Bad Reputation

by Jessa James

  Bad Reputation

  Jessa James

  Bad Reputation: Copyright © 2020 by Jessa James

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electrical, digital or mechanical including but not limited to photocopying, recording, scanning or by any type of data storage and retrieval system without express, written permission from the author.

  Published by Jessa James

  James, Jessa

  Bad Reputation

  Cover design copyright 2020 by Jessa James, Author

  Images/Photo Credit: Design Credit: BookCoverForYou

  Publisher’s Note:

  This book was written for an adult audience. The book may contain explicit sexual content. Sexual activities included in this book are strictly fantasies intended for adults and any activities or risks taken by fictional characters within the story are neither endorsed nor encouraged by the author or publisher.

  This book has been previously published.

  Contents

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  1. Emma

  2. Emma

  3. Jameson

  4. Emma

  5. Jameson

  6. Emma

  7. Emma

  8. Jameson

  9. Emma

  10. Emma

  11. Jameson

  12. Jameson

  13. Emma

  14. Jameson

  15. Emma

  16. Jameson

  17. Emma

  18. Jameson

  19. Emma

  20. Jameson

  21. Emma

  22. Jameson

  23. Jameson

  24. Emma

  25. Emma

  26. Emma

  27. Jameson

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  Also by Jessa James

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  1

  Emma

  Jameson

  We fuck until dawn. Jameson seems unusually demanding and possessive, driving both of us to the very edge of sanity. And I am so happy to be with him, to kiss him and hold him… even to be brutalized and punished by him…

  I love it. I can’t get enough of Jameson, it seems.

  Afterwards, exhausted and sleep deprived, I fall asleep in Jameson’s arms. I sleep fitfully, tossing and turning. Even in sleep, I know something is wrong. I just can’t figure out for the life of me what it is.

  As the first fingers of morning creep into through the window, I slip out of bed. Padding down the hall to the bathroom, I sit down and pee. I look over at the little pink plastic chest of drawers that Evie insisted upon when we first moved in.

  “It’s to keep our necessities in,” she said. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “You know, our lady time necessities.”

  I smile at that. She apparently thinks that we need to hide our tampons and pads, in our own bathroom. I get up, going to wash my hands. I turn on the water, run my hands underneath, and then stop.

  Turning a little to look over my shoulder, I eye the chest of drawers. It’s been a while since I have needed to use anything from inside the chest. How long has it been?

  I turn off the tap, wiping my hands on a towel. Doing some math in my head, I realize that it’s been… almost seven weeks since my last period. And I’ve been sleeping with Jameson for… almost a month…

  “Shit.” I glance at myself in the mirror. “There’s no way that… you’re definitely not…”

  I do the math again, then bite my lip. It could be the stress from finals. Or it could be some kind of secret stress from the pressure not to let Asher know about my relationship with his best friend. That could play a role, definitely.

  It could also be nothing.

  I open the drawers, digging around, hoping to find a pregnancy test. Of course there are none; both of the women in this house are on birth control, as far as I know.

  I bite my lip. I’m probably freaking out over nothing.

  Still… I will feel so much better if I take a test, just to be sure. Slipping out of the bathroom, I decide to get to the pharmacy as soon as possible. Better to just put a thought like that to bed, right away.

  Once I reach the bedroom though, I know that something is up with Jameson. He’s sitting on the side of the bed, totally dressed, his head hanging low. When he looks at me, his expression is tormented.

  I close the door behind myself. “Jameson, what’s wrong?”

  He takes a breath. “I don’t want to see you any more, Emma. Or… I don’t know. I can’t.”

  My brows shoot up. “What? What are you talking about?”

  He stands up, pacing a little in the narrow space beside the bed.

  “I talked to Asher yesterday.”

  I’m taken aback. “I thought he wasn’t talking to you still.”

  “Well, he changed his mind.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “That’s nice, but it has nothing to do with us.”

  Jameson looks at me, his eyes dark. “It was never supposed to turn into this… this… whatever it is, that’s between us. It wasn’t even supposed to happen at all.”

  I glare at him. “And yet, it did. Here you are, in my bedroom.”

  He runs his hands over his face for a second, clearly frustrated.

  “I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

  “But you did.”

  “And I’m trying to undo it!” he shouts. “I’m trying to save us, Emma. Jesus fucking christ, can’t you see that?”

  “I’m sorry, did you say you were trying to save us?” I snarl. “As in, you are trying to save us both? Save us from what?”

  “Emma…” he says, clenching his jaw. “We have nothing in common. We’re not even remotely connected, except through my best friend. And yesterday he reminded me—”

  “Reminded you??!”

  “Yes! He reminded me of the fact that he’s been there for me when nobody else even gave a damn if I lived or died! He helped me when there was no one else. I… I owe him, big time.”

  “That doesn’t mean that you owe him your life!” I snap, growing frazzled. “When will you have paid your debt, Jameson? Huh? Five more years? Ten more? Tell me, what is the plan, exactly?”

  I see a flash of pain in his eyes. “There is almost nothing I wouldn’t give up if he asked me to.”

  “I’m one of those things, then? You can just… just decide to stop being in a relationship—”

  “We were never in a relationship!!” he hisses. “At best, we had a fling. And now, it’s over.”

  My eyes fill with tears. He means it. This isn’t just another we really shouldn’t moment.

  “You want out?” I say, controlling my voice to keep from screaming at him. “There’s the door. No one is stopping you.”

  His expression hardens. “It’s better this way.”

  “Fuck you,” I whisper, looking away as tears start to spill down my cheeks, hot and wet. I wipe them away with the back of my hand. “I mean it. Go straight to hell, Jameson Hart.”

  He hesitates for a few moments, then shakes his head. “It’s better if I do it this way than—”

  “Get. Out!” I scream at him. “No more explaining! Just go!”

  He rips the door of my room open, the expression on his face grimmer than any I’ve ever seen.

  And I’m left in my bedroom, alone, sobbing over him.

  What am I going to do?

  2

  Emma

  I curl into a ball on my bed, among the messy she
ets, and bawl like a baby. Not pretty crying, although I’m not sure there is even such a thing. No, I cry ugly tears, my face red and puffy, with snot running everywhere. I’m not quiet about it either. I sob into one of my pillows and make great big gasping sounds.

  I’m feeling bereft. I keep replaying what Jameson said to me, standing here in the doorway.

  “We were never in a relationship!! At best, we had a fling. And now, it’s over.”

  That hurts more than anything else he could have said. Because he’s right about one thing… we never defined the thing between us, never gave it a name. Clearly what I thought was so amazing and earth shattering, Jameson thought was nothing more than a fling.

  Maybe Asher is right. Maybe Jameson really is bad news, running through women like a hot knife through butter.

  It definitely didn’t feel that way when I looked into Jameson’s eyes, but… I’m starting to question every single moment we were together, every impulse and thought that I had.

  I think about Asher again, about his stupid rule and his weird hold on Jameson. Obviously I have missed something in their history together, because Jameson is so devoted to Asher… and Asher seems not to notice.

  My tears dry up, until I remember that my period is late. Somehow, in all the breaking up madness, I’ve managed to completely dismiss the most important fact of all.

  I could be pregnant with Jameson’s child.

  The potential ramifications of that fact echo through my brain. I can’t even begin to cope with that. The uncertainty is killing me.

  So I drag myself out of bed, putting on a pair of dark yoga pants and a billowy tee shirt that says GUCCI. I am sure that my face still looks puffy, and my outfit is thrown together from the bottom of my closet…

  But at least I’m not crying right now, in this moment. After slipping on a pair of dark blue Converse, I open the door to my bedroom.

  I surprise Evie, who is in front of my bedroom door, about to knock. She’s dressed in a pair of jeans and a baggy Hilary 2016 hoodie.

  “Hey…” she says, her brown eyes wide. “I thought I heard you crying. You seem… maybe not okay?”

  I glance down at myself, and my chin starts to wobble again. My eyes well up instantly, and I shake my head.

  “I got dumped… and I might be pregnant,” I say, my words tremulous as my face collapses in tears.

  “Whoa, whoa,” Evie says, her brow furrowing. She pulls me into her arms, hugging me tightly. “That’s… a lot. Here, come with me into the kitchen.”

  I let Evie guide me down the hallway, into the tiny kitchen. She sits me down in one of the chairs at the table, and hands me a clean dish towel. I wipe at my face with it, feeling stupid.

  “I’ll make us some herbal tea,” she says. “And you can start telling me what happened.”

  She goes to fill the kettle up. I am sitting in one of our hard-backed kitchen chairs, trying to control my crying. Evie doesn’t press me further. She just reaches in the cupboards for two mugs and the box of tea bags, going about it as though I wasn’t even present.

  For some reason, that calms me down a little. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing for a few minutes. The kettle whistles, the noise brash and loud. When I open my eyes again, Evie is pouring boiling water into two mugs.

  “Here, it’s a citrus chamomile blend,” Evie says, depositing a mug before me. “It’s really comforting, I think. I’ve been going through sachet after sachet the last few weeks.”

  I curl my hands around the mug, feeling the warmth of its contents. I peer inside, and see a yellowish curl blossoming at the bottom of the cup. I squint. I’m trying to piece together something that Evie has just said, about using a lot of sachets and comfort…

  “So… you want to tell me more about the breakup? Or would you rather start with the pregnancy?” Evie says, cool as a cucumber. She looks off into the distance for a moment. “Wait, let’s just start with the breakup first.”

  I blink at her, but she just blows on her mug of tea. “Umm… okay…”

  She studies me, her eyes warm. “I’m guessing that it was with Jameson?”

  I wipe a tear from the corner of one eye, nodding. “Yeah.”

  “That figures. He’s a rat bastard, for what it’s worth.”

  That draws a strange noise from me, something like a mix between a chuckle and a grunt.

  Evie takes a moment to dunk her tea bag a few times, then takes a sip. “Mmm. Alright, so. How long have you guys been hooking up?”

  I clear my throat, twisting the tea bag’s string around. “About two months. Maybe a little more.”

  “And was it serious? I mean, of course it was serious, because look at you. But like… did you guys… use boyfriend and girlfriend, or like… say I love you?”

  I shake my head, unable to look up from the table. “No.”

  She wrinkles up her face, thinking. “But you felt deeply, I am guessing.”

  “Yeah. I mean, I definitely felt like…” I pause, gathering my thoughts. “I felt like I’d found that one person who just… gets it. Or gets me? I don’t know. Maybe everyone that you have sex with is supposed to be like that, but—”

  “Wait, you gave him your virginity?” Evie asks. Her brows shoot up. “Damn, girl.”

  I take a minute with that, sipping my tea. It is sort of comforting, the citrus flavor and herbal scent.

  “I’ve been in love with Jameson for years,” I finally admit. It’s kind of a relief, saying it out loud to someone. “Like, ever since I was old enough to have dirty dreams. I kind of always thought, in the back of my head, that we would get together. I planned to give him my v-card since I was fifteen, before I even knew what that really entailed.”

  Evie’s eyes go so wide, it’s almost comical. “Wait, you were like… saving yourself for Jameson?”

  I shrug, blushing. “Yeah, I was. I mean, it wasn’t intentional for the last couple of years. But when I started to get ‘I’m attracted to you’ signals off of him, I sort of… I really, really wanted to make it happen.”

  “Girllllll,” she says, excited. “I can’t believe you’ve had a thing for him for so long! And I can’t believe I didn’t know about it.”

  I bite my lip and shrug a shoulder. “Doesn’t matter, because of Asher.”

  She sits up a little straighter. “Asher? What does he have to do with anything?”

  “Asher made up this stupid rule ages ago. He told Jameson and Forest and Gunnar not to sleep with me. Actually, he’s told Gunnar several times to back off, because Gunnar is…” I search for the right word.

  “A slut?” Evie’s mouth curls upward.

  “Yeah. Anyway, that rule has existed since I got boobs, I think. Because clearly I can’t make my own decisions about who I sleep with. If it wasn’t for the rule, I would just fall into bed with every guy I see!” I say sarcastically. “Meanwhile, Asher has no rules about who he can sleep with or date.”

  Evie looks down at the table, tracing something absentmindedly. “That doesn’t sound fair.”

  “Thank you! It isn’t.” I sit back, trying to reach for my righteous indignation, but it’s not there. I’m too busy being sad for any other emotions to register.

  “So… are you ready to talk about the other thing yet?” she says gently.

  My heart starts hammering just thinking about it. I give her a slow nod. “Yeah, I think so. I just… I’m on an IUD.”

  She cocks her head. “And yet you think you might be pregnant?”

  My eyes fill with tears again. I feel pathetic. “Yes.”

  Evie considers me for a minute. “I’m assuming that you don’t have happy feelings about that.”

  I take a sip of my tea, to keep myself calm. Then I take a breath. “I mean, I am very conflicted about it. On one hand, the fifteen year old version of myself is like… squealing with excitement. I’ve loved this guy for half my life, and now I’m going to have his baby? Like… I couldn’t have imagined a better outcome, in the most selfis
h way.”

  She purses her lips. “And on the other hand?”

  “Well, the downsides are twofold. First, I doubt that fifteen year old girl would be particularly happy that Jameson dumped me. And second, I’m in frigging law school! During the year, I study and go to school, from the time I wake up to the time I go to sleep. That’s it. I don’t have time for anything else. Adding a baby to that is like… a recipe for disaster.”

  “Definitely. I mean, you could handle it, but you wouldn’t want to.”

  “Exactly. But… there is still a part of me that is like, going baby crazy. I’m imagining how amazing our child would be. Like have you ever seen baby shoes? Because they are so freaking cute. And I can see us when she’s a little older. Me, dressing her up for her first ballet recital…”

  I let the conversation lapse for a minute, daydreaming of pink hair bows. In my mind, Jameson is also there, because I think if he knew I was pregnant, he would insist on marrying me.

  I squint, speculative. Is that crazy? I’m pretty sure that is crazy.

  She clears her throat. “I mean, that does sound terribly nice.”

  I shake my head. “I think that I’m massively oversimplifying a very complex situation. If I were to be pregnant, and I were to decide to keep it, things between Jameson and I would be… well, complex is a nice way of saying it.”

  “Wellllll…” she says. “You don’t even know if you have to worry about it. And there’s a pretty easy way to figure out whether you do. So… you know, first things first.”