by Jessa James
“Fine,” I say, trying not to snap at him. I nod toward the books. “What are we studying today?”
His brow hunches.
“Same as before. I thought we could start with math, and then do science.”
“Right. Uh… I guess let me come over to your side of the table,” he says. Sliding his books over, he takes his time to settle into the chair on my left. He moves his coffee over, and then opens his math textbook.
It’s cold enough in this coffee shop that I can actually feel the heat radiating off of his big body. I bite my lower lip, rebuking myself for being so weak when it comes to him.
“So, I left off here, with differential equations…” he says, pointing to the section in the book. “But I wasn’t sure about how they worked. Like, I can look at the examples all day long, but when a problem is in front of me, my mind goes blank.”
“Ahhh.” I nod, toying with my mug. “I think you need to see it in action. Do you have some paper?”
“Sure, yeah.” He grabs a few sheets of blank paper out of his backpack, along with a pen. He slides them in front of me. “Here.”
He cracks his knuckles. I swallow, trying not to listen to the voice inside my head that remembers all too well what those hands can do. How much pleasure they can wring out of my body, for hours on end.
“Okay… let’s see… first you need to find the integer…” I say. I guide him through the process, doing several different problems.
Jameson hunches over the table, watching me work. He’s making me nervous, but I refuse to let it show. I just don’t look him in the eye, focusing instead on the paper and pen.
He asks a couple of questions, stopping me with a hand on my forearm. His warm fingers touch the bare skin of my wrist the second time, and my pulse jumps like a scared rabbit.
He glances at me, but I just move my arm away, clear my throat, and continue.
“I think I get it. Or at least, I understand enough to take the GED,” he says.
I glance up at him, meeting his warm chocolate gaze. For the barest second, I am lost in his eyes, falling deep into them. He doesn’t break the connection, either.
He just stares at me for a few seconds. I can tell there is something that he wants to say, but he doesn’t say anything. And I’m too much of a chicken to ask him what he’s thinking.
I avert my gaze. “Umm, do you think we should study science now?”
Clearing his throat, he nods. “Yeah. Uh… yeah. I’m studying physical science now, figuring out velocity and speed. It’s… challenging.”
“Great,” I say, with forced cheer. Inside, I’m thinking that I wish I hadn’t agreed to even come here. But I don’t want him to know that. “Velocity it is!”
Jameson slides me a suspicious look as he gets out his science textbook. He opens it, but splays his hand over the page.
“Are you okay?”
His black-brown eyes search my face.
“Always,” I counter, tapping the textbook to draw his attention back there. “Come on, let’s study the basics of physics.”
I brush his hand out of the way and begin reading. He eventually switches his focus to what we’re reading. I stop several times, expelling the dynamics of what we are talking about more in depth. He listens and nods, asking a question here and there.
We go through the important bits of velocity and speed, and then I walk him through some of the mathematical equations that the book offers. I have him do a few sample problems.
At one point, when he’s bent over the paper and scrawling out his answer, I sigh. It is a sort of longing sound, totally accidental and not really provoked by any one particular thing.
It’s just Jameson, as a whole. Watching him do anything is pretty pleasurable, but watching him learn something new? Something that I can help him with?
It’s almost swoon-worthy. So I sigh.
He looks up at me, and I turn pink. Busted.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I respond, shaking my head. “Nothing, go on.”
“You’re being weird,” he says.
“No, I’m not.” I take a sip of my latte, as if that will save me from my own awkwardness.
“You are!” he insists. He puts the pen down. “Why are you being weird?”
“Jameson—” I start, annoyed that we’re even having this conversation.
He gives me a hard look. I squirm a little bit in my chair. He drops his voice.
“You know, just because we’re not fucking each other anymore, that doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me. I’m still the same person.”
My face turns scarlet in an instant. “Jameson, you just… you are not following the proper breakup protocol in the least.”
His eyebrows rise. “There is a protocol?”
I scowl. “Yes! And you are just like… walking all over it, like it’s not even a thing. But trust me, it exists for a reason.”
“The protocol?”
“Yes!”
There is a second where he pauses. I can see him doing some kind of calculation, and coming up frustratingly short.
“I guess I don’t know what the rules are, when you’re… you know, not seeing each other any more,” he admits.
“Well, that’s obvious.” I feel like a grouch when I say it, but it’s true.
“What is it that you want me to do, then?”
He looks at me, his face as serious as death. I deflate like a balloon under his gaze.
“I don’t know. I mean…” I look down at my hands. “It just feels like… like nothing has changed.”
My eyes mist over unexpectedly, and I’m beyond embarrassed.
“That’s a good thing, right?” he asks.
“No!” I cry, louder than I intend. The barista looks over at me, and I cringe. But even so, I can’t stop myself from talking. “You don’t understand, Jameson. You— you broke my heart!”
He freezes in place, his face shocked. “I— I mean, I didn’t mean to, Emma. I swear.”
He reaches out to touch my hand, and I yank my hand off the table. Standing up, angry and hurt, I start to leave.
“Whoa, whoa, Emma,” Jameson says, jumping up and blocking my exit with his big body. “Just wait a second.”
My eyes are brimming with unshed tears. My voice is barely above a whisper. “Let me go.”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I really am. Everything was my fault, okay?”
“It’s not okay! I’m here, even though I don’t want to be, doing you a favor. And you’re invading my space and blocking me from leaving…”
One tear breaks free, snaking its way down my cheek unchecked. His expression is anguished.
“Don’t cry. Please don’t,” he pleads with me. “I’ll try to follow the rules, okay? Anything you say, I’ll do.”
I brush the tear from my cheek, taking a deep breath. His guilty expression twists at my heart. Now I feel bad for making him feel bad.
“Let me think about it. I… I want to tutor you, like it was before, but…” I shake my head, looking down. “I’m still hurting.”
“I’ll give you time, if that’s what you need,” he says. “Just… please don’t say you can’t see me anymore, socially.”
I look up at him. “I said I’ll think about it. That’s all I can give you right now.”
He sighs and shrugs a shoulder. “That’s all I can ask, then.”
He moves back, letting me go. I get out of there as quickly as possible, practically running past the barista and out the front door. I don’t slow down until I get to my car.
I slide behind the wheel, my heart pounding.
I don’t know if I can see him again.
But at the same time, how can I refuse?
I throw my car into drive and pull out, tires squealing.
5
Jameson
I climb out of my Jeep at the diner that my brother Forest suggested. Shading my eyes against the midday sun, I wish that I hadn’t had that last dr
ink the night before. I’m definitely hungover.
I adjust my Ray-Ban sunglasses and head into the diner. The place is a little greasy spoon that Forest loves, painted bright orange inside and out. We eat here from time to time, but the owner always remembers us.
“Jameson!” she howls when I step inside. She’s manning the grill, wearing her usual all-black outfit, and grinning ear to ear.
“Hey there Ms. Parker,” I say with a nod.
I’m not even concerned about the fact that she got my name a little bit wrong. The fact is, she remembers almost everybody that comes in here, and that’s pretty fucking impressive.
Ms. Parker points to the booth in the far corner, where Forest is already sitting. I give her a wave and head over there, sliding into there booth opposite my brother.
“Yo,” I greet him. “What’s up?”
Forest sips his coffee, then makes a contented sound. “Not much.”
The waitress comes over, and I order a coffee and their crawfish etouffee omelet. Forest orders french fries and scrambled eggs.
As I add some sugar to my black coffee, I study my brother. He has been to the barber recently, because his hair is cropped very close to his scalp. Always way more preppy than I’ve ever been, even today on his day off he has shaved.
“How are my investments doing, oh magical money maker?” I kid.
He considers that for a second. “Good. Actually, that’s part of what I want to talk to you about.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask. I sip my coffee. It’s thick and black, just the way I like it.
“Yeah. You know how the apartment you and Asher live in is a duplex?”
“Mmm, I think the other side is full of… I don’t know, the owner’s stuff.” The owner is an older man in his seventies, and he doesn’t come around much these days.
“Well, Asher put out a feeler, just to see if the owner would be interested in selling him the place.”
“Really?” I’m a little surprised that Asher didn’t tell me about it, being that I’m supposedly his roommate and best friend.
“Yep. He just heard back, and the landlord is more than happy to get it off his hands.”
“Huh.” I consider that.
“My point in telling you this is that I think you and Asher should go in on the house together. Then you can each live in one half, or rent it out, or whatever you want to do. The place is a steal, only like $200,000. Split two ways, that’s really really reasonable.”
“Huh,” I say again. I drum my fingertips on the laminate countertop. “Can I afford that?”
“Easily. And it will build equity for you too. I think it’s a really solid idea.”
“Cool,” I say with a shrug. “Yeah, why not?”
“Well, I just want to make sure that there’s nothing weird between you guys before I bring the idea up to him. I mean, it’s almost a no-brainer for you.”
I give him a slow nod, thinking about Emma. She would definitely qualify as ‘something weird” between me and Asher, but Asher doesn’t know about it. I broke it off because of Asher, because of how he would act if he ever found out.
I sigh. “Yeah, there is nothing weird between us.”
At least not anymore.
“Well, I figure that you’ll eventually settle on one girl. And rumor has it, girls don’t love their men to have roommates, even if they’re as close as you guys are.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Is that a statement about your personal life?”
Forest scowls. “No.”
“Are you sure? Because I could see Addison giving you all kinds of shit over the fact that you still live with Gunnar. I imagine a girl like Addison, who’s obviously from money, doesn’t love your current living arrangements.”
There are a few seconds of silence, when Forest looks at his coffee cup. I was mostly kidding, but clearly I’ve accidentally touched a nerve.
“I don’t like your lack of response. What’s up with you? Are things okay with you and Addison?” I ask after a minute.
Forest looks up at me, a note of pain shining in his eyes. “It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit. What’s going on?”
Forest opens his mouth, but the waitress arrives with our plates just then. She sets down my omelet and Forest’s eggs and fries, then refills our coffee.
“Do you guys need anything else?” she asks.
“No thanks,” I say, trying not to let my impatience show. As soon as she’s gone, I turn my attention back to Forest. “Spill.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m sure it’s not even a thing.”
I pick up my fork, intending to dig into my still-steaming omelet. “It’s enough of a thing to worry you, obviously.”
I take a bite of my food, burning my mouth a little. It’s so good, though. I reach for the hot sauce, to slather on my food indiscriminately.
“Okay, okay. Addy’s parents… they are not normal people. You know that they’re super rich, houses in Beverly Hills and Aspen, all that jazz. They’re super wealthy and connected.”
I raise a brow. “I don’t know them, but I definitely get a little rich girl vibe from Addison.”
“Well, they definitely don’t like me. I found out this week that Mr. Montgomery only said yes when I asked for his blessing because Addy threatened him.”
I pause with a forkful of food in front of my face.
“Wait, why don’t they like you?” I’m a little baffled by this.
“As it turns out, Addy apparently told them that I’m not from the best circumstances, family wise. In the year we were dating, before I met them, she told them all about my tragic past, I guess. She’s so fucking melodramatic.”
He punctuates that statement by shoving several french fries into his mouth. I frown at him.
“Well that’s shitty. What are you supposed to do about it?”
He shakes his head. “I mean, there’s nothing I can do about it, I don’t think. And every time I talk about the wedding now, Addy gives me this look. Like… if I were a paranoid guy, I would say it’s a knowing look. She has something planned, or something she isn’t telling me.”
I pause. “Like what?”
“I don’t know, man. I just get some really negative energy, flowing from her to me.”
“You think she’s going to call off the wedding?”
He takes a second to eat some of his eggs, thinking that over. “I don’t know. It’s just bugging me. Like an itch that I can’t scratch, that won’t go away.”
I nod, finishing my last bite of food. I sip my coffee, thinking it over. “What are you going to do about it?”
Forest shrugs. “Probably nothing. I’ve asked her about it, a few times. She says nothing is wrong.”
“Well, I am maybe not the best source of advice on this. Everyone knows that I’m fucking dumb—”
“Don’t say that,” he says with a frown.
“Seriously? Anyway—”
“I’m dead serious. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”
“Anyway,” I say, deliberately talking over him. “If something feels off, it probably is. I don’t think it’s weird that you’re worried about it.”
He sighs, pushing his plate away. “Thanks, dude. It is kind of nice, knowing that you think so too.”
That wasn’t what I said, exactly, but I let it go. I finish my quickly cooling cup of coffee, and the waitress comes by with a coffee pot for a refill.
“So… since this has turned into brotherly bonding time…” Forest says.
I look up at him, curious. “Yeah?”
“Are you gonna tell me who the girl is that dumped you?”
I glower at him. “Who says there’s a girl?”
“I’ve been watching you at work lately. You’re all distracted, and you’re in a bad mood half the time. That’s after like a straight month of easy, breezy especially carefree Jameson. I would have to be blind not to notice that something was up.”
“Girls come and go,” I hedge. “You k
now that.”
“I’m just saying, since you were all blissed out for a while there, maybe she turned your head the right way. You should consider the power that begging has in any situation.”
He sips his coffee. I wad up a paper napkin and throw it at him.
“That’s for assuming that it was my fault,” I intone.
“Ah! So there was a girl. I knew it!” He grins. “Was it someone I know?”
“Like I’m going to tell you.”
He squints at me for a long second. “It’s not Maia, is it?”
“What? No. You and Gunnar are so damn obsessed with her, it’s not even funny.”
“She’s hot!” he says defensively.
“All right, Mr. Is My Fiancée Cheating On Me.”
He glares at me. “Don’t turn this around on me. We’re talking about you.”
“Are we talking about why you assume that she dumped me? Because I want you to know, I was the one who did the breaking up.”
“Yeah, normally I would believe that, but you were so happy when you were with the mystery girl. So if you did do the breaking up, it was because you had to. Like, you were forced to do it.”
I look down at my coffee mug. He hit way too close to home. “Maybe I just didn’t like her that much.”
“To quote you, bullshit. I’m looking at you right now, and you can’t even look at me when you say that.”
I give him my surliest look. “So what?”
“So what? So I’m saying, if you’re really so hung up on this girl, apologize for whatever you did.” I start to argue, but he puts a hand up, stopping me. “Don’t even bother trying to tell me that you didn’t do something worth apologizing over. I’ve been watching a lot of The Bachelorette, because that’s Addy’s favorite TV show. The guy is always the one that is in the wrong. Every single time.”
“You’re so full of shit,” I say, reaching for my wallet. I pull out two twenties, dropping them on the table. “Excuse me for not taking advice from you, okay? I still remember when you were thirteen and you kept getting in trouble for drawing naked women in the bathrooms at school, okay? I think I’m good on advice from you.”
Forest rolls his eyes. “It’s been literally eighteen years since that happened. Are you ever going to let that go?”