by Jessa James
That seems to set Jameson off. He lunges forward, grabbing the guy by the shirt.
“You don’t treat people like that,” Jameson grits out, shaking the other guy. “If someone says to leave them alone, you do it.”
“Alright!” the guy says, his voice going up a few scales. “Let me go, man.”
Jameson pushes the guy away. “You need to leave. I don’t want to see you around here again. Comprende?”
“Fuck off,” the other guy says, but he’s already moving away, across the yard.
I am standing there, shaken and grateful. Jameson looks at me.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Mmmhm.” I want to throw myself on him and thank him. I want to kiss him, or maybe tell him that I love him. But suddenly, I feel a little sick.
I look at him, my eyes watering, my mouth filling with that kind of spit that tells you you are definitely going to throw up.
“Let’s get you to the car, okay?” Jameson comes closer, but I throw a warning arm up…
And then vomit on his Converse. He jumps back. “Fuck.”
I want to apologize, but apparently I’m not done. I run over to the bushes and wretch a few times, throwing up bright purple liquid. That is definitely alarming.
I am beyond ashamed. Not only am I vomiting, but I’m doing it in front of the one guy that I’ve been dreaming about since I was fifteen years old. That thought is never far from the surface, tangled up with everything else that is going on in my brain.
Jameson comes over and pulls my hair out of my face, and rubs my back until I’m done. I think he murmurs something soothing, telling me it’s going to be okay, but I’m really wrapped up in the business of throwing up.
When I’m done, Jameson guides me to his car and gets me inside. I slump against the door as he drives me back to his house that he shares with Asher, ashamed, exhausted, and drunk.
Jameson manages to get me into his house and to the couch in his living room. I sprawl all over the place while Jameson takes my shoes off my feet and gets me a glass of water.
He covers me with a blanket and turns out the lights.
“I’m sorry,” I slur, my eyes closing of their own volition.
I think I hear a smile in his voice, but I’m not sure. “Don’t be.”
“It’s not how I thought tonight would go…” I whisper.
Then I fall asleep.
8
Jameson
Current Day
I glance around the apartment, at the countless stacks of old newspapers, giant trash piles, and two piles of what looks like clothing. Every pile is overflowing, some so high that they nearly touch the ceiling. There is a path carved out among the piles of stuff, but I’m afraid to move too fast. It looks like it could all be set off into a miniature avalanche with one wrong move.
I lift a sheet of plywood up that was on top of a bunch of broken down dishwashers. Whatever is underneath smells pretty foul. I take a step back, wrinkling my nose.
“Dude.” Asher covers his mouth and coughs as dust flies everywhere. We’re on the other side of our duplex, cleaning out the side used for storage.“I literally think the landlord used to store actual junk here. And I think at some point he had animals.”
I just grunt in acknowledgment. I hulk out, lifting the plywood overhead and carefully picking my way through the piles of broken computer parts and newspapers until I get outside. I set the plywood down on the porch, beside the other large pieces of junk that we’ve pulled out of the house.
It feels good to move around a little, after not doing anything too physically strenuous for a few days. My t-shirt is a little sweaty; I pull it away from my skin, giving myself a little air.
Asher joins me, handing me a bottle water. “What do you think?”
I look at him, twisting the cap on the water. “About what?”
“About the house. I mean, can you see this side being lived in, after we clean it out?”
I consider that for a minute, peering back inside. “Yeah. I mean, I think that the house has good bones. But there is just a ton of crap inside.”
“Yeah. I’m thinking of backing my truck up here on the lawn so we can get rid of all those newspapers. The dishwashers, though…”
I lean against the house. “Anything that has to go to the dump, you can just pay to have it all hauled away by the regular trash guys. I think you just call them to arrange it.”
“Hmm,” he says, nodding. “Should we get a start on the newspapers?”
“Yeah. If you want to pull your truck up, I’ll start moving stacks of them onto the porch.”
“Word.” He jumps off of the porch, and I head inside.
I grab a bunch of newspapers off of the nearest pile, hauling them outside. I glance at Asher, who is backing up his truck. He’s been pretty quiet about where he’s been recently, but he’s definitely been somewhere other than here.
It’s a little weird, because I feel like I’ve been here, hanging around. Waiting for Asher to confide in me again, like we used to in the old days.
I mean, I even broke things off with Emma, thinking that Asher would find out and be really upset. But of course, he hasn’t even been around enough to find out anything…
He’s been really self-involved lately. With Evie, apparently, according to his own drunk confession. I’m not sure that he even remembers his little drunk confession, or that he was heartbroken over Evie.
Something bad must have happened between them… but judging by the fact that Asher hung out for a couple weeks and then vanished, I would guess that it has been resolved.
I’m not mad about that, in itself. I’m just mad because I could be wrapped up in myself, wrapped up in Emma, if it wasn’t for the friendship I have with Asher.
Basically now I’m left wondering if I overreacted and shot myself in the foot over something he doesn’t even really care about. Asher gets out of the truck and lets the gate down, then heads up to the porch.
“Let me grab these really quick…” Asher says, moving the few stacks of newspapers I’ve already dragged out of the house into the truck.
Then we are both grabbing stacks of newspapers, hauling them outside, and tossing them into the back of the truck. For a while, I am happy enough to do it in silence, but after a bit I grow tired of the silence.
“Where have you been staying at for the last little while?” I ask, hauling a stack of newspaper up from the living room floor.
Asher falters a bit. “I didn’t realize that you’d noticed.”
I raise a brow. “You thought I wouldn’t notice when you all but disappeared from the house that we both live in?”
“Right.” He shakes his head. “I just sort of hoped that you would do what you always do, which is shack up with some surfer chick and not really pay as much attention to what I do.”
I pause. “You think that’s what I do?”
“I mean, yeah. That’s been your M.O. for a few years.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. “Alright, but aside from me. Why are you like… avoiding the house?”
He picks up a stack of newspapers, taking a moment to carry it outside and toss it. When he comes back, he wipes sweat from him brow.
“I’m not trying to. I just… I’ve been seeing this girl, and she is pretty obsessive about keeping things private.”
“You mean Evie, right?”
He looks a me, clearly surprised. “How do you know it’s Evie?”
I roll my eyes. “You told me when you were drunk. You called her a bitch, too.”
Asher frowns. “I am such a traitor when I’m drunk. I really shouldn’t have told you anything.”
I give him a look. “Dude, I’m the best friend you’ve got in the world. You can tell me anything.”
He looks away. “I know, but…”
I am more than a little offended. “What do you mean, but?”
He seems to realize that he has stepped into a no-go area. “Sorry. I just… I shoul
dn’t talk about it.”
I lift a pile of newspaper. “So that’s it, then? We were best friends, until a girl came between us?”
“It’s not like that. We’re still best friends—”
My face contorts. “Except that your girl comes first. Is that right?”
“Not in so many words.”
“This is bullshit,” I bite off, heading back outside. I throw the papers into his truck, disgusted. With him, but also with myself.
Asher follows me onto the porch. “You’ll understand when you meet the girl you’re supposed to be with.”
Emma flashes in my mind, first thing. I mean, Emma and I never got far enough for me to know for sure, but I’m still resentful as hell. I glare at him.
“And how do you know that I haven’t?” I challenge.
“Dude, you would know. You wouldn’t be able to shut up about it.”
“Maybe I would be able to. Maybe I am just better at keeping my fucking mouth shut than you are.”
He rolls his eyes at me. “You haven’t dated anybody for long enough to have a horse in this race.”
I clench my fists. If Asher was hoping to pick a fight today, mission accomplished.
“You don’t know me,” I say through gritted teeth. “You used to, but not anymore. You have no idea who I date, and no say either.”
“No say?” He seems to find that part confusing.
I open my mouth to tell him everything, to spill my guts about Emma.
And his motherfucking phone rings. He glances at me, frowning, and pulls his phone out of his pocket.
“Shit,” he mutters. He turns away from me, picking up. “Hello?”
He talks for a minute, periodically glancing back at me. Then he ends the call.
“That was Gunnar. There is something wrong with all of the coolers at Cure. They just aren’t working.”
“What? Why didn’t he call me?”
Asher shrugs. “I don’t know. But I have to go over to the bar for a while. I assume that we’re going to need some kind of maintenance person to repair whatever’s broken.”
I narrow my eyes. “Uh huh.”
“Come on, don’t give me grief over this. We’ll finish our conversation later.”
I shrug. “No need. I feel like we’ve said all that there is to say, really.”
I walk back into that wreck of a house, fuming.
“Jameson!” Asher calls.
But I’m done. Done with his self-involvement. Done pretending that we are best friends. He has been brutally honest about the fact that he considers Evie his best friend, anyway.
Most of all, I’m done with his bullshit rules.
Of course, it’s a little too late for me to just go up to Emma and tell her. I feel like I’m sorry, I changed my mind isn’t going to cut it.
But it’s sort of freeing to know that in the future, I don’t have to live by his rules anymore. The question is, what does a future without Asher’s restrictive rules look like?
And why do I have trouble imagining any future with anyone but Emma?
9
Emma
“Okay, but how do we feel about this? Do we think that it is just the right amount of over the top, or is it just overkill?” Maia asks, posing in the doorway of her living room. “I don’t want to fall prey to my mother’s instinct for over the top everything. She’s from Hong Kong, so she’s partially excused, but… you know.”
I’m sitting on a low blue suede couch with pretty blonde Alice, eyeing Maia’s outfit. It’s a red lace jumpsuit, low cut in the front and back, and it emphasizes Maia’s tiny waist.
“I think it’s perfect,” Alice says. “Very cutting edge.”
“It’s not too revealing, is it?” Maia asks, turning for us to inspect her. Her British accent makes me smile.
“No,” I assure her. “You’ll be the belle of the ball.”
“Wonderful!” she says. “I mean, even though we are only going to Cure, I want to be sure that we all look posh.”
I stand up, brushing off the skirt of my blue gingham minidress. “I think we might be making a mistake going to Cure. We’re definitely hot enough to go anywhere.”
Alice and Maia look at each other. Something secret passes between them, and they both supress smiles.
“Let’s plan to start at Cure. Then if the party sucks, we’ll go somewhere else,” Alice suggests.
I raise my eyebrows, but I don’t argue with them. Besides, it’s not like I have a better idea.
“Alright, let’s go then,” Maia says, getting her phone out. “I’ll call an Uber, so no one has to worry about what cars are where tomorrow morning.”
We head out of the house. I follow Alice, carefully picking a spot of dark colored lint off of her strappy white dress. She smiles at me as we climb into the Uber.
“I’m so glad you finally agreed to come out with us,” Alice says. “We were starting to worry about you.”
Maia looks back at me from the front passenger seat, her expression mouth quirking. She knows that Jameson and I were a thing, but she’s far too polite to ask what happened.
“Yeah, I don’t know why I took so long,” I say, glancing out the window at the darkened street. “It’s not like I’ve been doing anything for the last month.”
“Well you’re here now, that’s all that matters,” says Maia. “And we’re going to have a great freaking time tonight.”
“Yes we are!” Alice cheers.
Soon enough we pull up to Cure and hop out of the car, thanking the driver. Maia is off like a shot, practically running to get in the door of the bar.
I look at Alice, raising my eyebrows at her in a questioning glance. She shrugs and rolls her eyes, and we both hurry to catch up to Maia.
As soon as Maia pulls the door open, the throb of the bass line vibrates the soles of my shoes. I step in the doorway behind Maia and A, my eyes adjusting to the room. It’s dark in here, with plenty of fog and lasers.
It’s also packed to the limit. It’s only ten thirty, but the DJ that Gunnar has been talking up is apparently a huge draw. There are people everywhere, dancing and talking and listening to other people shouting.
“Wow,” Alice shouts. “I did not expect this!”
Maia pushes her way through the crowd, and Alice and I follow her. On the way, I spot Brad awkwardly dancing with Gisella, grinning like an absolute idiot.
I stop and greet them for a minute, noting the way that Brad’s hands never stray too far from Gisella’s hips. I’m jealous of them for that. They both look deliriously happy, and I am jealous of that too.
When I say goodbye to them, my eyes automatically start to search for Jameson. The bar is so crowded that it takes a minute to suss him out.
But then I see him, tall and dark in his rolled up shirt sleeves, working silently but furiously behind the bar. When I get up to the bar, squeezing into the space that Maia has saved for me, he’s got two cocktail shakers going at once.
He smoothly shakes them, and then pops them open, pouring their contents into glasses. It’s nice to be able to see him like this, in his element. It’s almost like it was before we ever kissed, when I would just watch him bartend like a lovestruck little girl.
I sigh, just as he looks up and makes eye contact with me. Jameson looks confused for a second, and then this ridiculous smirk takes over his whole face. I narrow my gaze at him.
“Here,” Alice says, pressing a drink into my hands. I take it, turning my attention to the girls.
“To us!” Maia shouts, holding her champagne flute up. “May we live forever.”
Alice and I clink our glasses to hers, and I sip mine. It’s pretty good, all the fizziness of champagne with a little bit of… maybe chai flavor? Cinnamon and cardamom and all that jazz.
“Woo!” Alice cheers. “Let’s get this party started!”
She turns to the bar, pointing at Forest. “Make us another round!!”
Forest flashes her a grin and does her bidding. I
sip my champagne again, giggling when Maia puts her fingers on the stem of my glass, pushing it upward.
It forces me to drink a lot faster than I normally would, but I figure it’s okay. I’m in about the safest place ever to get drunk, considering that Asher and Jameson own this place.
Glancing at Jameson again, I quickly finish my first drink. He makes eye contact with me again, and for a second, I swear that there is no one else in the room. Time slows. I take a step forward, almost forgetting why we aren’t seeing each other anymore.
“Hey,” Maia says, elbowing me in the ribs. “Will you please get your head in the game?”
“Huh?” I say, giving myself a shake. “What game?”
“We’re going to all find a hot guy, and we are going to make out with them. That is the goal tonight.” She gives me a mischievous grin.
“Here, have another drink,” Alice says, taking my drink and replacing it with a fresh one. “After we finish this one, we can dance.”
“You are both terrible influences.” I drink a little champagne and giggle.
“We’re just sick of boys telling us how to be,” Maia says, shrugging one shoulder. “I personally am so sick of hearing about what men think.”
“Cheers to that!” I say, toasting the girls.
We finish our drinks and then head out onto the dance floors. I feel great, as bubbly as champagne and as free as a bird. I dance with the girls, feeling myself, and have a great time. Someone eventually gets another round, and I drink that too.
I turn occasionally to glance at Jameson, not even pretending to be sly about it. Every time, he’s already looking at me, his eyes glued on my figure.
Knowing that he just has to stand there and watch, and think about what he gave up when he dumped me… I admit, it sort of gives me life. It makes me dance harder and longer, with a secret smile on my face.
Eventually I notice that there’s a tall guy dancing next to me. I make eye contact with him a few times, and he dances closer.
I shift, making my body language open, and before I know it we are dancing together. Not touching, yet, but dancing all the same.
