It was a Thursday morning, and for once, I wasn't rushing.
I had coffee in one hand, my bag in the other, and my phone buzzing more than usual.
Keifer: Breakfast at mine tomorrow? I promise pancakes this time.
I smiled before I even thought about it.
Jay: You know I can't resist pancakes.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Then:
Keifer: Good. I'll have extra syrup ready.
I laughed quietly. Extra syrup. Always knowing what I wanted before I said a word.
By the next morning, I found myself walking up to his apartment, humming softly to myself.
He opened the door before I even rang, holding a small plate of perfectly golden pancakes.
"Good morning," he said casually, like this was normal.
"Morning," I replied, trying not to notice how good he looked in just a T-shirt and jeans.
Breakfast was… comfortable.
Not awkward. Not tense. Not hesitant.
We talked, we laughed, we teased each other over syrup stains and spilled coffee.
He leaned close to whisper something about my "seriously competitive fork skills" while grabbing a bite of pancake. I pushed him lightly, and he grinned, pretending to be offended.
It was domestic. Ordinary. And terrifying.
Because I realized just how much I missed this. Just… us.
Later, as we cleared the table, he caught my hand.
"Jay," he said softly.
I froze.
"I don't want to overstep," he added quickly. "But… I can't hide how I feel anymore."
I blinked.
"Keifer…"
"I know," he said, voice low. "You don't have to say anything back yet. I just… want you to know I'm here. Always."
I could feel my chest tighten.
Always.
We spent the afternoon on the couch, talking about everything and nothing.
At some point, I realized my legs were brushing his. My shoulder pressed against his arm. And somehow… it felt right.
"Careful," I teased. "I might start thinking you're comfortable being close to me."
"I am," he said, his grin teasing but serious in his eyes.
"You're ridiculous," I muttered.
"And you like it," he replied.
By the time the sun started to set, the tension had shifted.
Not awkward anymore. Not hesitant.
Just… charged.
He leaned closer, slow, careful. I didn't pull away.
And finally, it happened.
A soft, deliberate kiss.
Not urgent. Not desperate.
Just… him. Just… me.
I felt my walls crumble a little. Not completely. Not yet.
But enough.
After we pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine.
"Jay… please. Let me be better. Let me be the one for you," he whispered.
I swallowed. Heart racing.
"I… I want to," I admitted softly.
He smiled. Not the teasing smirk. The full, genuine smile that lit up his eyes and made me weak in the knees.
"Then… can we try?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Yeah… we can try."
And in that moment, it wasn't about labels. It wasn't about rushing.
It was about us.