Phoebe wants to fit in — doesn't want to be too obtrusive or presumptive either. In the table in the living room there is an assortment of shot glasses, an assortment of unopened bottles, and she watches as Jack pours himself a shot, watches as Jack takes the drink back over to the couch.
Oh. Which is fine. Phoebe can pour her own drink! She can walk herself over to the couch where Jack sits! But Phoebe pauses. Decides to wait for the twins, doesn't want to step in front of them and elbow her way forward for the alcohol.
It ... matters a lot. Being someone who Jack feels like he can bring around to his home.
One of the twins seems incredibly sympathetic to Phoebe's plight with statistics.
'No way. Who is your stats professor? I aced Dr. Browning's course. Connie and I built this website that's sort of like a cheat-sheet for classes. It's got like — an online library of notes and study materials and forums. It's invite only, but I'm sure we can hook you up.'
Oh, wow— that was nice! Really nice! A whole website of cheat-sheets. And that tracks, if she thinks about it. Jack was incredibly smart. Jack was incredibly generous. It made an awful lot of sense that the people he surrounds himself were the same.
But before Phoebe can say thank you— before Phoebe can say anything— Jack makes a point to interject.
'Phoebe and I can study together,'
A beat.
'But yeah, maybe that website might be helpful for her other classes.'
Phoebe swallows. Turns to Brooks with a smile.
"Jack has been a very good teacher. But, um, thank you, so much, for the website. That sounds like it probably took forever to do."
Hah. Good teacher indeed.
She inhales, for a half-second, twines her hands together and taps her index fingers in some incoherent rythym. What was she even feeling now? Her face is... warm. Her pulse is elevated. If Phoebe didn't know any better, she would say that Jack had gotten .... jealous? Was he jealous? Jealous that his friend had offered to help Phoebe?
Almost as if he doesn't want anyone else getting ideas.
The idea of that was kind of thrilling. The idea of that definitely felt better than the mild knot of confusion in Phoebe's chest. Which— she's probably overthinking. And it's possibly the case that Jack just isn't big on the real ooey-gooey stuff in front of others? Maybe he's more reserved about it. Maybe, in front of his friends, he likes to save certain things for a more private room. Flirting is fun, teasing is fun, but maybe there's some things he wants to keep to himself? Which is fine! It wasn't a big deal! Jack was still so sweet to her — still a complete gentleman.
That much is evident when he invites Phoebe over to his lap, invites her to share a drink as well. His palm pats his knee in emphasis.
'Phoebe. Baby. Come over here,'
Baby. Baby, baby, baby. And just like that, Phoebe is back to strutting on cloud nine.
'We'll share a shot. Doesn't that sound fun?'
She all but skips over to Jack's lap, sets herself down upon his knee, arms twining tightly around his neck in order to secure himself.
"That sounds veryyyyyyy fun."
She hums thoughtfully. Crosses one ankle delicately over the other, mindful of the length of her skirt.
"If it doesn't taste good, I could always be your chaser...."
Jack didn't really know what he was feeling sober, much less when he was drunk, or when his friends were around, or when Phoebe was.
Decoding what it is that he felt would require a great deal effort. Perhaps total desertion on some faraway land where Jack didn't have access to his phone or the internet or anyone. A place where he was truly alone so he could just fucking think and figure everything out. No noise, no doubts, nothing.
Now was not the time to do that.
Jack waved those thoughts away as quickly as they'd arrived. It was very easy for him to not care. So he did just that.
When Phoebe finally took a seat in his lap, he felt relieved. Slightly less competitive, but also, not really. Jack placed a hand on the back of her thigh — purely for modesty purposes, of course.
"You won't need that website because you'll have me," Jack told her. There was something about Phoebe being totally and utterly dependent on Jack that he really liked. It turned him on. Made Jack's world go 'round.
"Will you be my chaser anyway?" Jack wondered. He reached for the tiny shot glass, filled nearly to the brim. Tequila. A lot of bad decisions came from tequila shots.
"Open your mouth? I'll pour. I'll pour really slow," he promised.
A very ineffective way of taking shots, yes, Jack knew that, but he didn't fucking care.