Page 12 of Bad Behavior

I know I need to get my mind out of the gutter, but I can’t help it. I smile a little to myself as I text her.

I’m here. Just left work. It’s not too late to study, is it?

A few seconds later, I have my reply.

Nope. Wanna come over here?

I really, really do. But I just text back: Sure. Be there in 5.

I walk to her house, just a handful of blocks from the beach. It’s a ramshackle little house painted baby blue, and barely big enough for two bedrooms. No yard to speak of, just sand surrounded by a white picket fence.

When I approach the house, Emma is sitting on the porch, reading from a huge textbook. Her dark hair is braided around her crown, her long legs looking sunkissed in her little short shorts. She’s wearing an oversized pink shirt and no shoes, and she’s curled up comfortably on a big gray papasan chair.

This is really a terrible idea, a voice says in the back of my head. Just one glance at her, and I am already feeling guilty as fuck. But I shove the voice away and let myself in the squeaky white picket fence’s gate.

Emma looks up and smiles, her blue eyes warm.

“Hey,” she greets me.

“Am I interrupting something?” I ask, nodding to her textbook.

She shuts it, shaking her head. “Not at all. I was looking for any reason whatsoever not to study property law.”

“Mmm,” I say. I look at the empty chair beside hers, stacked with a couple more textbooks. “Can I sit down?”

“Yep.” She pulls everything off of the chair and stacks it neatly on the floor. “Make yourself comfortable. Do you want something to drink?”

I sit down, suddenly a little self conscious. The chair is a plain wooden one, and it’s too small for my big frame. I take my backpack off of my shoulder, putting it on the floor. “Uh… nah.”

“I have wine,” she says, her expression thoughtful. “A couple bottles that Asher brought over here. Pinot noirs, I think.”

“No thanks. I’m still trying to completely get over Friday night’s drinking binge,” I say, pulling a face. “You can drink if you want to, though.”

She waves a hand. “Not necessary. Did you bring your books?”

“Yep.” I unzip my backpack and pull out the science and math GED prep books. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

“Do you have a studying plan? Certain days of the week, you study certain subjects? Or…”

My lost expression is enough to stop her words. I shake my head, out of my depth in this arena. It’s not a comfortable feeling.

“Okay,” she says. “That’s not a big deal. I think it would be best if we set up a studying system, though.”

I incline my head. “If you think so.”

Emma smiles at me. “I think so. Let’s see… how many days do you have available to study, for how long?”

She reaches out and grabs the math book from me, her hand brushing mine. I swallow, trying to remind myself that I’m not a middle schooler, and this isn’t a soap opera. There is no hot-for-tutor thing going on here.

I shift in my seat, willing my body to comply with my brain’s wishes.

“Probably two nights a week, one or two hours?” I answer.

She looks up from my book, biting her lip. “Is there any way you can do three days? And make it two hours? That would really be ideal.”

I hesitate, then shake my head. “I don’t think so. At least on the number of days. I’ve got Cure to run, and I have to surf at least a couple times a week. Otherwise I’ll lose my shit on someone, real quick.”

She looks a little nonplussed, but she shrugs.

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