Jack would have loved nothing more than to offer all of his favorite historical facts to Phoebe. Sincerely.
That's what made her different than all the other girls he fucked. (Because technically, she wasn't a girl that he'd fucked. Yet.)
"You do? I always think about you. All the time, not just when I'm studying history."
As if this were some sort of competition on who thought about the other more, who missed the other more. Jack wasn't trying to one-up her or anything, but he was trying to get into her pants. Maybe tonight would finally be the night?
Phoebe seemed to really love the tidbit about the squirrels. She perked up immediately in a way that Jack found absolutely fucking adorable. It was going to ruin him. She grabbed his arm, gushing over the squirrels that Jack had only seen once.
"Squirrel Jack was definitely doing crazy shit. And Squirrel Phoebe was totally fluffing her tail, you're right, I think I saw that."
Jack grinned, searched for her eyes.
"That's why you need to tell me when you're at the library. So I can go see you, and so we can see our squirrel counterparts together."
Jack's hand was still resting at her lower back, rubbing gently above her denim skirt. She was so fucking hot. And sweet, and her smile was really nice, and whenever Phoebe took a hand to the back of her curls, Jack wanted to die because she was so fucking cute.
He couldn't help it — Jack leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. He leaned into her completely for a quick five second kiss, before pulling away. He hadn't said hi yet, had he? He had now.
"I don't think you can be a bunny and a squirrel, though. What are we gonna do?"
'You do? I always think about you. All the time, not just when I'm studying history.'
Thud, thud, thud, fast and hard and frantic, is the pace of Phoebe's heart against her breastbone. Wide, captivated, enraptured is the look in her eyes.
How did this even happen?
How did Phoebe attend the mixer, by luck, meet Jack, by luck, and somehow everything is unfolding as if she'd dictated herself it in a fucking dream journal?
It was all so perfect. The margarita on her tongue— cold and sweet and tart. Jack's smile— boyish and charming and aimed only at Phoebe.
What a gentleman. Phoebe ducks her head, quietly imagines Jack thinking of her at night, in the dark of his room. Had he dreamt of her yet?
Things were progressing well. Was it so crazy to think Jack might want to make it official, at some point? Maybe soon? Ish? Maybe tonight he would dream of Squirrel-Jack and Squirrel-Phoebe scampering across the lawn together.
'That's why you need to tell me when you're at the library. So I can go see you, and so we can see our squirrel counterparts together.'
Immediately she's nodding.
"I will! I'll text you each time!" She nods again, as if to put an emphasis for Jack on just how seriously she meant this. "And I'll help you study. And when we need a break, or something, we can try to win the squirrel's trust, or something." Well— realistically, they wouldn't be doing much studying. But that was fine! She smiles proudly regardless. "There was a turtle at my old school that would always come when I tapped the water."
In all truth— it was a captive animal, at a man-made pond behind the gymnasium. But Phoebe likes to think the animal recognized her, especially when she had been given the coveted assignment of feeding it each day. She had chucked those pellets in with such gusto!
But the turtle wasn't even the point. The point was the squirrels. The point was Jack thinking of her. The point was that leaning in to kiss her now and Phoebe smiles so wide against the touch.
'I don't think you can be a bunny and a squirrel, though. What are we gonna do?'
She frowns— takes this moment to lean in against him, chest pressing against his, one arm curling tighter round the muscle of his bicep. That felt good. Felt like she was cuddling up against a boyfriend.
"I'm definitely a bunny, right? I'll be whatever you tell me I am. But I do think I'm a bunny..."














