Page 23 of Bad Behavior

7

Emma

Idrum my fingertips on the cool granite table of the coffee shop I’m in, impatient. Jameson is late, even though we just made these plans to study an hour ago. After his speech at Joe’s Surf the other day, I don’t appreciate it much.

I look down at the textbook I brought, but end up pushing it away across the table. Finals are soon, a fact which is weighing heavily on me. It feels like I’m running out of hours in my day to study. That, or I’m low on actually giving a crap whether I pass my classes or not. I have done everything that I could for a whole semester; now I’ve just sort of run out of steam.

I honestly wonder for a minute whether I could pass without the finals. Of course, just not taking the final exams is kind of a pipe dream, but it is nice to imagine for a little while.

The door chimes, and I look up to find Jameson entering, looking harried. Even though his expression is close to a grimace, the rest of him still looks good. His dark hair looks windswept, and he is almost edible in his dark jeans and short sleeve black Muse tee shirt, muscles bulging and veins popping. He carries his book bag slung over one shoulder.

He could easily be the rebellious bad boy in any TV show or movie. But if he’s the bad boy, what does that make me? The good girl? The ice princess?

I don’t like either option. What if I want to play the rebel, just this once?

Jameson looks around, and I raise my hand to get his attention. “Jameson! Over here.”

He sees me and heads over, weaving his way through the tables scattered throughout the cafe. “I’m late, and I’m sorry. This asshole in a Mercedes tapped my motorcycle on Longview Ave, and then he insisted on waiting for a cop to show up. My phone died too, so I couldn’t call you.”

Jameson drags one of the chairs out, slinging his backpack down on the table. For once, I play it cool, surveying him skeptically.

“It’s fine,” I say, keeping my expression neutral.

He sits down opposite me and gives me a look. “You’re mad.”

I slide my textbook backward, closing it. “I’m not mad, I’m just thinking of the lecture you gave me a few days ago.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve been punished already, I promise. You should have seen how much of a dick the guy that hit me was. He was really pissed when the cops got there and told him it was his fault.”

I roll my eyes. “Okay. Let’s just work. What do you have for math today?”

“Formulas, mostly. The quadratic formula, the formula for a line, and… something with bi? Binomics, or something. I very vaguely understand them.”

“They’re hard,” I say with a shrug. “Like pretty much the hardest part of high school math. What have you got for science?”

“Uhhh…” he unzips his back pack and pulls out his science textbook. He flips to a section that is already well-marked. “It looks like today we’ve got the conservation, transformation, and flow of energy. And also work, motion, and force.”

I look at the time on my phone. “Okay. Let’s divide the time evenly, half an hour for math, half an hour for science. Then we’ll see where we’re at, okay?”

Jameson just nods. “Science first?”

“Yup. Let’s just go through what the book says…”

For the next hour, we take turns reading aloud from J’s textbooks. I stop at various points to explain something, or to sketch a quick drawing of a concept on a blank sheet of paper. For his part, Jameson is nearly mute as I explain, his brow furrowed the whole time.

He does ask for clarification on a few points, taking notes in his notebook. At about an hour, I notice that Jameson is getting anxious and cranky. He’s also starting to stare into space.

“Let’s call it a day,” I suggest, closing his math textbook. “I can see that I’ve exceeded your time limit for learning.”

He sits back, stretching. “Sorry. I just… I guess I’ve never had to sit still for so long for anything.”

I smile, keeping my tone light. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Well, it kind of is. I mean, you’re taking time out of your schedule. So, uh… thanks.” He starts to pack up his stuff. “Are you hungry?”

“Me?” I glance at the time. “I could eat.”

He looks a little uncomfortable, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. “There’s this pizza place around the block from here that I’ve been meaning to try. Wanna come? I’ll buy, obviously.”

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