Page 73 of Bad Behavior

23

Jameson

I’m sitting on my couch, with the television on but muted. I glance at my phone, and find that it’s about six in the evening. I left Emma at her house this morning, with the understanding that she would shower and then meet me here.

I actually have a real date planned for us, at a fancy restaurant and everything. I planned something kinky and fantastic for us later tonight, complete with a small army of newly purchased sex toys and restraints awaiting us in my bedroom.

Now, though, I am starting to wonder where she is. And that in itself bothers me… when did I start giving a fuck where any girl was?

That’s the problem. Emma isn’t just any girl. She’s wrapped herself around me, and grown inside me like a weed. Anytime I think about it too much, my heart does this squeezing thing, a feeling that is more than a little bit uncomfortable for me.

Coupled with my thoughts when I was on the beach yesterday, I genuinely have something to worry about when it comes to Emma. She’s starting to be a real problem for me.

But she’s a problem that I don’t want to quit, which makes her doubly frustrating.

As long as I don’t let the word L-O-V-E crash into my thoughts again, though, I should be fine. For a while, at least.

When I hear the front door handle jiggle, I’m relieved. It’s not that I thought that anything happened to Emma, so much as it is the fact that I’m just vaguely stressed out when she’s not in front of me, where I can see her.

I get up and head for the front door, thinking that maybe she’s locked out. When I get a few steps from the front door though, the door bangs open to reveal a very, very drunken Asher.

He squints at me. I recoil, expecting him to yell at me again like he did yesterday. But he just trips over his own feet, falling. I step in and catch him, frowning.

He’s like about as helpful as a dead fish, snickering like a fool. “I’m drunkkkkk.”

“Whoa, whoa,” I say, staggering under his unexpected weight. It takes me a minute to help him regain his footing. “You are wasted.”

He stands up, wobbling his way to the living room. I close the front door, and then head in there too, where I see he has made himself comfortable by sprawling out on the couch.

I walk up behind the couch and cast an eye over him. His eyes are closed, an arm thrown over his face. He could be passed out for all I know.

“Are you okay?” I ask, clearing my throat.

“I have to tell you something,” he says, not moving an inch. His words are very slurred.

“Is it why you’re so loaded right now?” Asher normally isn’t a big drinker. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen him this drunk.

“Mmm. Nope,” he says, shaking his head under his arm. “Nuh uh. It’s about me and Evie.”

I still. “I’m sorry?”

“She’s a bitch, you know that?”

I’m very confused. “Evie that works at Cure?”

Asher takes his arm off his eyes. “Obv- obvious—”

Then he hiccups. I try to put two and two together, but I’m lost.

“Why is she a bitch, exactly?”

He sighs, sinking down into the couch further. “Exactly. She dumped—” He stops, then hiccups again. “She dumped me. Me, Jameson. It’s like…”

He makes a frustrated sound. “Who does she think she is, some like… some big time person? Psssh.”

“Uhhh…” I didn’t even know that they were dating, to be honest. “I don’t know.”

“That kid is gonna look just like me,” he says. “You’ll see.”

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