Teach Me, Jake

If there was one thing Alice Carter was certain of, it was that Jake Kingsley would be late. It was practically a law of the universe by now—Jake was never on time. Not for movie nights. Not for birthday dinners. And definitely not for Saturday brunches. Especially not after a Friday night, which, judging by the half-naked blonde who answered his phone this morning, had been... eventful. Still, she sat at their usual corner table at Café Luna, stirring her iced coffee with the straw, pretending not to check the time every other minute. Pretending she wasn't nervous. That she hadn't spent the last two days rehearsing what she was going to say to him. You're twenty-two, Alice. It's time. The bell above the café door chimed and, like clockwork, every head turned. Because Jake Kingsley didn't just enter a room—he owned it. Six-foot-something, golden tan, messy dark hair that somehow always looked perfect, and a smile so cocky it should've been illegal. "Hey, Ali." His voice was smooth, casual, like this was just another morning, just another meeting. Like she hadn't been trying not to spiral into a full identity crisis while waiting for him. She rolled her eyes, masking her nerves with a familiar smirk. "You're twenty-five minutes late." He leaned down to kiss her cheek before sliding into the seat across from her. "Traffic. And brunch with you isn't exactly something I can rush into without mentally preparing myself." "Oh, please. You're just hungover." Jake grinned. "I prefer 'pleasantly recovering.'" Alice took a deep breath, fingers gripping her coffee cup. This was it. Now or never. "So... I need your help." Jake raised an eyebrow. "If this is about fixing your WiFi again, I swear—" "No." She cut him off, cheeks flushing. "Not WiFi. This is... different." She glanced around. The café was busy enough to feel safe, but quiet enough that she knew he'd hear every word. She leaned in a little, lowering her voice. "I want you to teach me how to be... you know. Sexy." Jake blinked. "Sexy?" "Like... dating, flirting, kissing, whatever it is that you do that makes girls throw themselves at you. I want to learn how to do that." Jake blinked again. Then leaned back, as if waiting for the punchline. "Wait—are you serious?" "Dead serious." "You want me to give you lessons? In flirting? In—what, seduction?" She nodded, trying not to squirm. "I'm tired of feeling invisible. Of sitting on the sidelines. I want to know what it feels like to have a guy look at me like I'm worth chasing. Like I matter." Jake's expression shifted. For a moment, she saw something flicker in his eyes—something unreadable, almost... protective. But it was gone just as fast, replaced by his signature smirk. "Well, damn. You came to the right place." Alice exhaled, unsure if she was relieved or about to do something very, very stupid. Jake leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Alright, sweetheart. Let's make a deal. You do everything I say—no second-guessing, no backing out—and I'll turn you into someone guys trip over themselves to get to." "Even you?" she teased, half-joking. Jake's gaze dropped to her lips, and for a beat too long, he didn't answer. Then the smirk returned, lazy and dangerous. "Careful, Ali. You don't know what you're asking for." But maybe... she did. And maybe, just maybe, it had nothing to do with the other guys.