Jake never believed in second chances.

Not in life, not in love, and certainly not in anything as ridiculous as reincarnation. Yet here he was — blinking up at a ceiling he didn’t recognize, his heart racing in his chest like it belonged to someone else.

The ceiling fan spun lazily above him. Blue LED light glowed beneath the crack of the bedroom door. Everything felt quiet. Too quiet.

Until he saw the poster.

"East Highland High — Fall Registration Begins"

Jake’s breath caught.

No.

No way.

This was fiction. A show. A story he had devoured episode by episode like a drug — and now it was real. Tangible. And he was inside it.

He sat up, heart pounding as he took in the body he now wore. The t-shirt he slept in was oversized, but it couldn't hide the changes. His waist was small, cinched tight in a way he’d only ever seen on Instagram influencers or edited photos. His skin was impossibly smooth, almost porcelain. His thighs curved, his arms delicate but toned, and when he glanced in the mirror beside the desk…

He gasped.

He was stunning.

Like, jaw-droppingly beautiful. Thick, layered dark-blond hair framed his face in soft waves, brushing his cheekbones. His lashes curled so long they kissed the tips of his brows. His lips — full and naturally pink. His frame… petite, but with that ridiculous hourglass shape that even Jules — now apparently his sister — had never been gifted with.

He looked like someone drawn straight out of a fantasy.

And that’s when it hit him.

This wasn’t a dream.

This was Euphoria.

And he was in it.

---

“Jake?” came a voice from behind the door. “Orientation in twenty. You good?”

It was Jules.

Jake paused, hand tightening around the bedsheet. This was real. That was really her voice.

“I’m good,” he called, trying to steady himself. “Be out in a sec.”

---

Later that afternoon, they arrived at the East Highland College gym. The heat was sharp, sun catching on the pavement as music pulsed from a nearby dorm window. Jake walked a step behind Jules, deliberately slow, eyes scanning.

He knew what today was. The start of everything. The day Nate Jacobs first locked eyes with Maddy.

Except… this time, Jake had other plans.

He wore a pair of compression shorts that left nothing to the imagination, paired with a slim cropped hoodie zipped halfway down, revealing his collarbones and the delicate slope of his chest. His hips moved with purpose — not exaggerated, not fake — but with an easy, practiced sway that turned heads.

And then he saw him.

Nate Jacobs.

Six-foot-three. Built like a goddamn linebacker. Jet-black curls slicked back, a thin sheen of sweat already glistening across his arms and jaw. His eyes — sharp, heavy-lidded — surveyed the room with that signature mix of arrogance and control. The black tank top clung to him like a second skin. He carried his water bottle like a weapon.

Jake’s breath hitched the moment their eyes met.

Because they did.

Nate saw him. Looked straight at him. Not past him. Not through him.

At him.

Jake’s lips parted slightly, the ghost of a smirk forming. He didn’t break the gaze — not for a second. And in that instant, everything else in the room fell away.

There was no Maddy. No Jules. No other students or gym rats or music.

Just them.

And Nate’s stare was not casual.

It was curious. Appraising. Sharp.

Jake knew that look. He had memorized it from every rewatch, every freeze-frame of Nate eyeing Maddy like she was a challenge he hadn’t decided how to break yet.

Except now, Nate was giving that same look to him.

Jake turned away — deliberately — and bent down to tie his sneaker, making sure his ass arched just enough. He felt the air change. The temperature drop.

And then, the footsteps.

Heavy. Steady. Getting closer.

“New here?” came a low, gravel-rich voice behind him.

Jake straightened slowly, hiding the smile in his eyes before turning to face him.

“Yeah,” he said softly, brushing a hand through his layered hair. “Just moved in with my sister.”

Nate’s gaze flicked over him — from his lips to his waist to the bare skin beneath his hoodie. His jaw clenched once.

“Your sister?” he asked.

Jake tilted his head. “Jules.”

Something flickered behind Nate’s eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or calculation.

Then he stepped closer — too close. The heat from his body brushed Jake’s skin. The scent of his cologne — wood, spice, something almost bitter — flooded Jake’s senses.

“I’m Nate.”

Jake smiled — not too wide. Just enough to tease.

“Jake.”

The corner of Nate’s mouth twitched. Almost a smirk. Almost.

And then — someone called Nate’s name.

Maddy.

Jake’s eyes darted past Nate’s shoulder. She was strutting into the gym, perfect hair, lips glossy. Nate turned slightly, and Jake saw it — that automatic reaction. That pull.

No.

Not this time.

Jake stepped forward, placing his hand — gently — on Nate’s chest. Right over his heart. It was bold. It was dangerous.

“I’ll see you around, Nate,” Jake whispered, his voice like warm honey.

And then he walked away.

He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to.

He knew Nate was still watching.

---

Back in their apartment, Jules flopped onto the couch, humming. “That place was exhausting. Everyone’s trying so hard.”

Jake smiled to himself in the mirror as he removed his hoodie, exposing the delicate strap of a tight black crop top underneath.

“I think I made a good impression,” he murmured.

Jules raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Just someone I met at the gym,” he added casually. “We talked a little.”

He didn’t mention Nate. Not yet.

This had to be perfect.

Jake walked to the window and looked out at the streetlights. Somewhere across campus, Nate Jacobs was probably pacing. Confused. Intrigued. Hungry for something he couldn’t name.

And Jake?

He was going to give it to him.

But only on his terms.

> This time, Nate wouldn’t belong to Maddy, or Cassie, or chaos.

He would belong to me. He's Jake's. Entirely.

Nate Jacobs didn’t get distracted.

He was the kind of guy who played football like a war game, memorized patterns like math, and dated girls like they were checkboxes to be ticked — hot, submissive, popular. Nothing ever surprised him. No one ever kept him up at night.

Until now.

Until Jake.

That first glance in the gym had burned itself into Nate’s memory like a scar. Jake — soft voice, silky hair, and that figure that practically defied biology — had looked at him like he already knew what Nate wanted… and was daring him to ask for it.

But it was that moment — the touch to Nate’s chest, featherlight but full of intent — that had done it.

Jake had touched him like a question. Then walked away like an answer.

Nate had barely registered Maddy's voice after that.

And for the first time in a long time, Nate wasn’t thinking about control.

He was thinking about him.

---

The next morning, Jake was already dressed when Jules knocked on his door.

“Morning, princess. You coming with me to campus or are you working on your dark magic today?” she teased, sipping an iced latte.

Jake turned from his mirror, where he had just finished applying a light shimmer to his collarbone. His outfit was deliberately understated today — a white, slightly oversized sweater that hugged just enough and a pale blue pleated skirt that barely brushed mid-thigh. Legs bare. Lashes curled.

He looked like temptation packaged in innocence.

“I’ll walk with you,” Jake said sweetly, slipping his bag over one shoulder.

“Someone’s glowing,” Jules noted, giving him a sideways look as they stepped outside. “You meet a boy already?”

Jake just smiled.

He didn’t need to say anything. Not yet.

---

Later that day, Nate sat behind the wheel of his truck, parked in the back lot behind the football field. His jaw was clenched, one hand loosely gripping the steering wheel, the other tapping his thigh.

He didn’t know why he was here.

Or maybe he did.

He’d seen Jake again that morning — crossing the quad with that same impossible grace. Talking softly to Jules, smiling faintly, the sunlight catching in his layered hair. His sweater dipped just enough to show a hint of the base of his throat.

And Nate had looked.

More than once.

And Jake… he had known.

When their eyes met for a second time, Jake hadn’t smiled. He hadn’t waved. He had simply tilted his head, like he was studying Nate from a distance, as if Nate were the artwork and not the other way around.

It pissed Nate off. He didn’t like being made to feel like prey.

But it also turned him on.

---

Jake found him again that afternoon.

He wasn’t stalking Nate, not exactly. But he knew his patterns — the way he lingered by the weight room after practice, the path he took to his truck, the bench where he sat while cooling off.

Jake waited for the perfect moment.

Nate had just exited the gym, earbuds in, shirt off, towel slung over one shoulder. Sweat clung to his torso in all the right places — cut abs, tense arms, veins trailing down his forearms.

Jake approached with the quiet steps of someone who didn’t need to be noticed — because they would be anyway.

“Hey,” Jake said softly, almost like a secret.

Nate froze.

Turned.

And stared.

Jake stood there, holding a cold bottle of water — already uncapped — and extended it to him like a gift.

“You looked thirsty.”

Nate’s eyes narrowed. “You following me?”

“No,” Jake lied smoothly. “But I remembered how intense your workouts looked. Figured you might like this.”

Nate stared at the bottle. Then at Jake.

He took it.

Their fingers brushed.

Jake didn’t flinch.

Nate’s throat bobbed as he drank.

Jake watched his lips. The water that slid down his throat.

“You always like this?” Nate asked after a beat.

Jake tilted his head. “Like what?”

“Teasing. Bold.”

Jake stepped closer. “I’m not teasing. I just like... getting what I want.”

Nate didn’t respond right away. His chest rose and fell slowly. His eyes locked onto Jake’s, unreadable.

And then: “What is it you want, exactly?”

Jake smiled.

You.

But he didn’t say it.

Instead, he reached out, adjusting the collar of Nate’s towel, letting his fingers linger against his collarbone.

“Maybe I’ll let you figure that out.”

Then he walked away again.

No goodbye.

No backward glance.

And once again — Nate stared.

---

That night, Jake sat on his bed, legs tucked under him, texting Jules about class schedules while his mind spun through every second of that interaction.

Nate was slipping.

He saw it — the way his stare held too long, the way his hands clenched, the flicker of heat behind the guarded eyes.

Jake wasn’t just pretty. He was crafted.

Everything from the way he dressed to the soft curve of his voice was calibrated for one purpose:

To draw Nate in.

To consume his attention.

To replace every trace of Maddy.

And it was working.

He wasn’t just watching Nate.

He was rewriting him.

---

Across campus, Nate laid in bed, phone untouched, scrolling through a playlist he couldn’t focus on. He kept thinking of Jake.

The way he walked — like he knew the world would follow.

The way he looked at Nate — not with fear, or awe, or desire, but with ownership.

Like he already had him.

Like he had always had him.

And the way Nate’s stomach twisted every time he imagined that skirt lifting, those fingers dragging along the line of his abs—

Nate shoved his phone aside, frustrated.

This wasn’t normal.

He didn’t get obsessed. He didn’t lose control.

And yet… when he closed his eyes, all he saw was Jake.

All he heard was his voice.

All he wanted was more.

---

> Jake didn’t just want Nate to look at him.

He wanted Nate to need him.

And Nate… was already falling.

Jake had always known what kind of boy Nate Jacobs wanted.

Not just because he’d watched Euphoria enough times to memorize every flicker of Nate’s eyes, every heat-laced glare he threw at Maddy, every time he clenched his jaw and looked like he wanted to destroy something — or someone. Jake had studied Nate. He’d obsessed over the contradictions in him. The tension between power and repression. Violence and longing.

So Jake didn’t need to guess.

He already was the answer.

He just needed to make sure Nate realized it.

---

The next morning, Jake stood in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, stripped to his underwear and staring hard at himself.

His figure was flawless — tiny waist, hips that curved just enough, smooth, pale skin that practically glowed under soft light. He’d found the perfect balance between femininity and boyishness. A look that blurred lines, invited confusion. The kind of body that made straight men question themselves and closeted ones lose sleep.

He applied a light shimmer to his collarbones and neck, just enough to catch the sun.

Then came the outfit — a white ribbed tank top so tight it clung like a second skin, paired with a short black tennis skirt that flounced just the right amount when he walked. Over it, a cropped letterman jacket he knew would remind Nate of every cheerleader he’d ever fantasized about.

Except this time, the cheerleader was a boy.

He finished the look with glossy lips, a touch of highlighter, and his signature scent — soft amber, with a trace of musk.

He was ready.

---

Jake didn't go looking for Nate that day.

He knew better.

He made himself visible — effortlessly, casually — just enough to stay in Nate’s line of sight. Walking past his locker, brushing by him in the hall, stretching on the quad where the team did warmups.

Each movement was calculated. Each glance, a slow build.

Jake smiled at other boys, laughed in the halls, but never gave anyone the time of day. Not the way he gave it to Nate.

He was everywhere Nate looked, but never available.

And Nate noticed.

---

Nate sat at the edge of the locker room bench after practice, towel around his shoulders, chest still heaving from the game.

His teammates joked and threw towels, but his focus was distant.

Jake had passed him outside not twenty minutes ago. His skirt lifted just slightly in the wind, hair falling around his flushed cheeks, lips parted from the heat.

Nate had stared. He knew he had. But he couldn’t help it.

Jake wasn’t just pretty.

He was irresistible.

And what made it worse — Jake knew it.

---

That night, Jake made his real move.

He waited until late — until the party was already going, until Nate had arrived with Maddy in tow, the two of them barely speaking. Jake knew this scene. Had memorized it from the show.

He just had one change to make.

This time, Maddy wouldn’t be the center of Nate’s attention.

Jake would.

He entered the party dressed in nothing short of perfection. A deep burgundy halter top that bared his back, paired with skin-tight leather shorts that left his legs bare and gleaming. His boots gave him just enough height to meet Nate’s gaze with defiance. His lips were blood red, his eyes smoky and daring.

He stepped into the room like he owned it.

And the world paused.

People turned. Girls stared. Guys whispered. Some gawked. Some tried to speak to him. He ignored them all.

Because Nate was watching.

Jake felt it instantly — that same heavy, possessive gaze across the room. Nate’s expression unreadable, jaw locked, hands fisting at his sides.

Maddy tugged on his arm. Spoke to him.

Nate didn’t hear her.

His eyes were locked on Jake.

Jake smiled.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he walked past the couple — brushing so close to Nate that their arms almost touched — and whispered, “You came.”

Nate didn’t respond. Didn’t blink. But his body turned to follow, his head shifting slightly, like something magnetic had just walked by.

Jake didn’t stop walking.

---

Minutes later, he felt Nate’s presence behind him — like heat crawling up his back.

They were in the hallway now, alone, shadows spilling across the floor. Music thumped in the next room, but it was faint here, like a heartbeat under water.

Jake leaned casually against the wall, one leg slightly bent, exposing a stretch of thigh.

“Took you long enough,” he said without looking at him.

Nate’s voice was low. Gruff. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jake turned his head, the barest smile on his lips. “Standing here. Looking pretty. Making you lose your mind.”

Nate’s jaw tightened. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” Jake whispered, stepping closer. “I think it’s working.”

There was a pause. Charged. Heavy.

Then Nate’s voice again, even lower. “You trying to make me want you?”

Jake's breath ghosted across Nate’s chest as he leaned in, eyes glittering with danger and charm.

“I don’t need to try, Nate,” he murmured. “You already do.”

The tension snapped tight between them.

Nate’s hand clenched into a fist against the wall beside Jake’s head, but he didn’t move closer. Not yet. His body trembled with restraint.

Jake watched his expression — the flicker of conflict, the desperation underneath.

Then he dropped his voice, velvet soft. “Tell me you don’t want me.”

Nate didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

Jake leaned up on his toes, brushing his lips against Nate’s ear.

“You can’t.”

He pulled back, eyes glowing with victory.

And walked away again.

---

> Jake didn’t need to chase Nate.

He just had to make sure Nate couldn’t look anywhere else.

> And now, Nate was falling — hard, fast, and utterly under his spell.