And I have no idea why. Which is lame because I have never really spent time with him. When Hughie and I used to game together back in freshman year, he lived with Jake but we didn’t interact. I was…aware of his presence but I didn’t put any stock into it. So I couldn’t tell you why it bothers me so much that he isn’t making small talk or smiling at me or…anything.
I watch him work, brows furrowed. “Did I piss you off or something?”
That makes him glance up, and for half a second there’s this flicker behind those pretty eyes. But it’s gone just as fast, replaced with that annoyingly neutral expression again.
“No,” he says shortly.
Right.
Sure.
“Okay…” I draw the word out slowly, watching him like I might be able to make the puzzle pieces click together with sheer mental effort.
I sit there on the table, awkwardly cradling my shoulder like a wounded puppy, while Jacob heads back to his laptop and resumes whatever god-level spreadsheet he was surgically inputting before I came in. The ice pack's already starting to numb the ache, but the room itself feels way too tense.
I clear my throat hoping he will look up at me. I couldn’t tell you why but I have this intense need to have those intense baby blue eyes on me.
So, naturally, I double down on being annoying because I desperately want his attention.
“You’re in my physiology class, right?” I ask, letting my voice go casual like I’m just making conversation.
Jacob’s fingers pause on the keyboard for a millisecond. He doesn’t look up.
“Yeah,” he says after a beat, like he has to think about it. “Mondays and Wednesdays. Nine a.m.”
I snort quietly, shaking my head. “I fucking knew it. I swear I’ve seen you in there a few times. You always sit in the third row, right side.”
That finally gets his attention. He looks at me then and it’s not the usual polite glance or bored acknowledgment. It’s surprise like I just caught him off guard. And then, somehow, impossibly, there’s this blush. Just this subtle wash of color creeping up his cheekbones.
His face goes this soft, unreal red, dusting across those sharp, perfect cheekbones like it doesn’t quite belong on a real person. It’s not the blotchy crimson of a drunk, sweaty college kid who’s had one too many cheap beers, and it’s definitely not the over-the-top flush of someone swooning. It’s gentle and warm. The kind of pink you’d see on the skin of a Pink Lady apple.
It’s fucking beautiful.
It hits me square in the chest, sharp and unexpected. For half a second my brain just straight-up blue screens, stuck on one impossible fact that I did that. I made him blush.
“You noticed where I sit?” he asks softly like he’s trying not to sound weird about it. Like he’s deciding whether this is flattering or mildly alarming.
I shrug with my good shoulder. “I notice a lot of shit.”
And then I actually do notice something. Not just the passing, half-assed acknowledgment that, yeah, he’s pretty. I really look at him this time, let my eyes linger longer than they probably should.
He’s beautiful.
Like… really fucking beautiful.
Strong jaw, stupidly full lips, long lashes that should honestly be illegal on a man, and that carved-from-marble kind of face that looks like it belongs either in a museum or on some TV. He has the kind of face that feels unfair in an academic setting.
And I don’t know why I’m only clocking it now. I mean, I’ve seen him before, obviously. We have some of the same classes. Hughie’s brother, for fuck’s sake. But now, maybe because he’s standing so close, or maybe because my emotional stability today is about on par with a wet paper towel, it all hits at once. The way his arms flexed when he wrapped the tape around my shoulder. The way his brows pull together when he concentrates. Even the small scar above his left eyebrow.
How the hell did I never notice that?
Meanwhile, I’m sitting here shirtless on a training table, staring at him like a full-blown creep.
Awesome.
I clear my throat again, way more awkward than smooth. “Anyway. That class sucks. The professor talks like he’s actively trying to lull us into a coma.”
Jacob lets out a short laugh, barely more than a breath.
