Teach Me, Jake

Chapter Three

The morning started like any other—rushing across campus, half-asleep, and slightly overdressed for a 9 a.m. class. Alice blamed the boutique fallout for that. She hadn't worn the red dress, obviously. But her jeans were tighter, her top a little more confident. Just enough for her to feel like she wasn't disappearing anymore.

Emma noticed.

"Okay, who are you and what did you do with Hoodie Alice?" she teased as they slid into the back row of their Media Theory lecture.

"I don't know," Alice muttered. "Someone who owns pants that fit, apparently."

Emma leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Speaking of things that fit..." She nodded subtly toward the front of the room.

Alice followed her gaze and nearly choked.

Alex Weston.

Tall, sun-warmed, All-American hot. He looked like the poster boy for an Ivy League admissions ad—clean-cut jaw, perfect hair, a smile that probably had a stock ticker of its own. He was a senior in the Communications program, always surrounded by people, always walking like the hallway bent for him.

"I didn't know he was in this class," Alice whispered.

"He transferred sections," Emma whispered back. "Apparently needed it to graduate."

Alice's stomach fluttered. It wasn't just that Alex was objectively attractive. It was that he seemed to be all the things she wasn't—polished, easy, already chosen.

"Okay," Emma whispered. "You're looking at him like he's an i********: ad you almost clicked on."

"I'm just... curious," Alice muttered.

"No," Emma said, "you're imagining what your last name would sound like next to his."

Alice rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

But when Alex glanced back once—just a flick of his eyes across the room—Alice swore the temperature shifted. Not toward her, not exactly. But she felt it anyway.

But that evening, he texted.

Jake: Lesson two. Tomorrow. 7. My place.

Alice: What's the dress code?

Jake: No dress. Sweatpants encouraged. Less distractions.

Alice: For me or for you?

Jake: Just get here.

That evening, Alice knocked on his door wearing exactly what he'd asked for: joggers, a tank top, and a very intentional sense of neutrality.

She wasn't here to impress him.

She was here to learn.

Jake opened the door with a glass of wine in one hand and a plate of sushi in the other.

"No champagne?" she asked, stepping inside.

"I'm trying to appear humble," he said. "It's hard for me."

The living room was lit by floor-to-ceiling windows and the golden haze of early evening. Alice kicked off her shoes and dropped onto the couch.

"So?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "What is it today? More packaging tips? Lessons on how not to be myself?"

Jake sat down across from her, eyes focused. "Lesson two is conversation."

She blinked. "Seriously?"

"Conversation is the foreplay of connection. Get it right, and someone will follow you anywhere."

"That's... a little dramatic."

"Wrong. It's science."

He handed her a glass and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, serious now. "The difference between small talk and seduction is timing. Curiosity. Control."

"You sound like you're about to sell me a TED Talk."

"Shut up and listen."

Alice smirked and took a sip. "Fine. Teach me how to talk, professor."

Jake didn't smile. "Talk to me. Ask me something. But not basic. Not job-interview boring. Make me stay."

It was harder than she thought.

Because when he looked at her like that—dark eyes expectant, jaw relaxed, hair a little too perfect—it made her mind short-circuit.

She cleared her throat. "What's the worst lie you've ever told someone to get them to stay the night?"

Jake blinked once. Then let out a soft, surprised laugh.

"Okay. That's better."

"Well?" she said.

He shrugged. "Told a model I had early-onset insomnia and I couldn't sleep unless someone was in the bed."

Alice raised an eyebrow. "That's terrible."

"She stayed three days."

"You're disgusting."

"I'm effective."

She rolled her eyes but didn't stop smiling.

Jake leaned back, tapping the rim of his glass. "Your turn."

"What, you want me to lie to you?"

"No. I want you to keep me here."

Alice paused, running her fingers along the wine stem. Her heart beat faster, but she forced herself to lean into it.

"You ever wonder if all of this..." she gestured at the view, the penthouse, him, "...was just compensation for being ignored when you were fifteen?"

Jake tilted his head, impressed.

"Damn. That's a little harsh."

"You told me to be interesting."

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I wasn't ignored," he said. "I was invisible. Big difference."

Alice went still. The air in the room changed.

"I know what that's like," she said quietly.

Jake looked at her. Really looked.

Then: "Lesson two and a half—don't look away when you hit something real."

She didn't.

And for a long moment, they sat there, silence like tension wire between them.

Then he stood up abruptly, grabbing the bottle. "Okay. Enough emotional excavation. Let's play a game."

"Oh no."

He handed her two notecards and a Sharpie. "Write down two things: one boring fact about yourself, and one that would make someone want to kiss you."

"I hate this already."

He shrugged. "You agreed to the lessons."

Alice sighed and scribbled quickly, then handed the cards over. Jake did the same.

He shuffled them and read hers first.

"'I chew my pen caps during exams.' Sexy."

"Realism," she said proudly.

Then he read the second.

His mouth curled.

"'I once read a guy's favorite book just so I could talk to him about it—and he never found out.'"

Jake's eyes lifted to hers. "That's actually kind of... intimate."

Alice shrugged, suddenly shy.

He handed over his.

The boring one read: I forgot my assistant's birthday three years in a row.

"Nice," Alice muttered. "CEO of empathy."

The second card read: I remember people by how they made me feel the first time I saw them.

Alice stared at it longer than she meant to.

Jake didn't look away.

Their eyes locked.

Everything stilled.

"Lesson three," he said softly, stepping closer. "Touch, when earned, is ten times more powerful than touch taken."

She raised her chin, defiant despite the goosebumps rising on her arms. "What does that mean?"

Jake gently reached out, and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"It means this," he said, voice lower now, "is more dangerous than a kiss."

Alice swallowed hard.

"I should go," she said.

Jake didn't argue.

He didn't stop her either.

"Same time next week?" he asked as she slid her shoes back on.

"I haven't decided yet," she said, not turning around.

But her smile gave her away.