Bad Reputation

by Jessa James

  “What’s your name?” he shouts into my ear.

  “I’m Emma!” I cry.

  “Emma, I’m Jake! You’re a good dancer!”

  “Thanks!”

  I bite my lip, placing my hands on Jake’s shoulders. Jake grins and puts his hands on my waist, pulling me closer.

  I lean close, noticing that he smells good. Kinda like sandalwood. And yeah, he’s not as tall and brooding as Jameson, but Jake is hot in a goofy way. He is sort of lanky, but athletic. I peer up at him, trying to guess his age.

  He’s probably only a few years older than me, the appropriate age I guess. I study his shoes and his clothes, and decide that he isn’t a member of my parents class.

  That makes me like him way more, automatically. I get a glance at Jameson when Jake spins me in that direction. Jameson is scowling, beyond pissed. He looks like there should be a corresponding black thundercloud over his head.

  I know it’s beyond petty, but I’m glad. Glad that Jameson sees me dancing with another guy. Glad that I’m having fun with Jake. Glad that Jameson looks so friggin miserable.

  Good, let him be angry and upset. That is how I’ve felt this whole time, ever since he broke up with me. It feels great to rub it in Jameson’s face a little.

  “Hey, do you—” Jake starts.

  But he’s cut off when I lift up onto my tiptoes and press my lips to his. I can see the surprise written on his face, but he catches on quickly enough.

  Jake slides an arm around me, dipping me back a little bit. He’s actually a surprisingly good kisser, and I open my mouth to him, inviting him to press further.

  His tongue snakes against mine, sending a little shiver up my spine. I close my eyes, surrendering to the moment.

  “Get out of the fucking way,” I hear Jameson growl behind me. “Move!”

  My eyes snap open as Jameson reaches me, snatching me away from Jake as easily as a rag doll.

  “What the fuck?” Jake says, looking askance at J. “Let her go, dude.”

  “Get the fuck out of my bar,” Jameson spits. “Now, before I make you get out. Trust me, you don’t want to fuck with me.”

  “Jameson—” I say.

  “You shut up,” Jameson says to me. “I’ve heard enough from you tonight.”

  I look at Jake apologetically. “I’m sorry. Maybe it’s better if you go…”

  “Damn right,” Jameson seethes. “Emma and I have some things to clear up, here.”

  “Jameson—”

  Jameson hauls me up by the arm. “We need to talk in private.”

  I look at Jake, who seems to be trying to decide whether or not he should fight Jameson. “I’m fine, I promise.”

  Jameson forces me to start walking with him, out of the patio door and into the moonlight. There are a few bar patrons outside, so Jameson tows me off of the patio. We emerge into the alley where we almost had sex, and I shake off his grasp.

  “Let go,” I say, frowning at him. “What is wrong with you?”

  He glowers at me, taking a step closer. He is huge; his physicality all sort of hits me at once. Jameson is just a big person. He could hurt me if he wanted to, really really badly.

  He doesn’t though. He just gets too close, intimidating me with his size.

  “You can’t come to my bar to meet strange men and think that I’m going to be fine with that,” he rumbles.

  I take a breath. I can feel his eyes on my body, feel his weighted gaze, too hot in this dank little alley. I cross my arms to try to block his view a little.

  “I should be able to do whatever I want to. See whomever I want to, wherever I want to. I don’t know if you remember this or not, but you broke up with me.”

  He clenches his fists and leans towards me. “That’s not fair. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

  I cock my head. “What does that even mean?”

  He shoves his hand through his hair. “I mean, I broke up with you because of your brother. It doesn’t mean that I don’t…”

  He trails off. I put my hands on my hips.

  “What, that you don’t have feelings for me? I thought I was just a fling. You seemed all too eager to throw that in my face before.”

  Jameson glances away. “Yeah, well. I was trying to do us both a favor.”

  I laugh. I can’t help it, it just bubbles up.

  “Save it. Whatever you are trying to do or say here, it doesn’t matter.”

  “It does when it’s happening in front of my face, at my bar!” he thunders.

  I can’t help the next bit, which comes out so loud that it leaves me shaken. “I didn’t choose this, Jameson! You did! So live with it!”

  “Emma— Emma, wait!” he tries.

  But I’m not listening. I’ve had enough of Jameson and Asher and their bullshit.

  Furious, I turn and fling myself down the alley, toward the parking lot. Tears blur my vision as I pull out my phone, searching for an Uber to take me out of this place.

  10

  Emma

  I’m hanging out at my house, which is starting to feel less like a place where two roommates live and more like a solo spot. Evie is still paying the measly five hundred bucks a month that is her share of the rent, but I haven’t seen her in two weeks.

  I’ve texted her a few times, asking when she would be back and inviting her to do stuff. She just texts back with vague excuses. I’m pretty sure she is going to move out soon. I’m bracing myself for it.

  So I’m sitting in the mid-morning sun, reading an old copy of the Stanford Law Review on the front porch. I am thinking about food, vaguely dreaming of omelets.

  I glance up to find Asher coming into the yard, a box of pastries and a couple cups of coffee balanced precariously in his arms. My eyebrows go up; I didn’t expect him here.

  “Evie isn’t here,” I call to him as he climbs the stairs to the porch. “I would’ve thought you’d know that, though.”

  He gives me a look. “I’m here to see you.”

  I’m instantly suspicious. “What? Why?”

  Asher sets the box down on the little table between the two wicker chairs.

  “Can’t a guy hang out with his little sister every now and then?”

  He hands me a cup of coffee, which I take with narrowed eyes. I sip the coffee experimentally. It’s actually pretty good.

  “Mmm. It depends. I feel like you have ulterior motives.” I put the Law Review down.

  “Nah, I just have a big box of croissants.” He smiles innocently, opening the lid to the box of pastries.

  “You are just making me more and more suspicious,” I tell him, reaching for a croissant. “I think you should tell me why you’re here.”

  “Just relax,” he says, waving a hand at me.

  Nothing about Asher has ever made me relaxed. Since we were kids, I have always been running at a full out sprint to catch up to him. Our parents set us up as competitors from the get go.

  I realize that, but I’m still put on edge by Asher, just a little bit.

  Still, I take him at his word, figuring that whatever he has to tell me must be pretty important. He’s showing his hand a little, obfuscating his true intentions too much for it be anything else.

  I bite into the croissant, enjoying the flaky and butteriness. “Mmmm.”

  “Right?” Asher says, smiling. “I got the croissants from Bennett’s. They are basically the perfect food.”

  “Uh huh.” I watch him out of the corner of my eye, waiting for him to reveal why he’s here. He takes a sip of his coffee, fidgeting.

  I have no idea what he’s about to say, but I can tell that it’s a pretty big deal. He seems to be choosing his words while I sit here, munching on a croissant.

  “Hey, do you remember why I made the rule about my friends not being allowed to date you?” he asks.

  I arch a brow. “Mmm… not specifically, no.”

  Asher sits back in his seat, the wicker chair groaning a little beneath him.

  “Do yo
u remember Corey Helm?”

  I picture Corey immediately. Blonde hair, a weak chin, and overly touchy. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

  He nods. “Corey was all right, as far as friends go. But he was really weird and creepy around women. He was so desperate, and I think that women just… like, they could tell. They were turned off by it.”

  “Yeah, he was skeezy.” I sip my coffee placidly, wondering what this could possibly have to do with whatever Asher came here to tell me.

  “So it wasn’t until you had that summer, the one where you sort of… grew up?”

  I smile. “You must mean when I was fifteen. The summer that I got boobs?”

  He shifts, obviously a little uncomfortable. “Yeah, okay.”

  I roll my eyes. “And?”

  “And we all hung out at our pool all summer, my friends and your group of girls.”

  “I remember. My friend Karen worshipped you, followed you around like a puppy the whole summer. And you didn’t discourage her.”

  Asher flushes. “That was not one of my more shining moments in time.”

  I finish my croissant, shrugging. He continues his story.

  “Anyway, I remember coming into the pool house. There were a few guys standing there, and Corey was telling them… he was telling them about your… body. In great detail.” He pulls a face.

  “Ugh, really?” I scrunch up my face. “Gross.”

  “I totally lost it on him. Not just because no guy should talk about a girl like that. And not just because you’re my little sister, although that was part of it.”

  “No?” I ask, picking at a loose thread on the hem of my tee shirt.

  “No. I also lost it because there are almost ten years between you guys! I mean, here you are, so young and like… not ready for that kind of attention from men. And there Corey was, piling it up on top of you anyway.”

  I squint at my brother for a long second.

  “It’s nice of you to tell him off for what you saw as inappropriate behavior. It really is. But that’s a fact of the world. You can’t save me from it just by telling your friends not to harass me.”

  He looks down. “Yeah, I know. I just— fuck that guy, you know?”

  I set my coffee down, patting his shoulder. “I know. Like, fuck the patriarchy too, while we’re at it.”

  He smiles. “Right.”

  “I have a feeling that you were telling me that story for a reason though, right?”

  He nods, taking a sip of his coffee. “Yeah. I was.”

  “And? Are you going to tell me about you and Evie at some point here?”

  Asher looks at me, surprised. “You know already?”

  “Of course I know.” I sit back, crossing my arms. “You are the most oblivious person ever, I swear.”

  He winces. “I’ve been accused of being self-involved before.”

  “Rightly so, I would say.”

  He throws up his hands. “All right. I’m the out of touch older brother, then.”

  I crack a smile. “It’s good that you’re finally becoming self-aware. I was tiring of how impervious you were to reality.”

  “You’re hilarious, you know that?”

  “I try.” I pick my coffee up again, considering him. “Is this little admission of yours the opening gambit to something? Are you supposed to be telling me that Evie is moving in with you or something?”

  Asher looks a little uncomfortable. “I mean, that’s what I want, but she is stubbornly clinging to her independence.”

  I am impressed, and a little relieved. “Good for her.”

  “You would be on her side.” He sighs. “It’s a little more complicated than just me wanting her to move in, though.”

  “Of course it’s complicated,” I say. “Nothing that is worthwhile is ever easy.”

  “Mmm,” he says, nodding. “I don’t know. Evie has turned my whole world on its axis, it seems like.”

  I peek inside the pastry box, eyeing a second croissant. “So you just came here to… what, come clean to me about dating her?”

  He shrugs. “That’s all I’ve got right now. And actually…” He looks at his phone. “I should probably get going. I have to open Cure a little early today. We have a big liquor shipment coming in this morning.”

  “Okay.” I watch as he stands up, draining his coffee. “I’ll take your cup.”

  “Come by the bar in the next couple of days. I’m trying out a lot of elderflower liquor based cocktails, to appeal to a lighter palate. I’ll use you as a guinea pig.”

  “Okay. See you later.”

  He heads off the porch, and I sigh. His visit was unexpected, but kind of nice. I may have already known about Asher and Evie, but it was still sort of sweet for him to tell me.

  Honestly, it makes me think about Jameson. If my brother had told me this little story a month ago, I probably would have used it as ammunition to ward off any big brotherly fuss about me and Jameson.

  Now, of course, it doesn’t matter. Jameson made the whole matter moot. But it’s still good to know that if A ever puts up any resistance to me dating someone older than me, I can pull the Evie card.

  Thinking about Jameson must put some kind of vibrations out there in the universe, because as soon as I settle into reading again, Jameson shows up. He pulls his bike up to the curb outside my house, looking as edible as an ice cream cone. I look at him as he steps off the bike, pulling his helmet off and running a hand through his hair.

  He starts towards me, striding up the path in tight denim and a baby blue tee shirt. His dark hair and five o’clock shadow only highlight the intensity in his eyes. My mouth starts to water and my hands begin to shake when I realize that I am the thing that intensity is focused on.

  I have to wonder, will there ever be a point when I don’t lust after Jameson? When I don’t see him and immediately feel like we are the only two people on the planet, like the sun circling the earth? When I don’t picture us naked and writhing together, no matter how briefly?

  I’m pinned in place by that gaze. I want to strip myself, here and now, and just throw myself at his feet. But of course I don’t. I have some pride, after all. I just think about it instead.

  By the time that he gets to the porch, I’ve managed to work myself into quite a state. Never mind that I’m supposed to be mad at him for how things ended the other night.

  I haven’t forgotten that, but it just seems so distant now. Unimportant.

  Jameson stops at the porch steps. “I come in peace.”

  His voice is so rough and gravely, it sends chills down my spine. I cock my head, pretending to consider his words.

  “Is that right?” I say. My voice is surprisingly steady, given the gut-churning turmoil that is going on inside my head.

  He clears his throat. “Can I come up and sit?”

  My mouth feels dry. I incline my head. “Yes.”

  He climbs the steps. I rake my gaze up the length of his body. I forgot how tall and broad he is, how petite I am in comparison. As he sits down, I bite my lower lip, refusing to admit to myself how much I want him.

  I must be hormonal or something, that’s for sure. That would explain how my nipples stiffen and my pussy clenches, just looking at him.

  Jameson sits down beside me, looking at me with a hesitant expression. “I’m sorry for how things ended the other night. That was not my intention.”

  I narrow my gaze at him, shifting in place.

  “I mean, what else could your intention have been? What did you think was going to happen when you dragged me outside?”

  He looks down for a second. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking, obviously. I just… I saw you with that other guy, and I kept thinking… not here. I won’t just stand here and watch that guy win Emma over in my space.”

  I arch a brow. “You realize that is crazy, right? Legitimately nuts.”

  He scowls. “Yeah, I know. I just… I’m struggling to come to terms with the breakup, okay?”

  I sit
back, considering him. “Yeah, I am getting that.” I purse my lips, thinking. “At least it’s not just me that’s having a hard time with everything.”

  Jameson looks up at me, his brown black eyes shining.

  “I really am sorry. Will you forgive me?”

  I want to reach out and touch him so bad, my fingers itch. Instead, I fold my arms across my chest.

  “Yes,” I say simply. “But you have to understand that I’m going to move on. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow… but eventually. And you can’t go around being an asshole about it, either.”

  Something dark flashes in his eyes, maybe pain. But it’s gone before I can put a name to the emotion. It takes him a second to say the words.

  “I understand.”

  I smile a little at him. “Good.”

  He stands up, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Is there any way that you will still tutor me? Or is that just insanity, thinking that will work?”

  I consider that for a second. “I will, if you promise to take me surfing. I want to actually stand up this time.”

  His face crinkles a bit as he smiles. “I think that’s a deal.”

  “Great.” I stand up, even though I haven’t got anywhere to go. “Text me?”

  “Of course.”

  Without another word, he lumbers off the porch. I watch him as he heads back to his motorcycle, drawing my lower lip in between my teeth.

  11

  Jameson

  Lying in bed early in the morning, I think of surfing. It is going to be a perfect summer day outside. Blue skies, not a cloud in sight. And the waves are supposed to be killer. I am so burned out with the rest of my life, I can’t wait to hit the ocean.

  And then I think of Emma. Because I think of her whenever I’m alone in this bed, more often than not stroking my cock and picturing her. I’m not ashamed to admit it, at least to myself.

  I miss fucking her.

  I imagine Emma, her dark hair streaming down her back, her tits and ass and legs perfectly suntanned against that tiny white bikini of hers. In my mind, she looks over her shoulder and grins at me.