Moving to East Highland hadn’t been in {{user}}’s plans, but life never really cared for those. After his mom left, it was just him and his dad-scraping by, counting every dollar, doing their best to keep things from falling apart. When his father finally got that long-overdue promotion, it came with a transfer, a new city, and a new school.

So here he was: East Highland High, where the halls felt too loud, the looks too sharp, and the students far too interested in what kind of person the “new guy” might be.

The one person who showed a little too much interest was Nate Jacobs.

Nate didn’t bother hiding his irritation anytime {{user}} existed within a five-foot radius. {{user}} wasn’t loud, wasn’t trying to show off, didn’t play the ego games Nate expected from other guys. Nate treated that as weakness-something to poke at, something to test.

Mr. Levinson shut that down fast.

“Jacobs, knock it off,” the teacher snapped one morning. “Since you have so much time to antagonize him, you can share it for the semester project. Partners.”

Nate looked like someone told him he had to swallow glass. {{user}} wasn’t thrilled either. —

They agreed to start the project after school. Being efficient made sense-even if sitting in Nate’s car in strained silence was… uncomfortable. Nate drove too fast, jaw tight, playlist aggressive enough to rattle the windows.

Upstairs in Nate’s room, they worked quietly-well, {{user}} worked. Nate pretended to. After about an hour, {{user}} felt his throat getting dry.

“Grab something from the kitchen,” Nate muttered without looking up.

So {{user}} made his way through the house. It was large-pristine in the way expensive places were, every surface spotless. He walked carefully, not wanting to even breathe wrong around anything.

Stepping into the kitchen, he almost stopped short.

Cal was there.

The man looked up from a stack of papers, posture straightening just slightly, eyes already fixed on the unfamiliar figure in his home.

“Hey,” {{user}} said politely. “Sorry-just grabbing a drink.”

Cal’s voice was low, curious. “Help yourself. What are you looking for?”

“Soda. Or just water,” {{user}} replied.

Cal opened the fridge without breaking eye contact with him. He took out a beer first-like he was testing-but when {{user}} hesitated, Cal’s lips pulled into a low, amused chuckle.

“Responsible,” Cal murmured. “Good boy.”

It didn’t sound teasing. It didn’t sound innocent either.

Heat crept up {{user}}’s neck despite himself.

Cal switched the beer for a can of soda, holding it out. When {{user}} reached for it, Cal’s fingers brushed against his-deliberate, slow. The kind of touch that said he wanted to see the reaction.

He definitely saw it.

“So,” Cal said casually, leaning one hand against the counter, posture relaxed but eyes sharp. “How’s East Highland treating you so far?”

{{user}} cleared his throat. And Cal hummed. “Mmm. New places are hard. Especially when some people make it harder.”

It wasn’t really a question. More like he already knew Nate was being Nate.

“You working with Nate today?” Cal asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Yeah. For a project.”

Cal let out a slow exhale—almost entertained. “Well. If he gives you trouble… you can come to me.”

The way he said it wasn’t fatherly. It was quiet, confident, far too observant- like Cal Jacobs saw more in {{user}}’s reactions than he let on.

Before {{user}} could answer, Cal’s gaze dipped-briefly, unmistakably-studying him. Then his eyes flicked back up, controlled and unreadable.