Chapter One — The Boy I Can't Stand
Jayjay's pov:
Mornings are supposed to start peaceful. Birds, coffee, sunlight — that kind of movie crap.
Mine starts with my brother Aries yelling from downstairs.
"Jay! Mom says if you're late one more time, she's revoking your phone privileges!"
I groan, burying my face into the pillow. "Tell Mom she can revoke you instead!"
He laughs — the kind that means he's already dressed, probably smug in his perfect older-brother glory. I drag myself up, hair a disaster, eyes half-open, and stare at the mess that is my room. Clothes everywhere, notebooks on the floor, a coffee cup that's probably been there since last week. My life in one chaotic snapshot.
Mom's waiting by the counter when I finally stumble into the kitchen. She's got that mom look — the one that says she loves me but also wants to throw me out the door.
"Morning, sweetheart," she says, not looking up from her tablet. "You're late. Again."
"Good morning to you too," I mutter, grabbing a piece of toast.
"Jay, you can't keep staying up all night. It's not healthy," she adds.
"I was studying," I lie. I was actually rereading messages from Maya and ranting about him. Mark Keifer Watson. The human migraine. The guy who somehow manages to make every single day worse.
Mom hums, clearly not buying it. Aries smirks from the corner. "Studying? You mean plotting Keifer's downfall again?"
"Shut up, Aries."
He raises his hands, laughing. "Hey, I'm just saying. You two fight like an old married couple."
I almost choke on my toast. "Excuse me? I would rather date a traffic cone."
"Traffic cones don't talk back," he teases.
"Exactly. They're better."
I grab my bag and storm out before Mom can say anything else.
By the time I get to school, the hallways are already buzzing — lockers slamming, people laughing, that faint smell of cafeteria pizza somehow haunting the entire building. Maya spots me before I even reach our locker.
"Jay!" she calls, jogging over. "You look like you wrestled a tornado."
"I did. It's called my morning," I mumble, fixing my hair in the tiny mirror on my locker door.
She giggles, handing me a drink. "Here. I got you your iced caramel latte. Figured you'd need it."
I take it like it's salvation. "You are an angel."
"An angel who's terrified of watching you commit homicide in English class today," she says, lowering her voice.
I blink. "Why?"
She gives me that look. "Because Keifer's back."
My stomach drops. "What do you mean back? He was suspended!"
"Apparently, the principal decided he's redeemed himself." She even adds air quotes.
I swear under my breath. "Unbelievable. He cheats on a debate, gets suspended, and suddenly he's reborn? What's next, sainthood?"
Maya shrugs. "He does have that bad-boy charm thing going on."
"Bad-boy moron," I correct.
Still, as if on cue, I hear it — that annoyingly confident laugh echoing down the hall. I don't have to look. I know that sound. That's Keifer Watson: tall, smug, and somehow always looking like he just walked out of a movie scene he didn't deserve to be in.
Our eyes meet across the hallway. His smirk widens, like he's been waiting for this.
"Mariano," he greets when he gets close enough. "Miss me?"
"Like a mosquito bite," I say flatly.
"Aw, you did miss me."
I roll my eyes. "In your dreams, Watson."
He leans in slightly, voice dropping. "Wouldn't be the first time."
Maya nearly chokes on her drink. I glare at him, but that stupid grin of his doesn't falter. The bell rings, saving me from saying something I might regret.
English class is… painful. Mr. Daniels pairs us up for a mock debate — and of course, fate being the sadist that it is, I end up with Keifer.
"Let's make this interesting," he says, lounging in his seat. "Loser buys the winner lunch."
"I'm not feeding you."
"Oh, come on. Afraid you'll lose?"
"I'm afraid I'll throw this pencil at your face," I mutter.
The debate topic? Love vs. Logic. The irony is suffocating.
He argues with that infuriating calmness — leaning back, tossing in smug smiles between points, pretending like he's not trying to get under my skin. I can feel my pulse in my ears, words firing faster than my brain can catch them.
When the bell finally rings, I'm half a second away from snapping. We both stand, facing each other in the aisle, and for a moment, no one else exists.
He steps closer. "You know, you talk a lot when you're angry."
"And you breathe a lot when you're annoying," I snap.
His smile fades just a little, replaced by something quieter — something that makes my chest tighten for reasons I don't understand.
"Careful, Mariano," he murmurs. "You keep hating me like that, and one day, you might not remember how to stop."
I freeze.
He brushes past me, the faintest hint of cologne trailing behind him, and just like that — he's gone.
Maya appears seconds later, whispering, "What did he say?"
I shake my head, trying to swallow the strange heat in my chest. "Nothing. Just Keifer being Keifer."
But as I watch him leave, I can't shake the feeling that maybe — just maybe — hate isn't as simple as it used to be.