Page 32 of Bad Reputation

“I’m sorry,” I say, uncapping the vinegar. “This is probably going to sting a little bit at first.”

Emma nods her head, biting her lip. Tears roll down her face as I pour the vinegar on her sting. She winces, but doesn’t react otherwise.

After about half a minute, she lets out a big breath. “It’s not as bad anymore. Omigod, it was so bad.”

I rub her leg for a second. “I bet.”

She looks up, wiping away the remnants of her tears. Our gazes connect, and for the longest moment, I’m a little lost in the green mystery of her eyes.

After a minute, she glances down. “I don’t think I’m surfing today, Jameson.”

“Nope. We’ll try again, though.” I smile encouragingly at her.

Her lips lift in the ghost of a smile. “Okay. Sounds good.”

I lift her foot off of my lap and start to get our stuff together.

12

Jameson

Istretch, checking my phone. It’s almost five and I’m sitting on a couch in a coffee shop, waiting for Emma to turn up. She’s only about ten minutes late, which is par for the course with her. I glance around at the shop, which is mostly empty.

“Sir?” a young woman asks, catching me by surprise. She’s the same woman that made my latte when I first got here, over an hour ago. “We’re actually going to close a little early, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, yeah.” I get up, grabbing my backpack and my empty latte cup.

“I’ll take that,” she says, whisking the cup out of my hands. “Have a nice day!”

I nod, heading out of the shop. I have to give it to the barista, I’ve never been told to fuck off in such a nice way before.

As I step outside into the breezy summer afternoon, Emma comes rushing up to me. She is wearing a slinky little white sundress, baring a good amount of cleavage and leg, which to me makes up for her lateness.

“Sorry I’m late!!” she apologizes. “I swear, I left my house at a reasonable time…”

“It doesn’t really matter. The coffee shop is closing early, so we’re free agents now.”

“Really?” Emma peers in the coffee shop’s window, as if I might be wrong.

I shade my eyes. “Yeah. Listen, I’m starving. Are you hungry enough to eat?”

“Uhhh…” She seems indecisive. “Aren’t we going to study?”

“Totally. I just thought since we are right here, we might as well go to Casa Carne, because it’s just across the street. They have the best fucking tacos, I swear.”

She flips back her long dark hair. “Yeah, I guess that’s okay.”

“Come on. I feel like you probably haven’t even had any real food today.” I look both ways before I start to cross the street. “Right?”

She goes pink, rushing to follow me. “Maybe.”

Once we’re across the street, I slow down, out of respect for the fact that she is so much shorter than me. I look for the festive red green and white flag, which is the only thing that denotes that the taco truck even exists.

“Is this it?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.

“Don’t make that face,” I tell her, sidling up to the cart’s open window.

“The menu is all in Spanish!” she protests.

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