Some days passed.
Not dramatic days.
Not painful ones either.
Just… normal.
And that was the strange part.
Keifer didn't disappear after the kiss.
He didn't overstay either.
He checked in.
Once in the morning.
Sometimes at night.
Nothing heavy.
Keifer: Did you eat?
Keifer: You home yet?
Keifer: Don't stay up too late.
I told myself it was harmless.
I still replied.
Somewhere between the third coffee he brought me without asking and the fifth time I caught myself smiling at my phone, I realized something uncomfortable.
I was fine with him.
Not guarded.
Not angry.
Not pretending.
Just… fine.
And worse—
I liked it.
One morning, I stepped out of my condo and nearly ran into him.
Again.
This time, he was holding a small paper bag and two coffee cups.
"Good morning," he said, like this was normal.
I raised an eyebrow. "You stalking me now?"
He smiled. Soft. Easy.
"No. Just good timing."
He handed me one cup. Almond milk. No sugar.
Exactly how I liked it.
I didn't comment on that.
We walked side by side toward the elevators.
"Busy today?" he asked.
"A bit."
He nodded. "I'll walk you to your car."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
But he did anyway.
That evening, I lay on my couch staring at the ceiling, replaying the day in fragments.
The way he waited for me without checking his phone.
The way he listened instead of filling silence.
The way he never touched me unless I moved first.
I hated how much it mattered.
The message came the next morning.
Keifer:
I'm making breakfast tomorrow.
I frowned at my phone.
Jay:
You… what?
Keifer:
Nothing fancy. Just breakfast.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then—
Keifer:
Come over if you want.
I sat up.
My heart beat faster than it should have.
Jay:
To your place?
Keifer:
Yeah.
A pause.
Keifer:
If that's okay.
No pressure.
I stared at the screen.
Breakfast.
Daylight.
No excuses to hide behind.
This wasn't nostalgia.
This wasn't impulse.
This was intentional.
I typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Jay:
What time?
The reply came almost immediately.
Keifer:
Whenever you wake up.
I exhaled slowly.
Dangerous.
Not because of what he was asking—
But because part of me wanted to say yes without thinking.
And the other part already had.
Morning with Him
The smell hit me before I even saw him.
Eggs, bacon, freshly brewed coffee. And something faint… like his cologne, still lingering in the air.
I froze at the doorway.
Keifer was standing at the counter, apron over a crisp white shirt, flipping pancakes like this was the most normal thing in the world.
He glanced over his shoulder and gave me that calm, unreadable look of his—the one that had me feeling things I wasn't supposed to feel.
"Good morning," he said, casually, like nothing was happening, like we weren't two people who had just crossed a line that had taken eight years to even approach.
I swallowed.
"Uh… good morning," I mumbled.
He smirked slightly.
"You okay? You look… nervous."
I crossed my arms.
"I'm not nervous."
"Sure." He flipped a pancake. "Want some coffee?"
I hesitated. Then nodded.
We sat across from each other at his small kitchen table. Sunlight spilled through the window, making everything feel… domestic, almost too normal.
I watched him pour syrup over the pancakes, focused but not rushing.
"You really didn't have to do all this," I said, trying to sound casual, but my voice came out a little too soft.
He shrugged.
"I like breakfast. And… you."
I choked on the bite of toast I hadn't taken yet.
"Me?"
He looked up, and for a split second, it wasn't calm. His gaze flickered—soft, almost vulnerable.
"Yeah. You."
I tried to hide the heat rising in my cheeks.
Conversation flowed naturally after that, like it was the first time in years we were just… normal.
He asked about work, about my new routines, about small things that felt bigger than they should.
I told him about the minor chaos at the office, and he laughed at all the right spots.
I caught myself smiling more than once, and every time I did, I felt a pinch of guilt.
Halfway through breakfast, he leaned slightly closer, just a little, just enough that our knees brushed.
"You know," he said, not looking at me directly, "I thought you might never come."
I swallowed.
"I… I wasn't sure if I should."
"Good choice," he said softly. "You didn't have to. But I'm glad you did."
I didn't respond. My hands were wrapped around my mug, trying not to overthink how warm it felt.
Later, he brought over a small plate of fruit and placed it in front of me.
"For you," he said.
I looked up. "You didn't have to—"
"I know," he interrupted, smiling, "but I wanted to."
And somehow, the world shrank to just this kitchen, just this sunlight, just him.
After a while, we ended up just… talking.
Not about the kiss. Not about the past. Not about anything that mattered too much.
And that was exactly why it was dangerous.
Because in that ordinary morning, with syrup on the pancakes and the smell of coffee in the air, I realized how much I missed him.
How much I liked him.
And I hated that admitting it even in my own head made my pulse quicken.
When breakfast ended, he walked me to the door.
"You're going to make this a habit," I teased, trying to mask my fluttering chest.
He smirked.
"Maybe. Depends on if you keep showing up."
I froze.
"I—"
"Just kidding," he said, softening, but his thumb brushed mine as he handed me my bag.
The touch lingered. Just a second. Not enough to be a claim. Not enough to be a promise.
But enough.
To make me want more.
And I knew, as I stepped outside, that this morning was only the beginnin
Flirty Chaos
The next morning, my phone buzzed before my alarm even rang.
Keifer: Morning. I made your favorite coffee.
I blinked at the screen, almost spilling my own cup.
Favorite coffee?
I didn't reply immediately. My fingers hovered over the screen like they were afraid to move.
Why did it feel like he was inside my head?
I finally typed:
Jay: You're trying to spoil me, huh?
Keifer: Maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing you smile.
I froze. Heart thudding like a drum.
Okay. Definitely too early for this.
By noon, chaos had officially begun.
He showed up outside my office building—again—holding a small paper bag.
Keifer: Almond croissants. Figured you might need a pick-me-up.
I opened the bag. My pulse skipped. Almond croissants. My favorite.
"You know me too well," I muttered, trying to sound annoyed but failing spectacularly.
He smirked.
"I pay attention," he said. "Not everything, but… important things."
And somehow, that somehow hit me harder than it should have.
The days blended into this small, chaotic routine.
A text in the morning: "Don't forget your umbrella."
A coffee on my desk when I arrived at work.
Lunch delivered unexpectedly, because he "was in the area."
I began to notice it slowly—my day felt… incomplete if I didn't hear from him.
Not because I had to.
Because I wanted to.
One evening, I caught him in the elevator.
I tried to act normal.
Failed.
"You're lucky I didn't spill my drink walking past you," I muttered.
He raised an eyebrow, a playful grin spreading across his face.
"I'd say that's your fault for not paying attention," he teased.
My cheeks heated.
"I wasn't… distracted!"
"Right." He leaned slightly closer. Enough that I could feel the warmth from his shoulder.
I wanted to pull away.
I didn't.
And then came the subtle chaos—text messages that made my stomach twist in a good way.
Keifer: Stop thinking too much about work. Think about me instead.
I rolled my eyes.
Jay: You're ridiculous.
Keifer: Maybe. But you like it.
I glared at my phone. "I don't!"
Three seconds later… I found myself smiling anyway.
The tipping point came one Friday.
I left my office late. The city lights blurred through the rainy window of my cab.
My phone buzzed again:
Keifer: Walk you home?
I hesitated.
Don't. Don't give in.
Then I typed:
Jay: Fine. But only because it's raining.
He was waiting outside. Coat draped over his arm, an umbrella tucked under it.
"Jay," he said, simple. Calm.
I took the umbrella, letting him hold the handle with me. Fingers brushing. My pulse skipped.
Halfway to my building, he leaned in, close enough that I could feel his warmth through the jacket.
"Stop it," I said, trying to sound irritated.
"Stop what?" he asked, playful but low.
"Making me like you," I muttered.
He smirked. "I don't make you anything. You like me all on your own."
I wanted to hit him.
But instead… I walked a little closer.
By the time we reached my door, the rain had stopped. I fumbled with my keys.
He waited. Calm. Patient.
I exhaled, muttering something about coffee in the morning, trying to distract from the tension crackling between us.
He grinned.
"Coffee tomorrow?"
I almost said no. Almost.
But the truth leaked out before I could stop it.
"Yeah… sure," I said.
And as I stepped inside, I realized:
I was letting him back in.
More than I wanted to admit.
More than I probably should.
Heyy guyss so how is the chapter? Let me know in the comment section and guyss comment okay atleast do spam comments okay?