervous little somersault. I tried to pull it down again. It didn't budge. I tried to pull it up to reset it. It was stuck firme
"No, no, no! Not now! Not today!" I hissed, reaching back with both hands. I was twisting my arms in ways that felt like I was auditioning for the circus. My face was turning red, and sweat was starting to prickle at my hairline.
Stupid zipper! You were fine at the church! Why are you acting up now that I'm alone with a billionaire in a bedroom?!
I gave it one more desperate tug.
Rrip? No, thank god, it didn't rip, but it definitely wasn't moving. I was officially trapped. I was going to have to live in this wedding dress forever.
"Jay-jay? Everything okay in there?" Keifer's voice boomed from the bedroom, sounding way too close for comfort.
I froze, my arms still twisted behind my back like a pretzel. "Internal scream!" I shrieked inside my head.
"Yes! Everything is fine! Great! Wonderful! Just... admiring the craftsmanship of the closet!" I yelled back, my voice hitting a pitch only dogs could hear.
"You've been in there for ten minutes," he said. I could hear his footsteps. The floorboards were mocking me. Thud. Thud. Thud.
"The zipper is just... being shy!" I blurted out.
The closet door creaked open. I turned around, still clutching the back of my dress, looking like a deer caught in high-definition headlights.
Keifer stood there, his jacket off, his sleeves rolled up, looking like a dream while I looked like a frantic marshmallow. He looked at my awkward posture, then at my face, and then he let out that low, vibrating chuckle that always made my brain short-circuit.
"Stubborn," he murmured. "Turn around."
"I can do it! I just need... a lubricant! Or a pair of pliers! Or a miracle!"
"Jay-jay," he said, his voice dropping into that listen-to-me tone. "Turn. Around."
Reluctantly, I turned my back to him, my heart hammering so hard I was worried he'd see the fabric of the dress moving. I felt the air shift as he stepped closer. I could feel the heat radiating off him. My skin started to tingle, and I forgot how to breathe.
"Hold your hair," he commanded softly.
I reached up and pulled my hair to the side, my hands trembling. Then, I felt it. His cold fingers brushed against the skin of my back.
Help.
The touch was light, but it felt like a bolt of electricity shot straight down my spine. I squeezed my eyes shut, my breath hitching in my throat. I could smell him—that peppermint and masculinity—surrounding me.
"Relax," he whispered, his breath tickling my neck. "You're shaking."
"I'm not shaking!" I squeaked.
He didn't say anything, but I could hear the smirk in his voice. I felt him fiddle with the zipper, his knuckles grazing my skin every now and then. Every touch felt like fire. It was the most "kilig" and terrifying moment of my entire life.
Click.
The zipper slid down smoothly. The sudden cool air hit my back, and I felt the dress loosen.
"There," he murmured, but he didn't move away. He stayed right there, his presence heavy and suffocating in the best way possible. "Next time... just ask for help"
I stood there, frozen, the top of my dress slipping slightly.
If I turn around now, I might actually die of embarrassment. Or worse... I might actually kiss him.
"Thanks," I whispered, my voice barely audible. I still couldn't bring myself to turn around. My back felt like it was on fire from where his fingers had just been.
Only when I heard the soft thud of the closet door closing did I finally let out the breath I'd been holding.
I think I just used up my entire year's supply of oxygen in those last three minutes. My heart was still thumping against my ribs
"Calm down, Jay-jay. It's just a zipper. It's just a husband. It's just... a very handsome billionaire who definitely saw your panda socks earlier," I muttered to myself, trying to regain my sanity.
I quickly peeled off the wedding dress—feeling about ten pounds lighter the moment the lace hit the floor—and started digging through the piles of new clothes. The maids really didn't hold back. Everything looked expensive, soft, and way more sophisticated than my usual 'I-give-up' t-shirts.
I found a pair of silk pajamas—a deep navy blue that felt like a cloud against my skin. It wasn't as thick as my panda PJs, but hey, it was comfortable and I didn't look like a giant marshmallow for once.
I took a deep breath, patted my cheeks to get the redness down (it wasn't working), and slowly peeked out of the closet.
Keifer was already in bed. Our bed. The bed.
He was propped up against the pillows, a tablet in his hand, looking like he was reviewing some world-ending business deal. He'd changed into dark sweatpants and a plain white shirt that looked way too good on him. The lamp on the nightstand cast a warm glow over the room, making everything feel way too intimate.
I stood there by the closet door, clutching clothes like a shield. I felt like a stray cat that had accidentally wandered into a palace.
"Are you planning to sleep standing up? Or are you waiting for an official invitation?" Keifer asked without looking up, though I saw that annoying, beautiful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"I'm just... checking the perimeter!" I blurted out, finally walking toward the bed. "You know, for spiders. Or ninjas. Or... unexpected guests."
I climbed into the opposite side of the bed, making sure there was at least a three-foot 'neutral zone' between us. I pulled the duvet up to my chin, staring at the ceiling as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.
The silence was thick. I could hear the rain tapping on the window outside and the rhythmic sound of Keifer's breathing. It was peaceful, but my brain was a chaotic mess.
the mattress dipped and Keifer was suddenly—literally—hovering over me.
His shadow swallowed me whole. The scent of that addictive peppermint was everywhere, and all I could see were his eyes, dark and intense, reflecting the dim light of the lamp.
"W-what are you doing?" I stammered, my hands instinctively flying up to press against his chest. Jusko, why did he feel like a heated marble slab? Does this man even have bones, or is he just made of muscle and arrogance?
"Nothing. Just getting ready to make a baby," he said, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that made my entire body feel like it had been plugged into an electric socket.
I watched in slow-motion horror as his hand moved toward the drawstring of his sweatpants.
"N-no!" I shrieked, my voice hitting a pitch that probably shattered every expensive glass in the kitchen. I squeezed my eyes shut so hard I saw stars. "Wait! Pause! Time out! Red card! Foul!"
I felt his weight shift, but I refused to peek. My face was so hot I was pretty sure I could fry those sunny-side-up eggs right on my own cheeks.
The room went silent. The only thing I could hear was the rain outside and the frantic thump-thump-thump of my heart trying to break out of my panda-less chest.
Then, I heard it.
A snicker. A low, genuine, shoulder-shaking laugh.
I opened one eye, then the other. Keifer hasn't moved, but he was shaking with laughter, his head bowed near my shoulder. He looked back up at me, his eyes dancing with a type of mischief I usually only see in Keiran right before he pulls a prank.
"You're so easy to tease, Teach," he murmured, his smirk returning in full, lethal force. He hadn't even touched his sweatpants; his hand was actually resting on the duvet next to my hip.
I stared at him, my mouth agape. "You... you gago! You were joking?!"
"The look on your face was worth a billion pesos," he teased, finally moving off me and settling back onto his side of the bed, though he stayed propped up on one elbow to watch me simmer in my own embarrassment.
I whacked him again for good measure before he finally caught the pillow, his large hand easily stopping my deadly assault.
He didn't look annoyed.
In fact, he looked... calm. He set the pillow aside properly, as if he were smoothing out a business contract instead of my frantic nerves.
"I won't touch you without your consent," Keifer said, his voice dropping into a serious, heavy tone that made my heart do a completely different kind of somersault.
The teasing was gone. The gago smirk had vanished.
He was looking at me with an intensity that felt more intimate than if he had actually taken off his sweatpants. I felt my grip on the duvet loosen as I stared back at him.
Why did those words make me feel more flustered than the joke?
"I... I know that," I whispered
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++