#jack webber

You gathered your courage and knocked on the door, once, twice, three times, before stepping back and waiting. The seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, so you waited a beat and then knocked again, this time a little sharper. You heard rustling inside and footsteps echo before the door swung open and a man was looking out at you through the screen.

This man was not at all who you were expecting to answer the door. He was about your age, maybe a little older, but not much like most of the dads of your other students. He had a little facial hair and soft blue eyes and tousled hair that was shorter on the sides. He blinked heavily, as if you had woken him up from a nap, and from the red lines on his face, maybe you had. Even in a wrinkled grey t-shirt and plain sweatpants, he was cute. Maybe more than just cute.

He opened the door and stepped out onto the porch with furrowed brows. “Good afternoon, is this the Webber residence?” you asked, making sure you had the right place before you went spouting Dylan’s information.

“Yeah, can I help you?” he asked. He was watching you critically, as if he was assessing you.

You relaxed a little in relief. “I’m from Dylan’s school,” you greeted, holding out your hand for him to shake. He shook it with furrowed brows, his grip firm, but gentle. 

“Is Dylan in some kind of trouble?” he asked, looking worried. 

“Goodness no!” you rushed to shake your head, letting out a short laugh. “The opposite really. He’s such a smart kid, and we’re all so proud of him. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t get behind on his schoolwork because of the paper plane competition in Sydney. Me and his other teachers thought he would want to catch up on the work he missed. He worries so much about his grades, and I didn't want him to get too far behind,” you explained and a flash of understanding crossed his guardian's face.

“Ah, I see,” he nodded and his face softened into a more open expression, “Are you Ms. Y/l/n?” 

You blinked in shock, “I am, how did you know?” you asked. All the kids had at least 4 teachers they saw everyday.

“Dylan talks about you all the time, and he said you were his prettiest teacher, so… I guessed,” he shrugged. 

Your eyebrows raised as you let out a laugh at his gall. “Good guess,” you nodded, face growing hot at being called pretty, especially as a gold ring glinted on his left hand.

“Yeah, come on in,” he stepped back so you could step in. “I’m Jack Webber, Dylan’s dad.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Webber,” you smiled, stepping past him and into the home. 

“Jack is fine,” he said, closing the door and leading you into the main part of the house. It was small, but cozy, if maybe a little messy. 

“Okay, Jack then,” you agreed, stopping in the kitchen and waiting for Jack to round the counter before laying the folder of Dylan’s work on the table. 

“We just got back this morning, and Dylan is out with a friend, but run me through it and I’ll tell him later,” Jack requested. 

“That would be great,” you beamed, cracking open the folder and taking out the papers. “So, for my class, we went over some world history, Ancient China and Japan. I marked the pages in his book,” you said, pulling out the textbook from your bag.

“Right,” Jack nodded, slapping his hand gently on the book as he took it from your hands. “Got it,” he said, finger absentmindedly finding the pink tabs you had used to mark the 4 pages. 

“Mathmatics and Science sent worksheets that he already has the books to go along with,” you informed him, tapping the two worksheets on the counter. “And English, he just needs to read two chapters of his book,” you finished, sliding the sheets back in the folder and closing it. 

“Seems simple enough, I’ll be sure he gets it done,” Jack nodded.

“That would be great,” you smiled, sliding the materials across the table. “Oh!” You exclaimed, remembering. “Before I forget, you and your wife are invited to the showcase next week at the school. Dylan’s Science project and the poem he wrote for English will both be on display,” you informed him.

Jack's smile faltered before sputtering out all together. “Right, uh, my wife died, it’s just me,” he replied, eyes suddenly laden with grief.

Your mouth fell agape at the news. “Oh my- I’m so sorry. I’m horrified, I truly had no idea! Dylan talks about her so much, and you have on the ring. I just…” you forced your mouth to close so you would stop talking. 

“It’s fine,” he said, smiling tightlipped as if to try to relieve your worry. “I should have told all of his teachers, but I just- I didn't think about it,” he informed. 

“And that’s perfectly fine, Jack. You have bigger things to worry about. We just all want what's best for Dylan,” you reassured him.

Jack nodded, jaw clenched tightly. He tried putting on a brave and polite face, but you still felt the shift. At the reminder of his wife, Jack had shut down completely. 

“Well, we would still love to see you stop by. Dylan has been working so hard in school,” you said.

“I’ll see,” he said stiffly, and you felt that was your cue to go. 

 “Of course, it's a busy time of year,” you smiled, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I should get out of your way and get going,” you said, clasping your hands together anxiously.

“Thank you for stopping by,” Jack replied curtly. 

You pressed your lips together. “You’re welcome. Let me know if I can help with anything. Give Dylan my congratulations for winning second place!” you said. 

“Thank you, I will,” Jack promised. You turned and walked back out through the small mud room and onto the porch, the hot sun beating down on you as you walked across the yard to your car. That had gone about as well as you feared. 

You had rather mucked it up.

-

The next time you saw Jack Webber was at the Waleup Primary School showcase a week later. You were efficiently organizing the flow of people going through your classroom as they observed the 3D posters your classes had made. Dylan had been at a competition when his class had made them, so he unfortunately missed having one shown. 

Which explained your complete surprise when Dylan and Jack Webber walked into your classroom towards the end of the night. They had no apparent reason to stop by other than to say hello to you. 

The room had just cleared when you spotted a head of bright blond hair coming through your door frame. “Ms. Y/l/n!” Dylan exclaimed, running up to you and beaming wide. 

“Dylan!” you smiled back, “How are ya, bud?” you asked.

“I'm great! My dad is here,” he informed you, looking behind him as his dad caught up with him. 

The sight of Jack Webber made you clam up. You had ruined the conversation so badly last time and you were fairly embarrassed over bringing up his wife in the manner that you had. He must harbor some resentment towards you and your poor conversational skills. 

But despite the blunder last week, you could still admire him. Jack was in a brilliant blue polo that brought out the blue of his eyes. The shirt was tucked into jeans and paired with white sneakers, making you realize he cleaned up nicely.

“Hi,” Jack said, nodding kindly in greeting. The awkward tension that had been between you the last time you had seen him seemed to be replaced with a more easygoing tone. Jack was all smiles and kind eyes tonight.

“Hi, Mr. Webber,” you smiled, “It’s nice to see you again.”

“It’s Jack, just Jack,” he noted.

“Right, Jack. I’m so glad you both could make it,” you said, laying a hand on Dylan's shoulder and bringing him in for a light hug. He wrapped his arms around your middle and squeezed back. 

You let go as Dylan moved closer to the other children’s posters. “Can I still make one even though I wasn't here?” Dylan asked, pointing to the boards full of timelines, tiny buildings, and pictures of ancient civilizations. 

“Of course! We can start tomorrow,” you promised.

“Yes!” Dylan hissed, smiling wide as his eyes darted over the posters, deciding what he wanted to do for his own.

“What do you say?” Jack said quietly, moving his head as if to urge his son.

“Right! Sorry, uh, thank you!” Dylan added. “Can I do Egypt?” he asked. 

“You’re welcome, of course! I'll show you how to make a pyramid out of paper,” you offered.

“You can make anything out of paper,” he said excitedly. 

“I’m sure you can, I don’t know about the rest of us,” you laughed. 

“He certainly didn't get it from me,” Jack chuckled, eyes glittering as he smiled at you. 

“I was never much good at it either,” you agreed. 

Dylan glanced between you, mind working out different scenarios and coming to a conclusion. “Maybe I could teach you both! It’s easy! Let’s say, tomorrow night? You could come over for dinner, Ms. Y/l/n.”

“Oh, um,” your words fell short as you couldn't think of how to properly respond.

“Woah… Dyl, she is probably very busy. She might have a family to be with or obligations. And you don't know what I have planned for tomorrow,” Jack chastised his son. 

“You will be doing what we always do, nothing, and she lives alone! Come on! It would be fun,” Dylan pleaded. Your eyes bugged out at him saying you lived alone. He was right, but you had never told any of your students that. 

It seemed the father and son waged a silent battle, but Dylan apparently reigned victorious. 

Jack sighed at his son before looking back up to you. “If you aren't busy, would you like to come over for dinner?” he asked. 

“Oh, thank you, but I couldn't impose,” you pressed your lips together, your face heating as Dylan’s smile fell. Your heart squeezed at the sight.

“You wouldn't be. The bugger is right. It would be fun,” Jack promised, a furrow of his brow and a turn of his lips made the offer even more inviting. 

“Alright, if it's no bother,” you shrugged. 

“Yes!” Dylan pumped his fist. “Do you like spaghetti?” 

You nodded, “I love it,” you answered.

“Spagetti it is then,” Jack nodded. “We better get out of your hair, but how about tomorrow at 6, is that good?” he asked, laying a hand on Dylan's shoulder. 

“That sounds perfect,” you smiled. 

“Perfect,” Jack echoed, smiling back. 

“Come on, dad! I need to show you my project for Science!” Dylan urged.

“We better go before they start closing up shop,” Jack agreed. 

“Bye Ms. Y/l/n, See you tomorrow!” Dylan called, waving at you. 

“Bye Dylan, Bye Jack,” you waved in return as they both turned to leave out of your classroom. Jack lifted a silent hand as they departed, eyes locked on yours over Dylan's head as the boy chattered on about his paper mache volcano. 

When the Webbers disappeared past the door frame, you let your eyes close. You should not be going tomorrow night, not when you found Jack Webber so attractive and not when he was still mourning a beloved wife. 

What were you doing? 

-

The next day, at 5:59 sharp, you were standing on the Webbers porch, nervously shifting your weight from side to side. You knocked, waiting patiently for heavy footsteps to draw near. 

Jack opened the door with an easy smile on his face. He was back in a similar outfit to yesterday’s, except he had replaced the blue polo with a black t-shirt.

“Hello,” you greeted.

“Hey, come on in,” he motioned you forward, and you brushed past him to walk into the kitchen. The heat of his chest grazed your arm as you squeezed by. 

“I brought a few things,” you said as you paused by the kitchen table, placing down what you had brought.

“You didn't have to do that,” he commented, stopping beside you and looking down at the goodies.

“Nothing much. Ice cream for dessert, since Dylan mentioned his favorite was chocolate, and some Kami paper from Japan. Apparently it's the best kind of paper to make origami with, so I thought it would be neat for Dylan to try out,” you said, tapping the brightly colored paper.

“Wow, that's awesome. He’s gonna love it,” Jack noted and your shoulders relaxed a hair at the encouraging news.

“You’re here!” Dylan himself exclaimed as he ran into the room on thundering feet, the screen door slamming shut behind him. “I’ve been waiting all day for this!”

“For me?” you laughed.

“Duh, you’re my favorite teacher,” he scoffed good naturedly and you felt the sweetest lightness in your chest. This was what it was all about. This was why you did what you did.

You sat at their small dining table 30 minutes later, having just finished a plate of spaghetti with garlic bread to go with it. The food had been good, even though Dylan had cracked a joke earlier about his dad only knowing how to heat up spaghettios. The conversation had been even better. It felt easy to talk to the Webber boys, they cracked jokes and traded stories. Dylan told you all of his favorite parts about school and how his paper plane competitions were going. 

“Speaking of that, I brought you a little something,” you said, sliding out of the vinyl backed chair and grabbing the kami from the counter where you had thrown it before you ate. 

“It’s origami paper, so you can practice things other than planes too,” you shrugged, “if you want.”

“Really?” he asked, eyes widening, “thank you!” he exclaimed. 

“Of course!” You smiled. “I can show you how to do the pyramid to warm up, and then, eventually, you can teach us one.”

“Okay!” Dylan readily agreed.

Jack watched fondly from across the table as you unwrapped the paper and slid Dylan a green one, already knowing it was his favorite color. Jack wished he could bottle the joy and fascination on Dylan’s face and save it for rainy days. Life had seemed so bleak lately, but with you in the house, he found it didn't seem quite so hopeless. 

“Can I try too?” Jack asked, tapping the table and you pulled out a blue one. 

You slid the paper across the table to him. “Of course,” you chirped, freezing as Jack's hand landed on yours, drawing your eyes up to meet his. Your face heated as you realized it was intentional on Jack’s end. 

“Thank you,” he mouthed silently, nodding in gratitude for bringing a little light back into this house. 

You nodded back in response, drawing your hand back to your lap as Dylan started asking questions. 

-

When Jack walked you out to your car at the end of the night, you found yourself more nervous than you should be. A swarm of butterflies erupted in your stomach when he opened the screen door and politely gestured for you to exit first. 

When you both paused beside your car, you turned to thank him. But, instead you were shocked to find him just a few inches from your front, making your eyes widen and you both step back in surprise. 

“Sorry,” he chuckled awkwardly. 

“It’s alright,” you huffed out your own laugh and absentmindedly moved the sand underneath your feet with your shoe. 

“That was fun tonight. Dylan had a fun time,” Jack said. “And I did too,” he admitted. You found your eyebrows lifting in pleased surprise. 

“That was fun. I haven't laughed that much in a while,” you confessed. 

“Me neither. Maybe…” Jack wet his lips, before taking a fortifying breath, “maybe next time, I could take you out somewhere nice? If that's not… weird,” he smiled bashfully, scrubbing at the back of his neck. 

You sucked in a breath, smile involuntarily curving upwards. “With Dylan or…” you trailed off, unsure of his meaning and too fearful to assume. 

“No… Dylan could stay with a friend,” he shrugged. 

“Right,” you nodded, “I think that would be… good,” you forced out. It felt like your words were stuck or sluggish, your tongue slowed by nerves. 

“Good,” he repeated, face looking a little relieved. “I’m sorry if I’m being an idiot. I’ve never gone out with one of Dylan’s teachers,” Jack said, looking as if he found it a little amusing. 

You laughed, “And I’ve never dated a student’s parent,” you shrugged, heat rising to your face. “But there’s a first time for everything. Maybe we just don’t tell Dylan about our plans?” you suggested. 

Jack sighed out a relieved huff. “That would be great,” he nodded. 

“Perfect,” you agreed, nodding as well. “Then I should give you my number, and you can let me know when works for you,” you offered. 

He bit at his bottom lip before responding with, “Perfect.”

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