Chapter 4
Jayjay's POV
Two weeks.
Two weeks of sitting next to him.
I don't know when it became a routine — when Keifer Watson started treating the seat beside me like it had his name on it. No announcement. No request. Just... took it.
At first, I thought it was a fluke. Then a coincidence.
Now it's a daily test of my patience.
We bicker. Every class. Every day.
About equations. Case studies. Coffee orders. Life choices.
We argue like it's a sport — and somehow, it always ends in a draw that leaves me more drained than satisfied.
Today, it was about the project proposal. Again.
"I'm just saying," Keifer said, flipping casually through my outline, "this is solid. But it could be more."
I snatched the papers from him. "More? It's already comprehensive. You just want to add unnecessary fluff to sound smart."
He smiled — that same smug, lazy, Keifer smile. "Says the girl who wrote an entire footnote defending a metaphor about market collapse."
"It was a brilliant metaphor," I snapped.
"That no one asked for," he teased.
I turned away before I could physically combust.
And yet, I still felt it — his eyes, lingering a little too long. Watching me. Measuring something.
It wasn't just me noticing anymore.
After class, I overheard Bianca and Mica whispering to Freya as they waited outside the lecture hall.
"He's so obvious," she giggled.
Freya smirked. "Honestly, it's getting embarrassing. He stares at her like he's memorizing her bone structure."
I gave them both a flat glare. "I'm right here, you know."
"Exactly," Bianca said, not even pretending to feel bad. "You should hear it."
That's when Miss Reyes, our Business Strategy professor — a woman who somehow made corporate structures sound like Shakespeare — stood at the front of the room with her usual calm, analytical voice.
But today... she gave me a look.
And then she recited, out of nowhere:
"The line between hate and love is just one argument away."
There was a pause. An audible, collective smirk from half the class. Keifer's brows raised. I froze.
This was not a poetry class. This was corporate finance.
And Miss Reyes? She just smiled knowingly and moved on, like she hadn't just dropped a grenade and walked away.
By the weekend, my brain felt like it had been microwaved. The pressure to stay ahead, to outdo Keifer, to be enough was eating me alive.
That's when I got the text.
Section E Group Chat
🧠 Felix: "You're spiraling again, aren't you?"
🌊 Kit: "She's 100% spiraling. She always goes quiet when she's spiraling."
🎸 Blaster: "Time for a Section E intervention."
🍵 Ci-n: "Jay. Come out with us. You need air."
🐍 Mayo: "And coffee. And maybe a mental reset."
🧸 Edrix: "We're kidnapping you Saturday. Pack snacks."
I stared at the screen, heart tight. Section E — my old high school class. My safe zone. The only group of people I ever allowed close. Mostly boys, all chaos. But good chaos. Chaos that gave me space to breathe.
Still, I typed out:
Jay: "I'm busy."
Ci-n: "We already know you're not."
Rory: "You're studying right now. That doesn't count."
Densel: "We're coming either way."
Sighing, I sent Bianca a pleading look. "Save me. Please."
She grinned. "You know I'm in. Freya too. You're not leaving me out of a chance to see Yuri again."
"Not everything's about your love life," I muttered.
"Oh no?" she said. "Because I'm starting to think yours is about to start and you just don't know it yet."
And of course Keifer was there.
Because the universe clearly enjoys seeing me suffer.
He was already sitting under the shade of a tree when we arrived at the lakeside park, chatting with Felix and tossing a stress ball back and forth.
The moment he saw me, he smirked. "Oh look. Our queen of spreadsheets graced us with her presence."
"Don't talk to me," I said. "I came for the snacks and the serotonin."
"You came for me," he said under his breath.
I didn't answer. I just walked past him. But my friends? Oh, they noticed.
By the end of the day, the tension had been thick enough to spoon into jars and sell.
Freya leaned toward Bianca during lunch and whispered, "I swear, if they argue one more time about how to set up a campfire, I'm gonna make a 'Jayfer' edit."
That night, the group chat name changed.
[Tracking Jayfer ]
I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly gave myself a headache.
Later, back in my room, I opened my laptop again — not to study this time, but to write.
My story, "The Ones Who Never Slept", was slowly becoming more personal than I wanted to admit. Each chapter bled a little more truth. A little more of me.
"They told her to rest, but she only rested when the pressure cracked her bones.
They told her to breathe, but she only inhaled expectations and exhaled panic.
Dreams were nice.
But survival was safer."
I paused. Hands hovering over the keyboard.
Today wasn't perfect.
I still spiraled.
But I smiled... once or twice. And I didn't collapse.
Maybe that was something.