JAY JAY POV
"Bye Mia, Sarah, Ben, Dave!" I called out, giving each of them a tight hug.
"It's not fair," Jare grumbled, trudging back toward me after waving them off. "We have to stay in the Philippines and spend Christmas at your boyfriend's house while they all get to fly to London."
Smack.
I hit him upside the head without even looking at him. "Keifer is not my boyfriend!" I snapped, though my face immediately started to heat up at the mention of his name.
Common sense said we should be on that flight too, but fate—and my mother—had other plans. The rest of the group was heading to London for the holidays, but Jare and I were officially grounded in the Philippines. Why? Because Mama insists we stay put. Apparently, she and Papa are planning to fly here instead, bringing Percy along once his medical treatment is officially finished.
"It's still a scam," Jare muttered, rubbing the spot where I hit him. "I wanted real snow, not 'tropical humidity' Christmas."
"Deal with it, Kuya," I said, though I was secretly feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. Spending Christmas in the Philippines was one thing, but spending it at Keifer's house? Under Tita Serina's roof?
"Our bags are already in the car, right? Since we're going straight to Tita Serina's house," Jare said, double-checking the trunk before getting behind the wheel.
I nodded, adjusting my seatbelt. "Yeah, everything's loaded. We're officially homeless for the holidays."
"I still can't believe Mama and Papa aren't coming until later," Jare grumbled, looking at the house one last time.
"Mom said they might only be able to fly in after New Year—sometime in February, actually," I reminded him. "They want to make sure Percy's treatment is 100% finished before they do any long-haul flights. So it's just the two of us"
Jare let out a dramatic, soul-crushing sigh. "Great. A Filipino Christmas with the King of Assholes. I hope they have high-speed WiFi, because I'm going to need to vent to Percy every single day just to stay sane."
"Shut up, Jare," I muttered, staring out the window as we pulled out of the driveway.
February felt like a lifetime away. A lot could happen in two months—and considering how much had happened in just two hours in that tent, I had a feeling this was going to be the most chaotic Christmas of my life.
We finally reached Tita Serina's house. Walking inside felt like entering a Christmas catalog—huge trees, gold trimmings, and that scent of expensive pine everywhere.
"Tita!" I called out, my voice echoing through the grand foyer.
Instead of Tita, Keigan—the middle brother—came walking down the stairs. Unlike Keifer, Keigan was actually the mature, composed one of the trio. He gave us a polite nod.
"Mom isn't here, Jay-Jay. She went out shopping with Papa," Keigan explained calmly. "But I can show Jare where the guest room is. We've already moved his bags up."
Jare started following him, looking relieved to have a place to crash. I looked around, realizing I was standing alone in the hallway. "What about me?" I asked Keigan's retreating back. "Where's my room?"
Suddenly, Keiran—the youngest of all and by far the most mischievous—popped out from behind a pillar in the hallway. He had that same predatory smirk as Keifer and a glint in his eyes that spelled trouble.
"Ask Kuya," Keiran teased, wagging his eyebrows at me before disappearing into the kitchen.
"Huh?" I stood there, genuinely confused. "Ask who? Since when does Keifer handle room assignments?"
I looked at Jare, expecting him to defend my honor, but my own twin just stood there with a massive, teasing smirk. He was clearly already in on whatever plan these three brothers had cooked up.
"Just go upstairs, Jay," Jare said, shooing me toward the massive grand staircase. "I'm sure the Keifer has everything prepared for his favorite guest."
I narrowed my eyes at all of them. My heart was starting to do that frantic tap-dance again. If Keifer had convinced his parents to put my room anywhere near his, I was in serious danger of losing my sanity—and my voice—this holiday.
I marched up the stairs, my boots clicking against the polished wood. I reached the landing and saw a door at the far end of the hall that was slightly ajar. I gripped my bag strap and pushed it open.
"Keifer?" I called out, trying to sound a lot tougher than I felt. "If you've put me in a literal closet, I'm kicking you in the shin again. For real this time!"
"Wow, my shin? I'd love to see that happen," a deep, familiar voice rumbled from behind me.
I spun around to see Keifer leaning against the doorframe, looking entirely too smug for someone who had just been threatened with physical violence. He stepped into the hallway, moving toward me with that slow, effortless glide he has. Without even asking, he reached down and took the heavy suitcase right out of my hand.
"Wow, so gentlemanly," I said, my voice dripping with enough sarcasm to fill a pint glass.
Keifer didn't even blink. He hoisted my suitcase like it weighed nothing, a small, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "It's a Christmas miracle, Jay-Jay. Don't ruin it by being difficult."
"I'm not being difficult, I'm being suspicious. Keiran told me to ask you where my room is, and Jare is acting like he's just won the lottery. What's the plan, Keifer? Are you putting me in the attic with the spiders?"
"The attic? Please. Spiders are too good for you, Jay Jay" e teased, nudging me with his shoulder as he started walking further down the hall.
I followed him, my eyes narrowing at the back of his head. We passed three doors—all of which I assumed were guest rooms—until he stopped at the very last door on the left. It was a massive, dark wood door that looked a lot more substantial than the others.
"This is it," he said, turning the handle and pushing it open.
I stepped inside and my jaw nearly hit the floor. The room was huge, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the garden, a king-sized bed that looked like a cloud, and a private balcony. My bags were already sitting neatly on a bench at the foot of the bed.
"Wait... this is the master guest suite," I whispered, turning back to him. "Tita Serina actually let me have this?"
Keifer set my suitcase down and stepped closer, his presence suddenly making the massive room feel very small. "Actually, my mom wanted to put you in the room next to Keigan. I was the one who suggested this one."
I felt the heat rush to my face instantly. I stood my ground, though my heart was doing a frantic drum solo against my ribs.
"Whose room is this close to?" I asked, raising an eyebrow
Keifer didn't back away. Instead, that predatory, mischievous smirk widened. He leaned in, his chest nearly brushing mine, and dipped his head until his lips were hovering right against my ear.
"Take a wild guess," he whispered, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that sent a physical shiver down my spine.
Before I could snap back with a sarcastic comment, I felt the soft, lingering pressure of his lips against my earlobe—right on the spot he'd marked at the amusement park. It wasn't a quick peck; it was deliberate, a silent reminder of our negotiation in the tent.
He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, his gaze dark and triumphant. I felt like a deer caught in high-end, designer headlights.
"I'll save you the time and give you the answer," Keifer said, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register. He leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of my mouth, making my breath hitch.
"You're staying right next to my room," he murmured, his eyes dropping to my lips. He didn't even hesitate—he aimed straight for me, closing the distance like he was reclaiming lost territory.
I felt my heart nearly bolt out of my chest, but I managed to bring my hands up and shove at his shoulders.
"Idiot! You can't just kiss me!" I snapped. I tried to sound authoritative and tough but I knew I failed miserably. Between the heat radiating from my skin and the fact that I probably looked like a giant, over-ripened tomato, I wasn't exactly intimidating.
Keifer didn't move back far. He just stood there, letting my hands rest against his chest, watching the way I was breathing too fast. A slow, infuriatingly handsome smirk played on his lips.
"Wow. Anything else, wifey?" he teased, his voice low and vibrating.
"You jerk!" I shot back, the word flying out before I could stop it.
The second it left my mouth, I saw it. That predatory glint in his eyes sharpened. He didn't look offended; he looked hungry.
"That's two, Jay-Jay," he whispered, stepping back into my space until I was backed up against the edge of the king-sized bed. "We've been in this house for ten minutes and you've already racked up two penalties. Are you trying to set a record, or do you just really miss my mouth?"
"I don't—I am not—it's a reflex!" I stammered, my hands still pinned to his chest. "You're living in a fantasy world if you think I'm doing this on purpose."
"Fantasy, huh?" Keifer reached up, his thumb grazing my lower lip, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my toes. "In my fantasy, you don't fight me this much. But in reality... the fighting is what makes the payout so much better."
He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine. "One more, Jay. Give me one more reason to lock that connecting door from the inside tonight."
I stared at him, my throat bone-dry. Every sarcastic comeback I had was currently buried under the sheer weight of his presence. He was a menace, a bossy, arrogant, possessive jerk—and I was officially sharing a wall with him.
"Get out," I finally whispered, though I didn't push him away.
"Is that a request or a challenge?" he murmured against my lips.
"It's a survival tactic," I breathed.
Keifer chuckled, a dark, low sound, and finally stood up straight. He winked at me—actually winked—and started toward the door. "Wear the blue dress, Jay-Jay. The one that makes you look like you're still in London. My dad likes the 'sophisticated' look. I, on the other hand, prefer you just the way you are: flustered and loud."
He shut the door behind him, leaving me standing in the middle of the room with my heart racing like a Formula 1 car.
"Asshole," I mouthed silently, not daring to let the sound escape. I wasn't that brave yet. Not while he was literally three feet away on the other side of the wallpaper.
I finally managed to push Keifer out and click the door shut. I leaned against it for a second, waiting for my pulse to drop back to a somewhat human level. That guy was going to be the literal death of me.
"Focus, Jay," I muttered to myself, shaking my head. "Unpack. Survive dinner. Don't let him bait you into any more penalties."
I walked over to my suitcase and flipped it open, tossing my clothes onto the massive king-sized bed. "Okay, dresses here, PJs there..."
My hands moved faster and faster as I dug deeper into the silk and denim, searching for something specific. I reached the bottom of the bag, then double-checked the side pockets. Empty.
"Where is it?" I whispered, my voice going a little frantic.
I started tossing everything back out, my heart sinking. "Our Snorlax... where is he?"
I've had that small, worn-out Snorlax plushie since forever. I literally cannot sleep without it. My parents always joked that it was basically their third child because I never let it go, even as a baby. It was my one non-negotiable comfort from London.
"No, no, no," I groaned, rummaging through my backpack. "I know I packed it. I wouldn't have left it at the house. Jare probably moved it or... oh my god."
A horrifying thought struck me. Keifer had carried my suitcase up. If the zipper had been slightly open, or if Jare had played a prank and moved it to a different bag...
I stared at the connecting door between our rooms.
"Please be in the other bag," I prayed, diving toward my smaller carry-on. "Please don't let that jerk have my Snorlax."
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