The first chapter was published in the Welcome Week Edition. Read here: I (salt)burn for you, Jacob Elordi.
You try to focus on your tutor, Graham Norton but can feel Jacob’s gaze burning into your skin.
“…. You will have a critical essay, a creative reflection piece, and a final presentation. In this unit, we usually do group presentations, however this year our unit coordinator has decided to do something different after complaints that some students were not pulling their weight in group work.”
Jacob has stopped staring at you and listens intently to the unit outline.
Then Graham says, “The presentation will be completed over the course of the semester in pairs of my choosing.”
You look around at your classmates as Graham Norton calls out the pairings. You try to see who you can recognise besides the rude boy sitting next to you and that’s when you hear:
“Jacob Elordi and Y/N.”
You’re frozen in your seat. This is the fifth time you are forced to interact and now you have to work with him for the whole semester.
As if registering your reaction, Jacob leans over and whispers, “Hello, partner.”
—
You make your way to your favourite spot on campus, the Schaeffer Fine Arts Library. You desperately hope that your safe space will provide some semblance of comfort during what will likely be the most tortuous two hours of your life: working on an assignment with Jacob Elordi.
Unsurprisingly, he’s late.
You feel yourself aggressively pushing down on the keyboard as you type, because of course Jacob would waste your time. He’s probably taking this unit as a WAM booster.
You hear a commotion and jolt your head up to see Jacob scrambling his way through the door. His large frame takes up most of the space and he has to duck his head to get through the door frame.
“Y/N, I’m —”
“Sorry that you have been wasting my time?” you interject. You make a point of crossing your arms against your chest.
“Yes I know but if you’d let me explain —”
“I know you might think that this unit is a joke but to me it’s not. And don’t think for one second that I will carry you for this assignment”.
“Shush!” The tall librarian is standing next to you, clearly unimpressed. You mouth a ‘sorry’.
“Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insinuate that. I just thought you might want a caffeine hit so I got an iced oat latte,” he says grinning as if his tardiness had been excused. You look down and find that he is holding your favourite drink. Of course, it looks miniature in his large hands.
“How did you know that was my favourite drink?” you ask, unwilling to say anything else.
“You’re an Arts student, so iced latte with alternative milk seemed like the safe choice. See, it’s not just us college students that are predictable.”
He says this with an amused voice and before you know it, he snakes into the seat next to you. You can feel the heat radiating off him — it has nothing to do with your body’s reaction, it’s 33 degrees outside. Trying to reign in your wandering mind, you clear your throat. He’s too close to you.
Does he notice it, or is it just you?
Jacob, mirroring you, clears his throat and says, “Right, well, let’s get started then”.
—
For your tutorial Graham Norton is going through Robert Burns ‘Ae Fond Kiss’.
In between Graham’s monologue, where he employs extensive use of hand gestures, Jacob leans over to you.
“What’s the best place to kiss on campus? On the count of three, we both say it.”
Not wanting to indulge his fantasies, but also wanting to hear his ideal spot, you end up saying, “Schaeffer Fine Arts Library” while he says, “Vice-Chancellor’s Garden.”
“That’s why you’ve been taking me there!” exclaims Jacob.
“No that’s not true! It’s because it’s one of the quietest spots.”
“Huh. I was going to say the same about the VC garden. There’s the bonus of Mark Scott lurking around.”
“You’re rebel shtick is too forced, Jacob.”
“We’ll see about that — and which place reigns supreme.” He turns back, intently listening to Graham.
—
Now, you are running late for another study session with Jacob. True to form, you make your way through the Fine Arts Library with your iced oat latte in hand. You scan across the desks, trying to find the recognisable Drews jersey stretched across broad shoulders and toned arms.
Finally, you spot Jacob, his head resting on his knee. He somehow manages to neatly curl his large frame onto the chair. His eyebrows are scrunched together, like he’s deep in thought and he’s furiously scribbling in a notebook.
“What have you got there?” You walk over to him and Jacob immediately slams the book shut. You notice a pink tint to his cheeks.
“Oh you know, trying to write a response to the several love letters sent to me. I have to let them know that I’m currently spoken for by a study buddy who likes to keep her partner waiting.” He gives you a sly grin and places his hand on his heart.
You spot the librarian, fingers to his lips. You nod and mouth ‘sorry’.
“Charming,” you reply deadpan. “So, how did you go with analysing Coleridge’s ‘Christabel’? Can I see what you’ve got?”
“Oh, um…” The cocky Jacob is now nowhere to be found.
“Yeah I think I found some good stuff on SparkNotes.” He is clicking through tabs on his computer, you catch a glimpse of a heavily annotated Word document which looks eerily like the poem you asked him to analyse.
“What was that?”
“What was what?” Jacob asks.
“Don’t try to be cute, it’s not going to work.”
“I’m always cute.” He winks.
“Come on, I swear I saw something —-” You reach over, trying to find the tab.
“Just leave it Y/N. I said it was nothing. Let me find the SparkNotes,” tilting his computer away from you. That was the most serious Jacob has ever been.
“Okay, fine,” you relent, “What does SparkNotes say?”
—
A few weeks pass and throughout your sessions together Jacob offers little to no insight. Whenever you ask what he thinks, you are met with curt replies. Whenever you look over to him his eyes remain focused on his laptop but you can feel his magnetic gaze piercing into you whenever you look away.
Today’s the day where you’ve officially had enough, it’s a late night study session and after a long day of trying to wrangle your FASS3999 group members to edit their sections, your patience has run thin.
When you make your way into the Fine Arts Library, Jacob’s bravado is gone, his cheekiness non-existent and he seems completely uninterested in discussing anything. Alas, his attractiveness cannot always make up for his lack of participation.
You swiftly turn to face him.
“What is going on with you? I get that you may not feel underprepared for this class, but could you at least try and make this a bit easier for me? Graham Norton is expecting our interdisciplinary statement and you’ve been no help.”
Jacob keeps his eyes focused on the computer screen. He mumbles something but you can’t exactly make out what he’s said.
“For someone who is the loudest in almost every room he walks into, you’ve been incredibly quiet. WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?”
“This is a library, you need to be quiet or leave.” The librarian, again. You nod, wincing.
Once you both leave and sit outside, Jacob lets out a big sigh, and speaks just a bit louder, “I wanted to say that I don’t know if I can help.”
Now, it’s your turn to sigh. Instead, you let out a dry laugh.
“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this. Why can’t you help? Too many formals this week?”
“Look, forget I said anything, I thought you’d hear me out.” He shakes his head and begins to get up.
Oh God. He’s genuinely upset. Without thinking you reach out to grab him, your hands touch and you both freeze. Ignore your heart thrumming, you think to yourself.
“Jacob, wait. You can tell me what’s going on. I promise it’s an anti-college free zone now.” He looks a bit hesitant, but sits back down.
“I don’t know if I can help because I don’t think I’m good at this stuff.” He scratches the back of his neck with a sheepish look on his face. “And I’m not pretending to be all soft right now.”
“Why did you take this unit? I can’t imagine this being a mandatory unit for a Bachelor of Commerce.” Jacob suddenly remembers how to laugh.
“Economics, ” he corrects you, “But very perceptive Y/N.”
No one speaks, each of you waiting for the other to elaborate. You take the lead, and gesture with your hands, encouraging him to go on. After what feels like eternity, he speaks.
“I’ve always loved English and the Arts. I actually wanted to do English Extension 2 and Drama in Year 12 but Dad didn’t agree with me”.
While this seemed like something out of a clichéd fanfic, you still empathise with him. The broken look on his face was spreading across his broad shoulders. He was slumping. He didn’t look as tall anymore.
“Jacob I —”
“I know it’s probably stupid, I’m no good at this stuff anyway — ”. Both you and Jacob know that he is rambling at this point.
“Jacob, stop. I don’t want to give unsolicited advice, but please do remember that no one is entitled to decide your life path for you. Even your parents.” Jacob doesn’t immediately respond. His brows furrowed in deep thought.
“Can I show you something Y/N?”. He pulls out a well-used leather bound notebook, the initials J.E. marking the cover.
“What’s this?” you ask.
“My poetry. For a long time, I had put writing to the side. I had my whole life planned out. Um, it’s been a while since I thought about it and that was until…”
“Until what?” you ask, trying to ignore your heart racing.
“Just read a few.” Your eyes frantically scan the pages, as Jacob looks for one poem to show you. You pick up on the fact that he is always addressing his poems to one person.
Someone who is helplessly clumsy,
Someone who always drinks oat iced lattes
Someone who wouldn’t go anywhere without a tote bag (in case they bought a new book)
Someone who is you.
You look up.
“Let’s just say I didn’t feel motivated to write again until I had thoughts that I couldn’t articulate in person. I actually hadn’t given much thought to writing until I started to be around you, Y/N.”
“Jacob I-”
“You don’t have to say anything, let’s get into this project, can’t disappoint Graham Norton now can we?”
After this revelation Jacob begins to open up, providing brilliant observations of the texts you’ve been studying. What a shame he never got to do Extension 2 English.
“Thank you for today Jacob. It was really brave of you to show me that, I know how personal writing can be.”
“I’ve been trying to work up the nerve to show you that all semester. Ever since you crashed into me Y/N I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.”
His eyes briefly flicker to yours. You notice the golden specks within his eyes and his eyebrow piercing glinting in the light. His long arm stretches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Slowly, Jacob leans in. And then it happens, right outside the Fine Arts Library.
You’re on your toes, while he hunches down to help you reach him. You wrap your arms around his shoulders for support while he lifts you slightly. Everything around you fades. You only feel his soft lips, eyebrow piercing and newly-shaven face. He was warm and now all that warmth was spreading across your body.
You pull away and finally let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
He’s still staring at you, silently asking for more. So you say, “Jacob, thank you for showing me this. The poem I mean, not the —. Your writing is amazing. Not that the kiss wasn’t, it was, um.” He grabs your hand. You feel your cheeks heat.
“Now let’s get you to the train station, can’t have you missing the train.” You walk together down Eastern Avenue towards Redfern.
—-
You and Jacob are sitting next to each other during another one of Graham Norton’s tutorials. Today, he is discussing how all good writers are made when they are outside their comfort zone.
“Now you!” He points towards Jacob as he leans excitedly in his chair. “Tell me about what would push you out of your comfort zone”. He says in his upbeat Irish lilt.
Jacob is quiet for a moment, then says, “You know, I’ve even been thinking about having a go at acting.”
“Acting! I love it. Big round of applause for Mr Elordi, I am sure we will see him on the stage one day.”
You lean over and whisper, “Jacob, I know exactly how to make that happen! You should meet my friend Tabatha, she’s the Vice President of SUDS? I’m meeting her at Flodge tonight. I’m sure there’s a slot you could audition for!”
He pauses for a moment, then grinning, says, “Anything for you Y/N”.
——
You meet Jacob beneath those ugly lights outside the Holme Building. Tabitha texts and you and Jacob walk side-by-side across Footbridge, your tote bag gently hitting him when you stand too close. When Jacob isn’t looking, you crane your neck up to sneak a glance at him. You don’t want to give a free pass to all college kids, but how could you ever have thought he was one of the narcissistic ones.
When you walk through the corner door, you immediately notice Tabatha sporting her classic look of jorts, Salomons and her carabiner. You can hear her keys jingling as she runs up to you.
“Y/N! Finally, we’ve been waiting for ages. Paul is about to finish his shift and — .”
“Paul? As in Paul Mescal?” Jacob asks, sounding slightly incredulous.
“Yes. You know Paul?” Tabatha asks excitedly. “By the way, we haven’t been formally introduced, I’m Tabatha.” She stretches out her hand.
“Jacob.” He shakes her hand and smiles.
The three of you settle into a table in the back room –– Tabatha has long been addicted to her Mango vape –– and you can feel your cheeks warm as his large hand spreads across the small of your back. This momentary elation doesn’t last for long, because his hand fists your shirt.
“What’s he doing here right now?” You turn to see Paul with his hairless arms crossed against his chest.
Jacob looks from you to him and then says, “What can I get you to drink Y/N?”
“Y/N always splits a jug of Young Henrys with me.” Paul mutters.
“I think I’d rather have Y/N tell me what they’d like,” Jacob responds without a beat. They both look towards you.
“I actually think I’ll get the house white today, sorry Paul.” You see him glare at Jacob.
The group falls silent. Tabatha, ignores the tension and says, “This is going to be one long hangout, isn’t it?”
—-
Hours pass. Despite the clear animosity shared between Paul and Jacob, you are thankful for Tabatha; she tries her best to keep the conversation light. Paul doesn’t add much to the conversation, instead you can catch him looking at you, his eyes narrowing everytime Jacob leans in closer to you.
“Jacob,” Paul says suddenly, interrupting Tabatha who is explaining why SUBSKI is the most terrifying society on campus.
“Why are you here? Not that I don’t love your company but surely there’s some Drews event that needs you.” Jacob lets out a humourless laugh.
“Jacob was actually thinking of joining SUDS, because he wants to get into acting. I thought Tabatha might know about some upcoming plays,” you answer before Jacob can get a word out. You see Paul’s eyes bulge, clearly shocked by this.
“Who would have thought, Jacob Elordi, a thespian! What happened, you wouldn’t be caught dead near the theatre at Scots. In fact if I remember you and your rugby boys tearing down posters for the school play, or better yet you guys kept calling it the Year 11 g —”
“What a memory you have Paul,” Jacob interrupts before Paul, who seemed to be enjoying every minute of this. Tabatha, on the other hand, is wincing.
Jacob continues, “Well, you’ll be glad to know that people grow up after school. I’m sure you’re not the same guy who bailed on his date the night of her Year 12 formal – I think someone said he basically ran away from pres.”
It now seems that it’s Paul’s turn under the microscope. He averts his blue eyes away and takes a long sip of his Young Henry’s Ginger Beer.
“That poor girl! Paul is that why you’re so into Run Club, bit of a commitmentphobe?” Tabatha nudges Paul trying to ease the tension.
Paul lets out a strained laugh. You feel Jacob lean into you, much more relaxed.
“Since we are reminiscing, Jacob, do you remember that time your mates made that tally of all the Ascham girls you hooked up with?”
You feel your stomach drop. Jacob is starting to sound exactly like the narcissistic college kid he’s proven himself not to be.
However, Jacob appears not to be perturbed.
“Don’t get me started on that Paul. It was disgusting. Firstly, not my mates, just some guys who were on the Water Polo Team with me. And second, as soon as I found out, I apologised to the girls,” Jacob shakes his head in disappointment. He looks remorseful, and looks to you for confirmation, while Tabatha is trying to catch your eye.
You make a mental note to ask Jacob about this later.
“Huh? That’s likely,” Paul responds.
Jacob counters, “Speaking of Ascham girls, what was that thing between you and Phoebe Bridgers? Or was that Daisy Edgar-Jones? The timelines were always a bit foggy.” Tabatha almost spits out her drink.
“Wait Phoebe as in Phoebe Bridgers who goes to the Con, I know her!”
At least Tabatha seems to get a word in this back and forth.
“You don’t know about this? I swear it was the only thing people would talk about. We’d all go to Sheaf Wednesdays, one week he’s with Phoebe Bridgers, the next Daisy Edgar-Jones, then Phoebe again. You get the idea.”
Jacob leans across the table, thrilled to be bonding with Tabatha.
“The Sheaf!” Tabatha shrieks.
“Oh come on Paul, I feel like I don’t even know you anymore. How could you!”
“Didn’t you end up ghosting both of them anyway? That what—” Jacob tries to continue.
“Y/N, can you come outside?” Paul interjects, eager for this conversation to end.
“They almost kicked me out last time I used this inside,” Paul reveals his Lemon Lime and Crystal Vape Bar. You nod, eager to talk some sense into Paul — Jacob will be dealt with later.
As you follow Paul outside you hear Jacob ask Tabatha about upcoming SUDS auditions and you can’t help but smile.
—-
“Jacob Elordi, seriously Y/N? I warned you about him. He’s a college kid for God’s sake,” Paul is quick to launch right in.
“Paul, you need to stop. It’s all really new, and we’re not in a relationship yet. I’m trying to figure this all out myself. And hey, you’re always saying we shouldn’t be quick to form first impressions.”
“I know, but c’mon He goes to Drews College, Y/N. There’s not much there to challenge. You have always said they are entitled, sexist —”
“Okay yes, I know college kids are like that but —”
“Y/N, after you first met him you kept saying how he’s —”
“A predictable private school boy who has never had an individual thought in his life,” you vividly remember, almost laughing at your naivete.
“Y/N you even said that he likely hasn’t read a piece of literature beyond the Daily Mail. He’s just not the guy for you.”
“I get what you’re saying Paul. I could give you a hundred reasons why Jacob isn’t the guy for me.” As you open your mouth to explain that Jacob has given you a thousand reasons why you could see yourself with him, you hear someone clear their throat behind you.
It’s Jacob, holding a glass of Brookvale Union, another one of your favourites. You had mentioned it briefly during one of your ‘study’ sessions.
“Well, I think it’s time for me to head back to the dorms, can’t be away from the boys that long right?” Jacob’s voice is dripping in sarcasm and…. was that hurt?
“Wait Jacob, I wasn’t finished, it’s not like that —.” You step towards him and he takes a step back. His long legs take him almost two metres away from you.
“I’ve heard enough. I’ll send you my parts of the draft for Graham Norton by the end of the week.” Jacob looks at Paul momentarily, who cannot wipe his victorious expression, and says, “I’ll see you in class.”
“No Jacob, I wasn’t done speaking. And by the way, what was that back there about the tally?,” you reveal what’s been eating away in your mind.
“I don’t deny that those guys did that but I promise you they aren’t my friends. It was douchey and sexist, I know. But you pretend you’re above me and then ignore that when you’re with me? That’s pathetic.”
“Don’t you dare speak to her that way,” Paul jumps in, his Irish lilt emerging.
“And who are you?,” shouts Jacob, lifting his fist in the air.
“He’s my friend,” you say emphatically, standing in the middle of the two.
Jacob looks down to you, and lowers his fist. He steps back and says quietly, “Okay, Y/N. You can stay with your friend.”
He takes off down the street back towards campus, his long legs moving him impossibly fast. How did this happen?
“C’mon, let’s go back inside,” Paul says with a smile on his face. But your thoughts are scrambled, how did so much happen within the span of my day. Only hours ago, you were kissing Jacob outside the Fine Arts Library.
“No, I just need to go home. I don’t know what just happened. I’m so confused and —” You glance down at your phone. It’s 12:41, you missed the last train.
“And I’ve just missed the last train!” Your voice cracks, the emotion of the day finally catching up to you. Paul pulls you into a hug.
“You can stay at mine tonight, Gladstone Street isn’t far from here.” All you can do is nod as he holds you.
It won’t register until tomorrow morning that Paul probably should have dropped you home in his car, when Jacob sees you walking out of Paul’s place.
Jacob Elordi will return. So will you.
