Chapter 3: Becoming the Fantasy

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.