(Time skips to Eman's restaurant. It's the time when Keifer shows off in front of customers. And alys also joined helping. Jay and alys became very close. And about the discussion of the festival, jay uses her power and makes him accept then and there. The monthly assembly is not conducted yet. And while helping eman, she wears a shirt, cause she can't wear a jacket)
JAY'S POV :
Fuck this love! God, I might lose my temper any second. It would've been better if he'd just sat there, brooding quietly. But this? This is too much. Who told him to be this damn smart?
Keifer's possessed since I teased him about Yuri stealing the spotlight. He yanked off his shirt and wore the apron, muttering, "Too hot in here," and now he's a walking thirst trap. Biceps flexing as he leans over tables, winking at giggling girls, biting his lip while scribbling orders.
"What can I get for you, beautiful? Extra spice?"
One bold customer—a curvy girl in a crop top—runs her fingers along his arm.
"These biceps could serve the whole menu."
They squeal, phones out for pics.
Hands off him, bitches!
My face flames. He's hot, okay? Those eyes, that cocky grin, the way his muscles ripple—I'm blushing like an idiot. But jealousy claws deeper, hot and ugly.
I rip my gaze away. Across the room, Yuri's matching him beat for beat: shirt-less, apron on, flirting shamelessly with a group of college girls.
"Try the special—it's almost as fiery as you."
Laughter ripples. All men are the same. But not all women. And me? I'm in a league of my own.
Alys catches my eye from the counter, smirking like she knows.
She mouths, "Jealous much?"
I scowl and march straight to Keifer. He spots me but plays it cool, ignoring me mid-wink. Huh? Excuse me, mister?
I plaster on my sweetest customer smile.
"Excuse me, folks—he has urgent work."
Before he can protest, I grab his ear and yank. He squeaks like a kicked puppy.
"Aah! Jay, what the fuck?!"
Section E loses it. They erupt in shocked teasing. The whole section's teasing echoes over the din—Yuri's already following us, arms crossed, amused. Customers whisper louder: "Is she his girlfriend?"
Not yet… but soon.
I haul him to the steamy kitchen, dodging waiters and stacks of trays. Eman shoots me a thumbs-up from the stove; Alys waves, still slinging plates in her shirt, sleeves rolled up. Finally, I let go. Keifer's clutching his ear, which is beet-red. Oh shit, I pulled too hard. Guilt flickers, but I shove it down.
"What the hell, Jay?" he groans, voice a mix of pain and playfulness.
"What were you doing out there?" I snap, arms crossed.
"Taking orders," he says, batting those lashes innocently.
"Doing my job."
My foot!
"Or we can call it flirting. Winking, lip-biting, letting them grope your arms like you're a damn exhibit."
He straightens, grin spreading wicked and slow.
"Why? You jealous?"
Yes! Yes, for fuck's sake—I'm burning up inside! The kitchen feels smaller, his bare chest too close, radiating heat. Our eyes lock, that spark igniting. But no. Not giving him the win.
"Why would I be jealous? I just want to teach you some manners… and rules."
He steps closer, voice dropping.
"Sure, boss. Lay 'em out."
"No flirting with customers. No showing off your… everything."
I jab a finger at Yuri, who's lounging against the fridge now.
"Even you. Keep it professional."
Yuri chuckles.
"Harsh, Jay. Jealousy's a good look on you."
Keifer smirks.
"I'm not jealous. Mind your business" I shouted.
Before they can grill me, I spin on my heel and dive back into the fray. Victory tastes sweet, but surviving Keifer? God.
The crowd roars as Keifer reemerges (shirt back on, thank god), but his eyes find mine across the room. How the hell am I supposed to survive this?