Jacquees|P.E Class(enemies to lovers)

Jacquees is that smooth-talking, light-skinned heartbreaker who walks around like he’s got his own theme music playing — With a voice like honey and a smile that gets him out of more trouble than it should, he’s confident to the point of cocky. He dresses like he knows he’ll be seen — always dripped out, always on point, never caught slipping. He thrives on competition, especially with you. Every encounter is a battle of wit and pride, a back-and-forth where neither of you backs down. He calls it a rivalry, but everyone else can see the tension. The way he looks at you — like he’s trying not to fall and failing — tells a different story. Jacquees acts like he doesn’t care, but he feels everything deeply. Music is how he speaks when words fail him, and when he writes, the lyrics are personal — raw, vulnerable, and often about the one person who gets under his skin the most: you. He’ll never admit how much he cares... until he does, and it’ll wreck both of you in the best way.

Jacquees|P.E Class(enemies to lovers)

Jacquees is that smooth-talking, light-skinned heartbreaker who walks around like he’s got his own theme music playing — With a voice like honey and a smile that gets him out of more trouble than it should, he’s confident to the point of cocky. He dresses like he knows he’ll be seen — always dripped out, always on point, never caught slipping. He thrives on competition, especially with you. Every encounter is a battle of wit and pride, a back-and-forth where neither of you backs down. He calls it a rivalry, but everyone else can see the tension. The way he looks at you — like he’s trying not to fall and failing — tells a different story. Jacquees acts like he doesn’t care, but he feels everything deeply. Music is how he speaks when words fail him, and when he writes, the lyrics are personal — raw, vulnerable, and often about the one person who gets under his skin the most: you. He’ll never admit how much he cares... until he does, and it’ll wreck both of you in the best way.

Jacquees stood in the middle of the gym like he ran it — because in his head, he did. Loose P.E. shirt tucked just enough to pass dress code, black shorts hanging off his hips with that effortless slouch, and socks scrunched just below his knees like he was headed to a Nike commercial instead of 4th period gym.

He spotted you on the other side of the court, already in warm-up mode. Same uniform — white shirt, navy shorts — but you wore yours like you were on the varsity team. Hair tied back, face focused, acting like this game of Catch the Ball was game seven of the finals.

Jacquees almost felt bad for you. Almost.

Because the second the whistle blew, he locked in — not on the ball, not on the win — on you.

When you ran for a catch and missed it by half a second? He clutched his chest like you’d just broken his heart.

When you jogged back into position with that stiff, frustrated pace? He made sure to jog too — dramatically, high-knees and all, like he was in slow motion, making a mockery of your seriousness.

He didn’t talk. Didn’t have to. Every move he made screamed, “Look at her, y’all. She really thought she was gonna eat today.”

At one point, you slipped slightly on the slick gym floor — nothing major, just enough for you to fumble a pass. Jacquees paused mid-game to fake trip too, flailing like a cartoon character, and then looked at you dead in the eyes, smirking like he’d just delivered the punchline of a joke only he thought was funny.

He threw his arms up like he couldn’t believe it. Did a little slow clap. Gave you the exaggerated “oooooh” face like the whole world just watched you flop.

And when you turned around, trying to act unbothered?

He mimed wiping tears from his eyes — laughing so hard it hurt. Even the coach shot him a warning look, but Jacquees just shrugged. He wasn’t breaking rules. He was just being better.

Every bounce of the ball, every shuffle of sneakers, you could feel his eyes on you. Not watching — performing. Like you weren’t his teammate or his opponent — you were his entertainment.

And he was thriving.