Page 9 of Bad Behavior

I get there just as Jameson is unlocking the doors. He looks as mouthwatering as ever, wearing a deep navy v-neck, a dark pair of jeans, and his black Converse. He’s also carrying a black back pack, which gives me pause. I don’t think I’ve seen him with one since we were kids.

Even though I saw him literally hours ago, I salivate a little bit and my pulse speeds up. He turns and sees me as he’s shouldering the door open.

“Hey,” he says. I shiver and blush as I feel his eyes on my chest, my bare legs. “Long time no see.”

“Ha,” I say. I wish I had something more, but I don’t.

To my surprise, he holds the door open for me. I step inside into the darkened bar, brushing past him.

“Help me get the blinds open, will you?”

Jameson is all business right now, his mind obviously making a list of things that need doing. I’m not an actual owner per se, but being Asher’s sister, I get free drinks and food in exchange for occasional help.

I set my heavy satchel on the bar, then get busy opening the blinds, letting the afternoon sunlight pour in. Jameson disappears into the back, probably counting money or something. When I’m done, I go to the iPad they use as a register and put some Sade on the stereo.

As the sultry music begins to fill the bar, I plop myself down at the bar. Jameson’s backpack is right there, and it’s open a little. Biting my lip, I look up and make sure that he isn’t about to come back.

Then I hook a finger on the gaping zipper, glancing inside. On top of everything else, there is a book. The last book I would ever expect Jameson to be carrying around, honestly.

It’s a GED Math textbook. I push it aside with a finger, and see that he’s also carrying around science and social studies.

I know that Jameson quit school young. When his grandmother died, he left the ninth grade to work and take care of his younger brothers. I didn’t realize that he even cared about not having a diploma, or that he was studying for the GED.

“Hey, do you—”

I look up, startled and guilty, as Jameson comes out of the back room. I snatch my hand back, but it’s too late to be subtle all the sudden. He sees what I’m looking at and turns a little red.

Oh my god, this might be the first time I’ve ever seen him blush. I didn’t even know that embarrassment was even possible for him until now. He’s always so self-assured and confident.

Cocky, at times. To find out that my perception of him is skewed… it’s a jolt.

“Sorry!” I blurt out. “I’m just… nosy. And curious.”

He comes over the the bar and grabs his backpack. “It’s nothing. Just something I’m thinking about.”

“It’s not nothing,” I say.

Instantly, I know I’ve said the wrong thing, because his expression grows guarded.

“Not everyone has a rich family that can put them through law school,” Jameson growls, heading toward the back room.

“Oh, Jameson—” I say, but he vanishes from sight. I push myself to my feet, hurrying around the bar. When I get into the office, I find him counting the drawer for the cash register.

I wait until he is done, leaning up against the wall. He keeps glancing at me, aware of my presence, but he doesn’t stop what he’s doing.

When he’s counted the last bill, I take a deep breath.

“That came out wrong,” I say. “What I meant was, I think that if you’re interested in taking the GED, you should.”

“Thanks for your permission,” he says flatly. But at least he’s not growling at me anymore. He moves past me, back out front, and I follow.

“I just never realized you were interested in it. Honestly, between surfing and working here, I kind of figured you had moved on.”

Jameson doesn’t respond. I’m worried that I’m digging myself deeper and deeper into a hole. What can I say that will make this better? He starts pulling fruit out of the lowboy coolers, lemons and limes and oranges.

“Hey,” I say, drawing at straws. “How much do you know about algebra?”

He glances up at me, grabbing a cutting board. “Not a whole lot, as you can imagine.”

---