Chapter 5: Hidden Desires

It started with a look.

Not the kind of look people exchanged across classrooms or parties — this wasn’t casual curiosity. It was sharp. Controlled. Burning.

Jake felt it the second he walked into the student café that Monday morning.

He wore a baby pink knit sweater tucked into a plaid skirt, long socks hugging his legs and a soft cloud of perfume trailing behind him. His hair was freshly styled — loose layers around his face, falling just so over his lashes. It wasn’t just that he looked good. He looked unreachable.

He didn’t need to scan the room to know Nate was there.

He could feel it.

And when he moved to the counter, placing his order with a calm sweetness, he turned — casually — and caught the stare.

Nate was at the back table. Hoodie pulled up, but his eyes were clear. Focused. On him.

Jake met his gaze for two full seconds.

Then turned away without smiling.

---

Later that day, Jules practically flopped onto Jake’s bed, phone in hand. “You know people are already talking about you, right?”

Jake was at his desk, painting his nails a deep wine red. He barely glanced up.

“Good things, I hope.”

Jules laughed. “People are saying you’re some kind of sexless vampire. Everyone wants you, but no one’s touched you.”

Jake smiled faintly. “Let them wonder.”

“You don’t even flirt back. You just… exist. And people lose their minds.”

Jake looked up now, holding Jules’ gaze.

“I’m not here for people, Jules.”

“Then who?” she asked, teasing.

Jake didn’t answer.

But his mind flashed to a pair of clenched fists, a jaw that always looked like it was trying not to break, and eyes that followed him like a storm.He smiled a little.

---

The next encounter happened at practice.

Jake wasn’t watching football — not really. He was sitting on the low wall near the edge of the field, idly scrolling through his phone, wearing sunglasses and sucking on a red lollipop. But he was placed perfectly in Nate’s peripheral vision.

Every time Nate threw the ball, tackled someone, barked out a command — Jake was there.

Not looking at him.

Not reacting.

Just being.

And Nate was unraveling.

He messed up plays. He snapped at his teammates. He looked at Jake more than the end zone.

Jake finally pushed it further when practice ended.

As Nate passed by, sweaty and shirtless, Jake stood — slowly, gracefully — and let the lollipop fall from his lips with a small pop.

“Catch,” he said, and tossed Nate a fresh towel.

Nate caught it, breathing hard, eyes locked on him.

Jake took off his sunglasses, tilted his head.

“You looked hot out there.”

He turned and walked away without waiting for a response.

---

That evening, Nate showed up at Jake’s dorm.

No warning. No text.

Jake opened the door in a loose black tank and silk shorts, legs bare, makeup faint but flawless. His skin still glowed from a hot shower.

He looked like something you weren’t supposed to touch.

And Nate looked like someone who wanted to break that rule.

“What are you doing here?” Jake asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Nate didn’t answer. His eyes were scanning Jake’s body, pausing on the rise of his hip, the curve of his throat.

“You’re messing with me,” Nate finally said, voice tight.

Jake blinked. “Am I?”

“You know what you’re doing. You walk around dressed like that. You stare. You send messages without sending anything at all.”

Jake’s lips parted in a faint smile. “And what does that do to you, Nate?”

Nate stepped forward. His hand landed flat against the wall beside Jake’s head, his breath hot, chest inches from Jake’s.

“You’re playing with fire.”

Jake’s smile grew. “You’re the one who came to my door.”

Their eyes locked.

Nate’s nostrils flared. His other hand twitched like he wanted to touch, to grab — but he didn’t.

Jake leaned up slightly, his voice a whisper.

“You’re obsessed with me.”

Nate didn’t deny it.

He didn’t say anything.

He just stared — like Jake was something he hated needing.

Jake finally broke the silence.

“You want me.”

“I shouldn’t.”

Jake stepped forward, their bodies brushing — soft silk against hard muscle.

“But you do.”

Nate’s hand dropped from the wall. His jaw clenched.

“You’re dangerous.”

Jake gave a breathless laugh. “You have no idea.”

Then he stepped back, brushing past Nate into his room.

“Close the door if you’re staying.”

Nate hesitated for a single second.

Then the door clicked shut behind him.

---

They didn’t touch.

Not yet.

Jake sat on the edge of his bed, curling his legs under himself, sipping from a water bottle like this wasn’t the most charged moment of the week.

Nate stood in the corner, hands at his sides, body tense like a wire about to snap.

Jake watched him over the rim of his bottle. “Do you know how long I’ve been watching you?”

Nate’s voice was rough. “Too long.”

“Do you know how many girls look at you and see a boy they want to change?”

“And you don’t?”

Jake’s eyes gleamed.

“No, Nate. I want you exactly as you are.”

That shut him up.

Jake placed the bottle down, stood slowly, and walked to Nate.

He reached up — gently, slowly — and smoothed a piece of hair from Nate’s forehead.

His fingers lingered at the temple. Then slid down the line of his cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” Jake whispered.

Nate caught his wrist.

Hard.

Jake didn’t flinch.

His pulse thudded in his neck, but his eyes stayed locked on Nate’s.

Nate’s grip loosened.

“I don’t know how to want you,” he said, voice almost broken. “Not in a way that makes sense.”

Jake leaned in until their lips were nearly touching.

“Then don’t make sense.”

---

> Jake wasn’t in a hurry.

He didn’t need Nate to confess.

He only needed him to crumble.

> And piece by piece, Nate was already his.

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