Chapter: My Room, My Rules (Apparently His Too)
The knock on my window made me jump. For a second, my heart stopped. Then I saw the mop of familiar hair, the stupid grin pressed against the glass, and I nearly screamed—not in fear, but in disbelief.
"Mark Keifer Watson," I hissed, shoving the window open. "Are you insane? What if someone saw you climbing up here?"
"Relax," he said, slipping inside like he'd done this a hundred times. "Your lola's watching her teleserye, your brother's downstairs on his phone, and Angelo's probably plotting my murder as usual. I timed it perfectly."
"You timed breaking into my room?"
"Correction," he smirked, dropping onto my bed like it was his, "your boyfriend timed a very romantic visit to his girlfriend's room."
I threw a pillow at him. "You're impossible."
He caught it mid–air and hugged it dramatically. "And yet you're in love with me."
"Don't get cocky."
He tilted his head, those eyes doing that thing again—soft, locked onto me like I was the only person in the world. "Too late."
I rolled my eyes, but I could feel my face heating. He noticed, of course, because Keifer noticed everything.
"You're blushing."
"I am not."
"You are," he teased, leaning closer. "Cute."
"Keifer!"
"Jay." He mimicked my tone, grinning like the menace he was.
I grabbed another pillow to whack him, but this time he caught my wrist gently and pulled me down beside him. My chest tightened—because his smile wasn't teasing anymore.
For a moment, we just lay there. His hand brushed mine, fingers slipping between mine like it was second nature.
"You know what I like most about being here?" he asked quietly.
"What?" My voice came out smaller than I meant it to.
He looked around, then back at me. "It's your space. Your safe place. And you're letting me be in it. With you."
My heart squeezed so painfully sweet I almost couldn't breathe. He said it so simply, like it wasn't the most romantic thing anyone had ever told me.
"...You're so annoying," I muttered, blinking fast.
"And you're so in love with me," he said again, smug—except his thumb was stroking circles on my hand, and his voice cracked at the end.
I laughed, because what else could I do? I laughed until he started laughing too, and soon we were both half–collapsed on my bed, giggling like idiots.
He kissed me then, quick at first, then again, slower, like he couldn't stop himself. My pillow ended up on the floor, his hair was a mess, and my cheeks hurt from smiling.
And maybe—just maybe—my room had always been mine. But tonight, with Keifer in it, it felt like ours.