James Games (11 page)

“Are you trying to piss me off?”

“I prefer the term succeeding.”

“Watch your back, Fiona Arlett,” she spits in my face before stalking off.

I glance over my shoulder to make sure things are all right back there before continuing. Instead of feeling jaunty, though, the way I normally do after antagonizing Sigrid, I’m just exhausted. I want to go back to bed forever.

That desire increases by fifteen hundred percent as soon as I step into the Philosophy room. Every head swivels toward me at once. It’s like walking into a room full of owls. Bitchy owls who start whispering to each other, squinting at me like I personally insulted their owl grandmothers.

I can
feel
James’s presence in the back of the room, but I can’t quite look at him. I’m not sure how to reconcile my antagonistic hook-up partner with the tender protector of last night. I head toward my usual chair, but the girl next to it throws her bag on the seat.

“Taken,” she sneers.

I simply veer toward the next available seat, too tired to argue, but someone else wraps her ankle around the chair and pulls it toward her. “Why don’t you go sit with your
boyfriend.
”

I know who she means. She thinks I’ll wimp out, blush and duck to the front of the room. Instead I turn on my heel and march to the back. I’ve got to face him at some point.

“Morning,” he says as I swing into the chair beside him.

“It is, isn’t it?” I take out my notebook. “Act natural. It would seem some people are watching us.”

I glance at him to see that he’s staring coldly at the whole classroom. “Take a picture. It’ll last longer,” he says, and nearly everyone jolts and turns around, except for one girl who giggles,

“Nah. I’ll just use that picture that came out with the article.”

“What article?” I ask.

“It’s nothing. How are you doing?” he asks quietly. The concern in his eyes goes straight to my heart, which has no business getting involved in this interaction.

“I’m fine. What article?” I repeat, but Professor Moore foils me by showing up.

Discussion gets underway, but I’m not paying attention. There’s a pit in my stomach. I write
what article?
twenty times on a piece of paper and slide it over to James. No one can turn down that kind of determination. Impressed, he raises his eyebrows, shrugs, pulls something up on his phone, and passes it to me.

It’s a picture of James and I, at the party. The party where I was naked.

There are black rectangles obscuring the inappropriate bits, but it’s very obvious that I’m naked and from the way I’m leaning toward him, seated on the counter with my feet swinging and a drink in my hand, it’s
very
obvious that I’m hitting on him. Even if I wasn’t. Not technically.

I scroll down.

James Reid, who won the hearts of teenage girls everywhere with his hit show
All About Us,
though it was mysteriously and unexpectedly canceled several years ago, has been striving to achieve a normal life as an undergraduate at UCSD. And like any college boy, he’ll have to navigate the pitfalls of young love. Unfortunately, this one seems less like a pitfall and more of a cliff’s edge. Freshman Fiona Arlett, already known as a party girl, gained immediate notoriety Friday night when she showed up to a gathering naked, a stunt that clearly attracted the attention of James. The fun turned sour when, after James disappeared upstairs with Arlett and another young man, a fight ensued, leaving the young man—identified as Damien Sando—in the hospital.

“She was hitting on Damien all night but as soon as James showed up, she paid more attention to him. They say she couldn’t decide which one she wanted and told them to prove to her which of them was worthy of sleeping with her,” said our anonymous source. “She screws everyone within screwing distance. Most guys around here know better than to get involved with her.”

Mr. Sando could not be reached for comment. Our source indicates he has voluntarily withdrawn for the semester. “James showed a violent side none of us knew he had,” our source continued. “I don’t blame Damien for wanting to get the hell out.”

“What the hell,” I yell. “This is all bullshit!”

“I always encourage my students to have strong opinions, Ms. Arlett, but I do not know if ‘bullshit’ is the best word to describe Nietzsche’s work,” Professor Moore says sternly from the head of the classroom.

“Right. Sorry. By bullshit I meant…the excrement of a primal animal, which is a metaphor for the ideas produced by the instinctive mechanisms in Nietzsche’s brain,” I bluster.

James writes me a note.
Not bad.

I nearly tear through the paper in my effort to write back as quickly as possible.
Who wrote that article?

It was featured on a popular blog about the lives of celebrities who’ve fallen out of the public eye. They write about me from time to time. I wouldn’t worry about it.

I scribble,
Easy for you to say. You’re not the one being painted as the evil naked party seductress.

I wouldn’t say that description is entirely inaccurate.

I pause to smirk.
Who’s this source they keep going on about?

No idea. It doesn’t matter. If anyone bothers you about this article, let me know and I’ll handle it.

I can fight my own battles.
I feel stupid handing that one to him, knowing full well how badly I’d needed him to fight last night’s battle.

I know. But something about you makes me want to fight those battles for you.

I freeze. Does this count as flirting? It’s definitely not normal flirting. That’s knight-in-shining-armor, historical-romance-with-a-woman-in-a-corset-on-the-cover flirting. I don’t know what to write back, so I spend the rest of class listening intently but not taking in a single word that Professor Moore says.

We leave class together. Glares follow us out of the classroom, out of the building, across the lawn, burning brighter than the hot California sun. James ignores them, and me…well, I’d like to glare right back, but something in me shies away from that.

“I better go back to my dorm,” I finally say, faking a yawn in front of the turn that leads to my building.

“You sure? I thought maybe we could grab lunch together.” He gives a disaffected shrug.

James Reid just asked me to lunch. What’s more, James Reid is now looking at me sideways like a little boy who feels like he has to play it cool but who really, really wants to go to Disneyland. It’s surprisingly adorable, but there’s an exhaustion at my core and I’m pretty sure one more hate-filled stare will shatter me.

“Thanks, but I’d pass out in a bowl of pasta. It’s definitely nap time.”

“Fair enough. Here, anyway.”

He’s handed me a piece of paper with a number on it.

“I want you to call me if anyone bothers you.” His hand finds my wrist and grips it tightly, briefly. “I mean it. You wouldn’t be going through this if I weren’t…”

His voice trails off, disgusted. I cut in. “Uh, no, wrong. You’re the one who’s getting screwed over because of me. I should apologize.”

“I thought I told you to never apologize.”

“Rules aren’t really my thing,” I say, but it doesn’t come out like it should. It’s weak. I force another yawn and back away. “I promise it doesn’t bother me. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He nods once and we separate. My face burns all the way back to my dorm. Lying doesn’t suit me.

That night, when Iris tries to get me to go to the dining hall with her, I decide it would probably be better just to order in pizza.

And the next morning, when I have to go out and face class, I figure there’s nothing wrong with using up one of my free absences.

And another.

And then another.

I become very attached to my bed. The bed is a great place, as it turns out. It’s soft, warm, and there’s no boys nearby trying to pin you down or girls looking at you like you’re made out of literal vomit. It’s even better when all the shades in the room are pulled down, because then you can spend hours in a haze, not close enough to sleep for nightmares and not close enough to consciousness to think.

When I left for college, the world seemed like such a shining place. A playpen where I could do whatever I wanted, finally free. I was aggressive and fun and spontaneous and brave and I was the Fiona I’d always wanted to be, and there was nothing to be afraid of.

It’s like I turned around and finally noticed the shadows. And the shadows are full of monsters.

The real world, as it turns out, is not quite so pretty and new.

At first, Iris makes Iris-jokes about how the doom and gloom really suits her better, how we should start a retro emo band. Then she starts trying to haul me out of bed, enlisting Mags to help her, but I fake an illness and my throat actually starts to get sore from all the pretend coughing.

James texts me a few times, mostly to ask how I am, and I respond with a smiley face and leave it at that.

Things continue like this for a while. I miss one party. Then two.

“Brooklyn asked after you,” Iris says eventually, crouched at the edge of my bed. “She says it’s okay if you want to drop out of Phi Delta Chi.”

“Why?” I sit up for the first time in what feels like a week. “Does she want me to?”

“No, she says it just seems like you’re not too interested anymore. You haven’t been coming to the events.” She chews her bottom lip. “Fiona, let’s be real. You’re not sick anymore. Colds don’t last three weeks. I’m not a therapist and I don’t know how to handle this, but if you need me to find you one, I will.”

“I’m fine,” I say lamely. “I’ve just been laying low, waiting out the rumors. I’m not good at ignoring them like James does.”

“James asked after you too. Three girls near me practically passed out at the fact that he was talking to me.” She hesitates. “He seemed really concerned.”

This brings a flood of emotions that are entirely unnecessary. I bury my head under my pillow to suffocate them. “He doesn’t deserve to be put through this because of me.”

“Because of you?” Iris yanks my pillow away. “It wasn’t too long ago that you were bragging about how much you didn’t like him. Suddenly you’re a martyr for him? This is not like you.”

I want to tell her I don’t know how to find room for the old me beside this new fear, but I can’t explain it.

She says a few more things, makes some sort of determined declaration before sweeping off, but I’ve tuned her out again. She’s right. I’m not Fiona anymore. And if that girl was so weak she could be shattered by one bad night, there wasn’t much to value about her to begin with.

Fifteen minutes later, the light in my room switches on. It bleeds through my pillow and around the edges of my eyelids. “Iris, I told you…”

“You’re not naked, are you?”

It’s a male voice.

“No…?”

“Good,” James Reid says, and yanks the covers right off me.

I shriek and yank my knees up to my chest. I’m sure I should be worrying about my matted hair, my unwashed face, my lack of makeup and my poodle pajamas, but let’s be honest, I probably still look amazing.

“Come with me,” he says.

I glower up at him like a garbage troll. “Did Iris put you up to this?”

“She gave me the key on her way to class.” He tosses my blanket across the room as I make a grab for it. “Get up. Now.”

“Just because you had sex with me and beat up someone for me does
not
mean you get to give me orders.”

“Yes, it does. You know why? Because this isn’t you,” he says, and I roll over to look at him. “I know I’m not your friend. I know I should have no right to say anything about you. But from the moment I met you, I knew exactly who you were, because you make it so damn obvious.”

“Who am I, then?” I challenge him, but I’m also kind of curious.

“You’re obnoxious and exhibitionist. You’re pushy and aggressive and you thrive on conflict. You’re arrogant and vain and you never lie, you never hide, you’re made for confrontation. That’s why this hiding away is not going to solve your problems. You’re going to solve your problems the way Fiona Arlett is supposed to.”

Should I be flattered or offended? I should be the latter, but I’m veering toward the former. “And how’s that?”

“By making a big fucking scene,” he says, and drags me up out of bed.

I pull free. “I can’t go out there. I’m sick of everyone staring at me.”

He folds his arms. “You didn’t care about staring when I met you.”

“That was before I knew there were people who wanted to hurt me!”

It pops out of me like a bad tooth. Tears swell up and I rub my eyes hard. “Sorry. Just add pathetic to that list of characteristics.”

He swears. Then I’m in his arms, and he’s hugging me so briefly and tightly that I may have imagined it. He lets go fast, like he’s afraid of holding on too long. “Pathetic isn’t even in your dictionary. Get dressed. I’ll be outside the door.”

I have no idea what he’s planning, but it turns out that James is a hard guy to turn down when he’s all fired up. I pull on a sundress and let him whisk me away down the hallway.

“What are we doing?” I ask as he guides me outside. The sunlight hits me like a truck and I flinch like some underground mole. I’m surprised at how much time has passed. A few of the windows have bat and witch cutouts, and there are pumpkins by the door of the dining hall. Right. It’s nearly Halloween.

“You won’t come out of your room because everyone hates you, right? And everyone hates you because they think there’s something between us, right?” His grip is firm on my wrist. He brings me to the green lawn where lots of students eat lunch or study after classes. It’s nearly one o’ clock, so practically the whole campus is out here, lounging in the sun even though it’s October and the rest of the world is wearing sweaters. Goddamn California.

“I guess,” I say slowly.

“So we’re going to disabuse them of that notion,” he says in what I’m starting to realize is a weird wordy pet phrase. We walk together to the center of the lawn. I’d been hoping that my stint as a hermit would have given the rumors some time to blow over, but James is a literal magnet for the female gaze, and once everyone sees me standing next to him, the whispers start. One guy says something to his pack of stoned bros and they all laugh. I’m sweating. What if they know Damien? What if they want to get back at me?