Page 57 of Bad Behavior

18

Jameson

I’m in my bed, trying to ignore the morning sun as it slants down on me. I have a hell of a hangover from the last three days of hard drinking, and not much else going on in my life.

I have working at Cure. I have surfing. But for the first time, it seems like that’s not enough.

Unfortunately, I have an idea of just what would fill that person-shaped hole in my life. Or who, I should say. The hookups and flings that kept me going in the past do less than nothing for me now. I’ve had multiple chances the last few nights, and yet…

I’m not interested. And I blame most of that part on Emma. Every time I even think about another woman, it’s like… it’s like other women are in black and white. I know Emma exists in full color, and my enjoyment of the black and white women is just… less than it was a couple of months ago.

I throw my arm over my eyes to block out the sun, and curse Emma. If she wasn’t so… pert and bouncy… then maybe I would have a chance of not wanting her again like this.

Foolishly, I thought that having her once would be enough to get her out of my system. The problem is, instead of doing that, I think that fucking her somehow drove her further under my skin.

And of course the fallout from having sex with Emma is on my mind all the time. I swear, if it weren’t for the fact that Asher is such a big part of my life, I would say fuck it. I’d bury myself so deep in Emma, she wouldn’t know what hit her.

The fact that I am the only man she’s ever been with is still astonishing. I don’t know the details, the ins and outs of her life that well, but I like to think that she had plenty of chances with other guys… and she chose me. She waited around for me.

It’s a little mind blowing. That thought makes me oddly proud, at the same time it makes me feel a little ill.

I hear the front door open and close. I’m guessing that’s Asher coming home, since he wasn’t here when I came in drunk last night. He’s obviously getting some action somewhere else, because I haven’t seen him but I did see that he rifled through the drawers in the bathroom. He left the giant box of condoms empty, where before there were probably ten or twelve left.

Sex heals all wounds, I guess. Even if the wound is a horrible ex.

Actually, scratch that. Especially if the wound is a horrible ex.

I smell something. I take my arm off of my eyes, sniffing the air. What is that, coffee?

Rolling out of bed, I pull on a pair of sweatpants and pad out of my bedroom. I go down the hall and emerge into the kitchen, then stop. Emma is there, with her hair thrown up in a bun, hovering over the stove with a spatula in hand.

I scrunch my face. “How did you—”

My voice scares her, makes her turn and jump out of her skin. She puts her hand over her heart and fans herself with the spatula. I notice that she’s wearing a cute little pale pink sundress, the hem of it barely reaching mid thigh. I swallow.

“Good lord, Jameson,” she says. She acts like I’m in her kitchen, which is really confusing. “Do you want some coffee?”

I don’t move except to fold my arms across my chest. “Do I? What are you doing here?”

“Ummm… Asher gave me a key.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal. Turning back to the stove, she starts using the spatula on some hash browns. “I um… I mostly wanted to apologize for being so pushy at the beach the other day. So I figured I would come over, make some breakfast, and help you study for the GED.”

Emma glances back over her shoulder. I’m sort of befuddled, so I head over to the kitchen table, and pull out a seat for myself. Squinting at her, I sigh.

“Your brother wouldn’t like you being here with me.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing that I don’t live to please Asher.” She goes over to the cabinet, and gets down two mugs and a glass. She pours me a glass of water first, coming over to set it down in front of me. “You smell like whiskey still.”

I pick it up, not mentioning to her that she’s been the cause of a lot of my misery for the last three days. This hangover is half her fault. As I down the water, she pours me a black coffee and then sets it in front of me as well.

She goes back to the stove, easing the hash browns onto two plates, and scrambling some eggs. While the eggs are cooking, she prods them gently with the spatula. I drink a little of the coffee, then get up to refill the water glass.

It’s awkwardly silent in the kitchen, mostly just me staring at her ass and her sun kissed legs. I down three more glasses of water, and half the coffee. I don’t want to admit it, but the water has already taken the edge off of my hangover.

She opens a plastic container of strawberries, cutting off the tops with a knife.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I say.

She just smiles at me over her shoulder, so I get up and head down the hallway to the bathroom. After a quick piss, I take a few aspirin and brush my teeth. I glance in the mirror and try to smooth down my hair a little bit.

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