enemies to lovers with jack schlossberg slowburn asf

e l e v e n

You met Jack's eyes once more, and the look he gave you made your heart race.
It was so clear he recognized you, but the way he looked at you—almost as if daring you to acknowledge the recognition—suggested a game you weren't sure you wanted to play.

You tried to recollect yourself, feeling that heat rise to your cheeks as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The awkward silence between you everyone felt heavy and went on longer than it should have.
It was as if time was doing that thing again
where everything had slowed down, and every second felt like an eternity.

What was Jack playing at? Was this some sort of twisted game meant to embarrass you?
On one hand, you tried to convince yourself that it didn't matter, that you didn't care about his opinion, what he thought of you or how he had told people he hadn't known you.
But on the other hand, his recognition—and the way he was handling it—made you care more deeply than you wanted to admit.

You didn't feel delusional in thinking that he remembered you because there just was no way he could have forgotten you. He wasn't someone prone to forgetfulness or confusion—unless all that alcoholism truly impaired his memory.

which seemed unlikely in this context.

Trying to maintain a facade of nonchalance, you gave a quick nod and pulled out your phone. Inside, however, your heart was pounding so loudly that it felt as if it might burst through your chest. Your fingers were shaky as you fumbled with the Uber app, desperately trying to focus on something—anything—other than the intense stare-down you had just endured.
The chatter around you continued, but it was distant and muffled. You stood there, feeling as if you were in a different world. The noises seemed to fade away, replaced by with your internal thoughts.
You awkwardly tried to navigate your phone. The screen felt like a lifeline, even though you could barely concentrate on it.

Your hands were so unsteady that you accidentally opened several other apps you had no intention of using, you might as well have been on the calculator app.
One of them was a news app with articles you had no interest in, another was a social media feed filled with updates from people you barely knew. The bright screen felt harsh against your eyes, making it all the more difficult to focus.
Every swipe and tap felt like a clumsy mistake, and you could sense that your attempts to appear composed were failing miserably.

You knew you had to check on your ride—it was the only thing you could do to ground yourself in the moment. With a deep breath, you forced yourself to concentrate. You carefully navigated back to the Uber app, trying to ignore the distractions your trembling hands had created.
The map loaded slowly, and you peered at it, hoping for some reassurance.
Finally, the screen displayed the estimated time of arrival for your Uber.

Jack's gaze followed your quick, nervous movements, noting how your fingers twitched as you scrambled on your phone. He watched intently, taking in every detail of your anxious behaviour until he broke the silence with a question. "How is it that you work full-time at the White House, and I've never heard of or seen you before?" he casually asked but his eyes remained sharp, fixed on you with intensity that made it clear he was waiting for a real answer.
You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. Your mind raced as you scrambled to come up with a response that would satisfy his curiosity.

Theo gave Jack a sharp nudge in the chest to quiet him.
"Ow," Jack said with a wince, pulling Theo's hand away and lifting his own in a mock gesture of surrender.
"Hear me out," Jack said, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace as he moved closer to you. His approach carried some form of seriousness.