The next day at work, I’m relieved that I’m not scheduled to work with Asher. Instead, it’s me and Gunnar opening, with Alice and Maia showing up a little later.

I go about my bar prep silently, thinking about what a shit show last night was. It was busy as fuck, and Asher was pretending I didn’t exist. To say that last night was rough was an understatement.

I wish I could rage about how fucked up it was, and how I didn’t see any of it coming. But the problem was, I kind of did.

I love Asher. Straight out, flat out love him. He’s as much a brother as Forest or Gunnar. I’d stick with him through hell, if that’s what’s needed. When we got drunk at his engagement party and he said he had a plan for Cure, I was with him even though he had no idea what he was talking about.

The problem is his fiancee. Or ex-fiancee, I guess. Jenna has always been weirdly jealous of Asher’s time. She resents any time he has to spend at Cure, throws a fit once a week.

Then there is the fact that she treats everybody like dirt. Only that’s not even the bad part. Most of all, the way she refers to the future is what makes me hate her.

She’s always so sure that he’s going to tire of the bar, that eventually he will grow up and suddenly like her friends more than us. She’s made herself perfectly clear on this topic a number of times.

That’s why I was so thrown yesterday when she made her move, trying to grab my cock and trying to kiss me. It just seemed to come from nowhere, but maybe that’s just some rich person shit that I can’t even understand.

The part where it became my problem is the part where I decided to confront Asher. Rather than hear what I was saying and take it under advisement, he freaked out. Then he lashed out.

Things have been strained for a good couple of months now, but I didn’t expect anything like what happened the night before last. Asher walking in on that, and assuming that I did something wrong…

It was pretty brutal.

As customers start to filter in I run the service well, not inclined to stand and talk to customers. I like working the service well on days like today, because I don’t really have time to think.

Maia and Alice ring in the tickets, and I have to make the drinks. Most of the cocktails I know from memory. It’s sort of like an assembly line, slight variations on the same six or seven drinks.

I do it for almost four hours, filling the time in between orders by running the undercounter dishwasher and restocking liquor up on the shelves.

It’s not until Gunnar comes up behind me, clapping me on both shoulders, that I pause to look around. The bar is quiet, which is pretty normal for a Sunday night.

“You can get out of here,” he says. “I’m about to send one of the girls home too. I know you guys were slammed last night. You probably didn’t get much sleep, huh?”

“I mean, I’m fine.” Even as I say it, though, I feel the pull of wanting to leave. “Actually… yeah. I do want to get out of here early.”

“I knew it,” Gunnar says. “I’m psychic.”

“You sure you’re good?” I ask, rubbing the back of my head.

“Yeah,” Gunnar says good-humoredly. “I got this.”

I clap him on the shoulder and head to the back room. I switch out my bartender’s apron for my hoodie, grab my backpack, and then hit the front door.

It’s officially dark by now. I walk to the beach, which is just a block away. Even though I can’t see much of the ocean, the salt spray and the sound of the waves work their magic. I take a deep, calming breath.

I walk a little ways down the beach, my thoughts scattered. I feel my phone buzz in my pocket, the first time I’ve felt it all night.

I pull it out and realize I’ve missed a few texts from Emma.

Hey! What are you up to?

Wanna study?

About to get in my pajamas if you don’t text me…

The last one is only a minute old. I see an image in my head of her in her pajamas, which is burned into my brain from earlier this week.

I know I need to get my mind out of the gutter, but I can’t help it. I smile a little to myself as I text her.

I’m here. Just left work. It’s not too late to study, is it?

A few seconds later, I have my reply.

Nope. Wanna come over here?

I really, really do. But I just text back: Sure. Be there in 5.

I walk to her house, just a handful of blocks from the beach. It’s a ramshackle little house painted baby blue, and barely big enough for two bedrooms. No yard to speak of, just sand surrounded by a white picket fence.

When I approach the house, Emma is sitting on the porch, reading from a huge textbook. Her dark hair is braided around her crown, her long legs looking sunkissed in her little short shorts. She’s wearing an oversized pink shirt and no shoes, and she’s curled up comfortably on a big gray papasan chair.

This is really a terrible idea, a voice says in the back of my head. Just one glance at her, and I am already feeling guilty as fuck. But I shove the voice away and let myself in the squeaky white picket fence’s gate.

Emma looks up and smiles, her blue eyes warm.

“Hey,” she greets me.

“Am I interrupting something?” I ask, nodding to her textbook.

She shuts it, shaking her head. “Not at all. I was looking for any reason whatsoever not to study property law.”

“Mmm,” I say. I look at the empty chair beside hers, stacked with a couple more textbooks. “Can I sit down?”

“Yep.” She pulls everything off of the chair and stacks it neatly on the floor. “Make yourself comfortable. Do you want something to drink?”

I sit down, suddenly a little self conscious. The chair is a plain wooden one, and it’s too small for my big frame. I take my backpack off of my shoulder, putting it on the floor. “Uh… nah.”

“I have wine,” she says, her expression thoughtful. “A couple bottles that Asher brought over here. Pinot noirs, I think.”

“No thanks. I’m still trying to completely get over Friday night’s drinking binge,” I say, pulling a face. “You can drink if you want to, though.”

She waves a hand. “Not necessary. Did you bring your books?”

“Yep.” I unzip my backpack and pull out the science and math GED prep books. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

“Do you have a studying plan? Certain days of the week, you study certain subjects? Or…”

My lost expression is enough to stop her words. I shake my head, out of my depth in this arena. It’s not a comfortable feeling.

“Okay,” she says. “That’s not a big deal. I think it would be best if we set up a studying system, though.”

I incline my head. “If you think so.”

Emma smiles at me. “I think so. Let’s see… how many days do you have available to study, for how long?”

She reaches out and grabs the math book from me, her hand brushing mine. I swallow, trying to remind myself that I’m not a middle schooler, and this isn’t a soap opera. There is no hot-for-tutor thing going on here.

I shift in my seat, willing my body to comply with my brain’s wishes.

“Probably two nights a week, one or two hours?” I answer.

She looks up from my book, biting her lip. “Is there any way you can do three days? And make it two hours? That would really be ideal.”

I hesitate, then shake my head. “I don’t think so. At least on the number of days. I’ve got Cure to run, and I have to surf at least a couple times a week. Otherwise I’ll lose my shit on someone, real quick.”

She looks a little nonplussed, but she shrugs.

“Okay. Probably then like… a month and a half, or two months,” she says, flipping through the book. “I hope you can cram a ton of stuff in your brain.”

“Well, it helps that it’s broken down by section. I’ve already taken the English and social studies parts.”

Emma lights up. “Really? You did?”

I nod.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell anyone!” she says, punching me lightly on the arm. She wrinkles her nose. “Jesus, it’s like hitting a rock or something.”

I chuckle at that. “Do you need me to flex for you?”

She grins. “Maybe later. Where are you in this book?”

I shrug, growing uncomfortable again. “Mmm, about a quarter of the way through it. I’m not feeling sure about any of it though, honestly.”

She purses her lips, thinking.

“Alright. Let’s start by taking the first practice test in the book. Then I can see where you’re at, and go from there.”

“Okay.” I move a little closer to her, to see the book.

She smiles at me, tucking a wisp of hair back behind her ear. When she looks back down at the math book in her lap, I notice the slender column of her pale neck, dotted here and there with tiny freckles.

She flips through the book and locates the first test. “Here we go. You ready?”

I nod. Emma asks me the first couple of questions. They’re simple enough, with the math in them easy to do. Then I have to pull out a notebook and pencil for the next few questions.

“It looks like you’ve got most of these down, no problem,” she says when I’ve finished the test.

“Yeah. It’s more like… the formula you were talking about yesterday. Or that thing that tells you when to multiply and subtract… what’s it called?”

“The order of operations?” She waves a hand. “Things like that are easy enough. Really just a matter of memorizing stuff. I can do some flash cards for you the next time we meet.”

“Good enough,” I say with another shrug. “Now the science stuff… that’s a different thing. It’s not as easy to work out as math. Math is like… concrete, I guess.”

She wrinkles her forehead. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re not going to be an astrophysicist?”

“Not anytime soon.” I look down, realizing that I’m clenching and unclenching my fists out of pure nervous discomfort. Emma is so fucking educated, and I can barely get the math for dummies stuff she’s trying to help me with.

I’m so fucking out of my depths here, it’s not even funny. Luckily, she doesn’t notice that I’m so uncomfortable… or at least she doesn’t say anything.

“Alright, let me look through the science book.” She holds out a hand, and I plop the heavy textbook in it. “Jesus. Apparently you have to know a ton of science to graduate high school.”

I nod quietly, and she flips through the textbook. “Oh, this is great. It seems like you have more leeway here. Like you can probably guess every other question using reading and logic. That’s no sweat for you, probably.”

I shrug. “If you say so. I haven’t really studied much of the science stuff, because it looks impossible. ”

Emma looks up at me, her brow puckering. “Jameson, you’re one of the smartest people I know. Seriously, that’s why it sort of blew my mind that you were going to even take the GED. When you’re ready, this test is going to be your bitch.”

I feel my ears grow a little warm. The fact that I’m being encouraged by someone ten years my senior, for something that is so basic… it’s a little bit of an ego killer. “I’m definitely going to flunk it the first time, hard.”

“No way,” she says, shaking her head. “That’s the whole point of us studying together. When we’re done, you will ace the tests. First time’s the charm.”

I roll my eyes. “You seem pretty sure of the outcome.”

She looks thoughtful. “You need some kind of encouragement. Something big, when you take the test. A reward for your diligence.”

“Like what?” I say, giving her a skeptical glance.

“Hmm. I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. Do you have any big purchases planned this year?”

“Not really. I have several surf boards. I have a car. I have my bike. I have the bar. Really the only things I want, I have already.” And it’s mostly true. I do have almost everything I want.

Well, except for a girlfriend, but that’s complicated. I broke up with my last girlfriend a few months ago. Between Cure and the GED, I haven’t thought about dating since then.

Not that I would say any of that to Emma. I clear my throat, shifting a little to put an extra inch between us.

“Well, think about it. This has been an information-gathering session, more than anything. It will help me formulate a plan of attack.”

“Just… don’t set the bar too high.” I rub the back of my neck. “Remember, I’ll probably fail. I dropped out of ninth grade for a reason.”

Emma looks immediately scornful.

“Yeah, you dropped out to make sure that Forest and Gunnar had someplace to live. I just—” She pauses, then puts her hand on my knee. It feels warm through my jeans. “I hope you realize that leaving school early doesn’t make you dumb.”

I get fidgety, hearing her say those things, and stand up. I know it’s rude, but it’s better this way. “Yeah, all right. Are we done here for tonight?”

If she’s surprised by my reaction, I can’t tell.

“Yes. Of course.” She stacks my textbooks, handing them to me. I grab them, picking up my book bag and stuffing them inside. “Hey, when are you going to start teaching me to surf?”

I shrug. “Whenever you want. Not tomorrow, but maybe… the next day?”

Her sunny smile returns. “I would like that!”

“I’ll text you.” I shoulder my back pack, ready to go. I pause. “And Emma? Thanks.”

She blushes. “No problem. Next time we meet to study, I’ll be more prepared. I’ll get a set of flash cards, I think.”

Fuck, she is really taking this shit seriously. This is probably not going to end how she thinks it’s going to end.

I just incline my head and head off the porch, through her sandy lawn. I glance back once, and see her watching me, those bright blue eyes taking everything in.

This was not a good idea, I think as I head home.