Page 11 of Bad Reputation

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?