JAY'S POV..
"So… I should get up," I whispered into his chest.
"No," Keifer mumbled immediately into my hair.
"But—"
"No."
He tightened his arms around me like a human seatbelt.
"Keifer, I need to go home before Angelo files a missing person report."
He groaned. Actually groaned. Like a sleepy wolf being forced out of hibernation.
"Five minutes," he bargained, face still buried in my neck.
"You said that ten minutes ago."
He didn't respond. He just tightened his hold again.
Okay. Desperate times.
I whispered, "If you get up now…"
He went still.
"…you'll get more kisses."
He sat up so fast the blanket flew off.
"Where," he said immediately, "Where are the kisses. I'm ready."
I stared at him. "You're unbelievable."
He shrugged, smug and half-awake. "You're the one who used kisses as a bribe. I'm weak."
I threw a pillow at him.
But fine. I had to actually leave. Except—
I glanced at the floor.
My dress was… on the carpet. Wrinkled. Dead. Destroyed. Ruined by last night in every possible way.
And my underwear? Absolutely missing in action.
Fantastic.
I turned to him.
"Keifer… I can't go home in that dress. Or… anything I wore last night. Do you have something—?"
"Yes," he said instantly, already heading to his dresser. "What do you want? Hoodie? Shirt? Joggers? My whole closet? Take all of them."
"I just need something clean," I muttered.
He tossed me one of his soft black shirts — huge, warm, smelled exactly like him — and a pair of joggers that could fit three of me.
"Thanks," I said, hugging them to my chest.
"Shower's yours," he said.
So I went.
Hot water. Deep breaths. Trying not to replay last night like a movie in my head. Failing miserably.
When I wrapped myself in a towel, I felt… calmer.
Until I opened the bathroom door.
And saw him.
Keifer. Sitting on the edge of the bed. Shirtless. Hair messy. Sweatpants low on his hips. Looking at me like that.
My brain shut off.
He blinked slowly. Then smiled.
"Why are you staring?" he asked softly, leaning back on his hands.
"I— you— this—" My soul malfunctioned.
He tilted his head. "You're cute when you short-circuit."
I clutched the towel tighter. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you want to—"
"I do," he said immediately, voice low, warm, dangerous. "Very much."
My knees actually buckled.
He stood up and walked toward me, slow and teasing, eyes dropping from my face to the towel, then back up again — with zero shame.
"You're wearing my towel," he murmured.
"It's just— a towel—"
"It looks better on you."
I nearly exploded.
He brushed a piece of wet hair behind my ear, his fingers trailing down my jaw lightly.
"Jay?"
"Y-yeah?"
He leaned in just close enough that his breath ghosted over my lips.
"You promised me kisses," he whispered.
The towel nearly fell off....
My grip on the towel was hanging on by a thread.
A very thin thread.
Keifer's mouth hovered over mine, close enough to steal every coherent thought I'd ever had.
I swallowed. "Keifer… I didn't mean right now—"
"Why not?" he whispered, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth like he already owned it.
My heart decided it wanted to run away, hide, and combust all at the same time.
"I— I need to get dressed—"
He hummed. Hummed.
Low. Dangerous. Knowing.
"Fine," he said, pulling back a fraction. "Get dressed."
I exhaled in relief.
"But—" he grabbed my hand gently, lifting it, turning it over, and kissed the inside of my wrist like some prince with zero self-control— "after that, you're not leaving without those kisses."
My brain left the chat.
He stepped back, smug, and I practically dove into the clothes he gave me.
His shirt swallowed me completely.
His joggers hung off my hips.
His scent was everywhere.
I looked like I belonged to him and the realization made something in my chest flutter way too hard.
When I walked back out, Keifer froze.
His eyes scanned me—slowly. Deliberately. Like he was counting every inch.
"…Jay," he breathed.
"What now?" I squeaked.
"That—" he motioned to me, jaw flexing— "should be illegal."
"I'm literally just wearing your clothes."
"Exactly."
He dragged a hand through his hair like he was physically restraining himself.
"You look… too good."
I tugged at the oversized shirt, flustered. "Stop staring."
"I can't," he admitted, unapologetic.
Great. Amazing. Wonderful. I was going to pass out.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand—
Saw 38 missed calls from kuya Angelo
And 12 messages that all said various versions of WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU.
My stomach dropped.
"Oh. Oh no."
Keifer arched a brow. "Problem?"
"Yes, problem! My brothers are going to murder me."
He sighed, stood up, and walked over.
"Okay," he said, slipping his fingers under my chin and lifting it. "You'll tell them you slept over at Stella's."
"That's a lie."
"That's a good lie."
"I hate lying."
"You're very cute when you panic."
"Keifer—"
"Jay—" he mimicked my tone— "we're leaving. Come on."
He grabbed his keys, grabbed my hand, and opened the door.
I stopped him.
"You said something before I left."
He blinked. "What?"
"You said I promised you kisses."
He froze.
Then turned slowly.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I did."
I went up on my toes, leaned in, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
He stared at me.
"That's one," I whispered.
He blinked again.
Then his entire face went red.
He grabbed my hand tighter, pulled me out the door, and muttered under his breath:
"Jay… you're trying to kill me."
JAY'S POV — The Walk of Shame But Make It Panic Mode
I practically flew out of Keifer's car the moment he parked three houses down from Stella's.
"Text me when you get inside," he said, leaning over the steering wheel, eyes soft in that annoyingly perfect way.
"I will."
"And Jay?"
"…yeah?"
He smirked. "I want my clothes back."
I glared. "You'll get them when I do your laundry for you."
His smirk turned into something dangerously close to a grin.
"Deal."
Before I could combust, I shut the door and hurried down the street, checking every window like I was escaping from the mafia.
I knocked on Stella's door three times, praying—PRAYING—she was alone.
It opened.
And she stared.
And blinked.
And then—
"OH.MY.GOD."
She dragged me inside so fast I almost face-planted.
STELLA'S POV — Screaming Internally, Externally, Everywhere
I shut the door and just stared at her.
Jay.
In Keifer's shirt.
Keifer's joggers.
Hair still damp.
Neck slightly red.
Looking like she just stepped out of a man's bed.
"JAY WHAT THE ACTUAL—"
"Shhhh!" She slapped her hand over my mouth.
I licked her palm.
"STELLA!" she yelped, recoiling.
"DON'T SHUSH ME YOU CRIMINAL—WHAT DID YOU DO? WHAT DID HE DO? WHAT DID YOU BOTH—"
"Nothing! Something! I don't know!" she whisper-yelled back, turning red as her shirt—okay, his shirt.
I crossed my arms. "You look like you committed at least three sins."
"I WOKE UP LATE!"
"In his bed."
"I WAS COLD!"
"So he let you borrow his shirt and, what—his pants too? Did the weather attack your underwear as well?"
She hid her face. Entirely. With both hands.
"I hate you," she mumbled into her palms.
I screamed into a pillow. Loudly.
Then paused.
"…Jay?"
"…What?"
"Did you—"
"DON'T FINISH THAT SENTENCE."
"So you DID?!"
Jay grabbed the pillow and smacked me with it so hard I hit the couch.
I sat up, wild-eyed.
"Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my GOD. Angelo is going to rip him apart. Aries is going to shoot someone. Does Keifer even KNOW your brothers? Should I start planning his funeral—?"
Jay grabbed my shoulders.
"Stella, please. I need you to cover for me."
I blinked.
Then smiled the smile of a best friend who lives for chaos.
"Say less. What lie we using?"
"Just… that I slept here."
"Cool. And if your brothers come interrogate me—?"
"You'll make something up that sounds believable."
"I have no self-control. It will NOT be believable."
"Stella—"
"JAY, I PANIC AND CONFESS THINGS THAT NEVER EVEN HAPPENED."
Jay groaned and face-planted onto my couch.
I sat beside her and patted her hair.
"So," I said gently. "When do I get the full story?"
She lifted her head.
"Never."
"Right now."
"Stella—"
"RIGHT NOW. Or I'm sending Aries a picture of you in those clothes."
Jay's soul visibly left her body.
And that's how our morning started.
JAY'S POV — Borrowing Clothes While Dying Inside
I lifted my head from Stella's couch cushion, face still burning.
"Do you at least have something I can wear?" I muttered.
Stella's entire face lit up like Christmas. "Ohhhh, so now you want my clothes? What—Keifer's aren't cozy enough for you?"
"Stella."
"What?" she grinned. "I'm just asking. I mean, clearly they were cozy enough for one whole night—"
"STELLA."
She cackled and practically skipped to her room.
I considered stabbing myself with a throw pillow.
She came back with a pile of clothes in her arms—sweatpants, a crop top, a hoodie, even underwear.
She wiggled her eyebrows. "You'll need these too, I assume?"
I threw another pillow at her.
"Shut up."
"You shut up," she laughed. "Now go change before your brother kicks down my door like an FBI agent."
I changed quickly, grateful to no longer be wearing evidence of my sins. When I came out, Stella was in the kitchen, humming, making breakfast like she hadn't been screaming a minute ago.
I dropped into a chair.
She placed a plate in front of me—pancakes, egg, fruit. My comfort meal. Of course.
Then she sat across from me.
And stared.
And stared.
And stared.
"…What?" I snapped finally.
She burst. "SO. DID YOU GUYS—"
"STELLA."
"What? I'm asking politely!"
"That was polite?"
"Yes! My impolite version would've been way worse, trust me."
I groaned. "I'm not telling you everything."
"But you're telling me something."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
She pointed her fork at me. "Jay. You walked into my house wearing a man's clothes, hair wet, glowing like you survived a romantic apocalypse. SOMETHING happened."
I shoved a pancake into my mouth to avoid answering.
Stella gasped. "OH MY GOD YOU'RE EATING TO AVOID TALKING. THAT MEANS IT WAS BAD—OR GOOD—OR BOTH—"
"Stella…" I muttered, cheeks heating again.
She kicked my leg under the table.
"Don't make me guess. You know I'm gonna guess."
I sighed, ready to give up at least a small piece—
When her phone buzzed.
She checked it.
Then froze.
Then her eyes widened like dinner plates.
"Jay…"
"…what?"
She turned the screen.
A text from Angelo.
"Is Jay with you? I'm coming over."
My soul left my body for the second time today....
My throat closed.
My heart stopped.
My soul packed a suitcase and LEFT.
"NO. NO-NO-NO-NO-NO—" I grabbed Stella's phone like it was a bomb about to explode. "WHY IS HE COMING HERE?!"
Stella was already spiraling. "I DON'T KNOW!! MAYBE HE REALIZED YOU WEREN'T HOME? MAYBE HE CHECKED YOUR ROOM? MAYBE HE—oh my god—MAYBE HE CALLED ARIES—"
I slapped both my hands over my face.
"Stella… I texted Aries last night… at 11 PM."
She blinked. "…Okay? And?"
"I told him I was going to your house."
"That's GOOD—"
"NO IT'S NOT," I hissed. "Because Angelo thinks I came home early. Because I told him BEFORE PROM that I'd sleep here and come home at 7."
Stella froze.
"…Jay."
"What."
"You got to my house at 12. Noon."
I nodded miserably. "Yes."
"So Angelo thinks you went home at 7."
"Yes."
"And when he CHECKED… you weren't there."
"Yes."
"So now he's coming HERE to confirm whether you LIED."
"Yes."
She shoved both hands in her hair. "OH WE'RE SCREWED—WE'RE SCREWED—WE'RE SO SCREWED—"
I jumped up from my chair. "OKAY OKAY OKAY—We just have to make it believable—"
"For WHAT?!" she whisper-yelled. "That you spent the whole night here? Jay, I love you, but you weren't even in the same TIMEZONE as this house last night!"
I groaned into my hands. "He's going to kill me. He's actually going to murder me. I didn't even eat my pancakes yet."
Stella suddenly grabbed my shoulders and shook me.
"WE NEED TO GET OUR STORY STRAIGHT."
"Okay—okay—OKAY!" I squeaked.
She paced like she was preparing for a crime interrogation.
"YOU texted Aries at 11 PM saying you were coming here."
"Right."
"So—so—YOU came here."
"Right."
"BUT—uh—uh—you fell asleep on my couch IMMEDIATELY—YES."
I raised an eyebrow. "Immediately?"
"Yes. Like a corpse. You DIED on the couch at 11:01. You DID NOT MOVE."
"…Stella—"
"YOU WERE TIRED! AFTER PROM! VERY EMOTIONALLY EXHAUSTED!"
"That part is true," I muttered.
She pointed dramatically. "GOOD. KEEP THE TRUTH WHEREVER YOU CAN."
I gulped. "Okay but what about me arriving at 12?"
"We'll say… you showered here. You showered. A LONG shower."
"Stella, that's so unbelievable."
"JAY YOU LOOK FRESHLY SHOWERED WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?!"
I groaned again, head falling onto the table. "He's going to see through this. He always does."
Then—
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
We both froze.
Stella whispered, "He's here."
I whispered back, "Tell him I'm dead."
"WHAT—NO—"
"PLEASE JUST SAY IT—"
"JAY NO—"
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Harder.
"STELLA. OPEN THE DOOR."
Angelo's voice.
My blood left my body.
Stella slowly turned to me, eyes wide, whispering:
"Okay. Quick question before I open—"
"What?!"
"If he kills you…
do I call Aries first or Keifer?"
"STELLA," I whisper-screamed, grabbing her arm. "CALL NOBODY. JUST SAVE MY BODY FOR IDENTIFICATION."
She snorted. "You're being dramatic."
Another knock.
This one rattled the door.
"STELLA. I know you're in there."
Stella flinched. "Okay, never mind, he's terrifying. I lied. You ARE going to die."
I grabbed her hoodie. "Stella, LISTEN TO ME. If I die—don't let Keifer wear my clothes to the funeral—"
She covered my mouth. "SHUT UP—he'll kill you faster if you keep talking."
We both inhaled like two criminals about to commit perjury.
Stella mouthed: Ready?
I mouthed back: No.
She opened the door anyway.
ANGELO'S POV — The Protective Brother Who Is Already Suspicious
Stella opened the door with the world's fakest smile.
"Angelo! Hiiiiii! Wow, look at you, up early!"
"It's 12:07," he said flatly, pushing past her.
Stella nearly lost her footing.
He scanned the living room. The kitchen. The hallway.
Then his eyes landed on me.
In Stella's clothes.
Hair still damp.
Face guilty as sin.
"…Jay."
My entire soul curled into a ball.
"Hi," I squeaked.
Angelo crossed his arms. "You said you'd be home at seven."
"Um… yes. See… funny story—"
Stella blurted, "SHE DIED!"
I whipped around. "STELLA???"
Angelo blinked. "She what?"
Stella panicked. "DIED! Like—like—emotionally! She was EXHAUSTED. After prom! She just—collapsed here at 11! PM! Sharp! Like a potato. Passed OUT."
Angelo stared.
At her.
Then at me.
Then back at her.
"…Is that so?" he asked slowly.
Stella nodded so fast her ponytail became a helicopter blade.
"Yep! Yep! She came here at 11 and BOOM. Asleep. Very sad. Very tragic. Barely alive."
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Angelo turned to me. "Jay. Did you sleep here?"
I swallowed.
"Y…yes?"
His eyebrow raised. "Really."
"YES. REALLY."
"And you showered?"
I froze. Stella froze.
He looked at my wet hair. At the hoodie that definitely wasn't here last night. At my socks that didn't match anything Stella owned.
Then he gave me the stare.
The sibling stare.
The stare that said: I KNOW YOU'RE LYING AND I'M ABOUT TO DRAG THE TRUTH OUT OF YOU LIKE A DEMON.
My voice cracked. "It was… a long shower?"
"Jay."
"Yes?"
"Where were you last night?"
My heart went STOP. ERROR. SHUTDOWN.
Stella jumped between us like a tiny guard dog. "SHE WAS HERE. WITH ME. THE WHOLE TIME. WE ARE LESBIANS."
I choked on my saliva.
Angelo blinked. "…what?"
"NO WE'RE NOT," I shrieked.
"I WAS TRYING TO HELP YOU," she hissed.
"BY SAYING I'M LESBIAN KNOWING KUYA KNOWS I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!!?!" I whisper-yelled back.
Angelo sighed, rubbing his temples. "Oh my god. Both of you just—stop talking."
We shut up instantly.
He looked at me again, eyes softer now but still suspicious.
"Just… go home, Jay. We'll talk later."
I nodded slowly.
He turned to leave—
Then paused.
Looked at the hoodie I was wearing.
And said, very calmly:
"Those aren't Stella's."
My heart vomited.
Stella gasped. "YES THEY ARE! THEY'RE MINE! I SWEAR ON—on—on my—HAIR STRAIGHTENER!"
Angelo's expression didn't change.
"That" he said, pointing at my hoodie, "…belong to a man. And a big one."
Stella opened her mouth—then closed it.
Angelo looked at me again.
Dead serious.
"…Jay. Whose hoodie are you wearing?"
I blinked.
Blinked again.
Then whispered:
"…please don't kill him."
Angelo's eyes widened. "WHO?!"
Stella shrieked.
And that was how I prepared for my third death of the morning....