Teach Me, Jake

Chapter Four

Alice had never spent more than ten minutes getting ready for class.

Until now.

She stood in front of her mirror, adjusting the hem of the soft, off-shoulder sweater Jake had made her buy. It was cream-colored, cozy but fitted. She paired it with high-waisted jeans, a layered necklace, and ankle boots that made her feel taller—like she took up just a little more space in the world than usual.

Her makeup was light but deliberate, a soft brown on her eyes, a hint of shimmer, and a peach-toned gloss that Jake had jokingly said would "make shy boys forget their names."

She wasn't confident.

Not really.

But for the first time, she looked like someone who might be.

"Whoa," Emma said when Alice met her outside the design building. "Look at you. You've officially left 'quiet girl in oversized hoodies' behind."

Alice flushed but smiled. "Too much?"

"Too much? Girl, if anything, not enough. I saw two guys do a double take when you walked past. You're in your main character era."

Alice laughed, her fingers tightening slightly around the strap of her bag. Compliments always felt like trying on shoes that weren't quite broken in yet—nice, but strange.

Still, she appreciated it. Especially after days of "training" with Jake: how to carry herself, how to dress for her shape, how to subtly flirt without sounding like she was reading from a YouTube script.

He'd rolled his eyes the whole time but never once said she couldn't do it.

And now, maybe she believed that a little, too.

They were headed toward the student café when it happened.

Alice saw him.

Alex Weston.

He was walking straight toward them across the quad, his hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a sketchbook tucked beneath his arm. He was alone. No headphones this time. His eyes scanning the people around him—but not like he was looking for someone.

Until, suddenly, he looked at her.

It wasn't a glance.

It was a look.

A pause.

Like he recognized her—not just in the "we go to the same school" way, but something deeper. Like he'd seen her before and didn't know how or when, but it had stuck.

Alice's breath caught.

Emma whispered under hers, "Girl. He is looking at you."

And then, impossibly, Alex changed direction.

He was walking toward them.

No—toward her.

Her mind scrambled to remember everything Jake had taught her: how to smile like you're listening, how to breathe through nerves, how to not forget your name when a hot guy makes eye contact for longer than a second.

Alex stopped just a few feet away, his sketchbook shifting under his arm.

"Hey," he said, voice low and a little rough like he hadn't used it yet today.

Alice blinked. "H–Hi."

"I've seen you around before," he said, and he almost looked apologetic about it. "You're in that Lit class, right? Mondays?"

Alice nodded, trying not to panic. "Yeah. That's me."

He smiled, and wow—his whole face changed when he did. Softer, warmer. Like someone let light in.

"I'm Alex."

"I know," she said—then instantly regretted how fast that came out. "I mean—Emma mentioned you. Once. Or twice."

He chuckled. "Right. You're...?"

"Alice."

"Nice to meet you, Alice."

He didn't make a move to leave. If anything, he looked like he was trying to think of what to say next.

She beat him to it. "Do you... always sketch out here?"

"Yeah," he said. "It's easier to think outside. Less noise."

She nodded. "I get that."

And just like that, the tension softened. Not gone completely—her heart was still doing gymnastics—but it was easier to breathe. Easier to look at him without shrinking into herself.

Behind her, Emma was suddenly very interested in her phone. Subtle wingwoman move. Alice silently thanked her.

"I should get to class," Alex said after a beat. "But... maybe I'll see you around?"

"Yeah," Alice said. "Definitely."

He gave her one more half-smile, then turned and walked away.

Alice stood there, blinking, like someone had dropped her into a completely different timeline.

Emma let out a slow whistle. "Well damn. That was cinematic."

"I think I forgot how to blink," Alice whispered.

"You did great," Emma grinned. "You didn't faint or insult his shoes. Proud of you."

Alice exhaled shakily. "I think I'm going to throw up."

Emma laughed and looped her arm through Alice's. "You won't. And if you do, I'll hold your hair. But seriously—he came up to you. You didn't have to do anything."

But that wasn't entirely true.

Alice knew that.

The clothes. The makeup. The posture. The presence.

Jake had helped her build the outer shell that gave her the courage to be seen.

And Alex had noticed.

Still, as they walked across campus, Alice found her mind drifting—just briefly—not to Alex's smile, but to Jake's voice in her head.

You've got potential.

Maybe she did.

But why did it feel like the person she most wanted to tell about this moment... was him?

Jake was late. Again.

Alice rolled her eyes as she glanced at the time—7:39. They always said "seven," but he never arrived on time. Still, she always waited.

When he finally knocked and stepped into her dorm, he was his usual casual, cocky self. Black jeans, black t-shirt, leather jacket slung over his shoulder like he was starring in his own music video.

"You're glowing," he said immediately, looking her over. "Let me guess: Weston finally spoke."

She gave him a look. "You knew?"

"I saw you on campus earlier. He was basically devouring you with his eyes. Hard to miss."

Alice didn't know what to say. Part of her wanted to be excited. Part of her felt... weird.

Jake plopped onto her bed and patted the space beside him. "Come on, then. You ready for lesson Four: "

She sat down, still caught in her thoughts.

Jake studied her. "Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, forcing a smile. "Just... it felt nice. Him noticing me."

Jake leaned back, his eyes lingering on her face. "Of course he noticed you. You're... hard not to see now."

She didn't say anything to that.

Because the way he looked at her when he said it?It felt like he meant more than just her clothes.

Jake leaned back against her bedframe, his arm stretched lazily behind her like it belonged there.

"So," he said, watching her with a faint smirk, " what did he say."

Alice looked down at her hands. "Not much. He just... noticed me. Said he's seen me in class. Complimented my style."

Jake nodded slowly. "Well, he's not blind."

She glanced at him, eyebrow raised.

"Don't look at me like that," he added, shrugging one shoulder. "I'm just saying—this," he gestured to her outfit, "works. You look confident. Like you know what you're doing."

"I don't," she muttered.

"You don't have to. You just have to look like you do. That's ninety percent of attraction—presentation."

"You make it sound so easy."

Jake turned to face her fully, expression softening. "It's not easy. But it's not magic either. You're doing great. And you haven't even learned half the good stuff yet."

She gave him a look. "Oh yeah? What's next? Seductive blinking?"

He laughed, the sound low and warm. "Not quite. Tonight we're going into what I like to call 'vibe control.'"

"Vibe control?"

He nodded. "Basically, how to carry the right energy when you're talking to someone. Like... leaning in, eye contact, pauses. Knowing when to speak and when to let silence work for you."

"Isn't that manipulation?"

Jake smirked. "Everything's manipulation if you say it like that."

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling now.

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping just a little. "Let me show you something. Look at me."

Alice hesitated but then met his gaze.

"Now," he said, his voice softer, slower, "say something simple. Anything. Like... 'I like your shirt.'"

She raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Trust me."

She exhaled, sat up a little straighter, and looked him in the eye. "I like your shirt."

Jake's smile widened. "That was terrible. Again. But this time—pause before you speak. Lower your voice a notch. And don't rush."

She bit her lip, tried again. "I like your shirt."

Jake tilted his head slightly, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Better."

Alice sat back, heart beating faster than it should've. "This is weird."

He grinned. "That's because you're thinking about it too much. Flirting is like acting—you play the part until it becomes second nature."

"Easy for you to say."

"Not really," he said, and this time his tone was quieter. "I had to learn, too. Back then I was just some poor kid with a big mouth. No charm, no money. I faked it until people believed it. And eventually... I did too."

Alice blinked. She'd never heard him talk like that. No smug tone, no sarcasm. Just honesty.

She wanted to ask more—but didn't. Instead, she said, "Thanks. For helping me."

Jake looked at her for a long second. "You're welcome."

Something shifted in the air between them again.

And for the first time, Alice didn't look away.

They practiced for another hour—Jake making her repeat certain lines, correcting her posture, teasing her when she got flustered.

It was fun. Easy. Familiar.

Until, near the end, he leaned in again, close enough that she could smell the faint cologne he always wore.

"Now," he murmured, "say something like you mean it."

"What?"

He held her gaze. "Anything. Just... don't fake it this time."

Alice swallowed, her pulse quickening. She hesitated, then said softly, "I'm glad you're here."

Jake didn't smirk. He didn't joke.

He just looked at her for a moment too long.

"Yeah," he said. "Me too."

By the time he left, the room felt too quiet.

Alex might've noticed her first.

But it was Jake who saw through her.

And that was starting to feel like a much bigger problem than she'd expected.