Going Under

by S. Walden

“I have a feeling I’m gonna be really bad at this,” I said, feeling my heartbeat increase. It was ridiculous, but I was nervous, and not because I was sitting in such an intimate position with Ryan. I was scared of the freaking game.

  “You’ll do just fine,” he said, and pressed the X on the controller. The game started, and I squealed.

  “You like to squeal,” Ryan observed, watching me die in the first few seconds.

  “What is this game?”

  “Oh, Brooke. You’re such a girl,” Ryan said, and I instantly thought of Terry saying those same words when he described Fantasy Football for me. I squirmed. “This is Call of Duty. Freaking amazing game.”

  “It’s scary,” I said. “I don’t think—”

  “You’re doing just fine,” Ryan reassured me.

  I didn’t think I was doing “just fine” at all. I think I sucked. Big time. How could a painter have no hand-eye coordination? I think at one point I made my guy walk on the ceiling.

  I laughed when I died again. But I had to admit that I was starting to get hooked. It didn’t even take that long. Yes, I was still afraid of the bad guys. I didn’t like rounding corners, but each time I died, I was determined to try again. And I started getting better with the controller. Suddenly it became an extension of my hands, just like my paintbrush.

  “That’s right, bitch!” I yelled when I killed my first enemy.

  Ryan laughed. I hadn’t noticed his hands on the tops of my thighs when we started, but I definitely noticed them when they spread my legs apart ever so slightly. Did I mention I was still in my work uniform?

  I put down the controller immediately, and died in two seconds.

  “What did you do that for?” Ryan asked into my neck. He rained sweet little pecks all over my goose-rippled flesh.

  “I can’t concentrate,” I breathed, closing my eyes.

  He took his mouth away, and I wanted to scream at him to kiss me again.

  “Pick up the controller, Brooke,” he said. “And play your game.” Meanwhile, I’m going to play mine, is what I’m sure I heard underneath his words.

  I did as I was told, but my heart was no longer in it. I didn’t care about killing bad guys when I felt Ryan’s hands glide up and down my thighs, pushing my dress around my hips. I knew he could see my panties, but for some reason I didn’t think I should say it. I thought I had only one task he’d given me, and that was to continue playing my game.

  I drew in my breath sharply when I felt his fingers snake around my right thigh and between my legs. He ran them lightly over my panties, all the while watching the television screen. I knew he was watching it because he gave me some advice and a few warnings of enemies hidden in dark places.

  When he slipped his fingers under the fabric of my panties, I died. Shot up in a hailstorm of gun fire. My guy didn’t have a chance.

  “Try again,” Ryan cooed in my ear. He stroked me gently, refraining from slipping his finger inside of me.

  “I don’t want to,” I whined softly.

  “Brooklyn, try again,” he ordered, and I pressed the X on the controller.

  I tried to concentrate. I thought that’s what he wanted me to do, to see how long I could go before losing myself completely to his touch. We were playing two games, competing against one another, and I knew I’d lose.

  I cried out when he slipped a finger inside me, lasting only five more seconds until I was blown to bits.

  “I’m really bad at this,” I said. I didn’t recognize my voice. It was deep and sultry.

  “No you aren’t,” Ryan whispered, stroking me deeply until I moaned and let my head fall back on his shoulder. “No, Brooklyn. Pick up the controller and try again.”

  “Ryan!” I was beyond frustrated, and I screamed that frustration when he took his hand away.

  “Play your game, Brooklyn,” he insisted, shifting behind me. Only then did I notice his hard-on. I shivered with anticipation.

  I reluctantly started another game, and almost immediately, Ryan’s hand was in between my legs once more, touching, exploring, probing. I was aching for release, and he knew it. The longer he played with my body, the worse I got at the stupid video game. I felt the pleasure swirl around the insides of my thighs and my stomach. I knew it was coming. But I also knew I would hover on the edge of my orgasm indefinitely if I didn’t concentrate on Ryan’s touch. My brain couldn’t stay split in two between his hand and my game.

  The explosion was nearly there, so I focused on what was happening between my legs instead of the TV screen. When he finally released me, I screamed something between pleasure and agony, my finger permanently pressed on the button that made my guy fire incessant shots until his ammo ran out and he surrendered to the enemy.

  I lay back against Ryan’s chest, my head heavy on his shoulder. I was sweating and shaking from the aftermath. I’d never come like that. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure how I sounded when he brought me over the edge, and suddenly I felt self-conscious.

  “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Ryan said. He lifted his fingers to his mouth, and while I couldn’t see him, I knew he was tasting me. My self-consciousness multiplied tenfold. Did he like it?

  “I’m embarrassed,” I admitted.

  “Why?”

  “Because I think I sounded crazy,” I said.

  “No. Not crazy. Perfect.” He planted a gentle kiss on my cheek. “And you taste delicious, by the way. Scrumptious, really.”

  And just like that, my self-consciousness disappeared. I sat up and turned around, pulling my legs up under me. “Scrumptious, you say?”

  Ryan nodded, his blue eyes soft and glassy. Content.

  “I think I like playing video games,” I said.

  “Oh, you do, huh?” he asked.

  I nodded, looking down at his lap then back up at his face.

  “I think you should play this next round,” I suggested. My hands went to his belt buckle.

  He shook his head. I furrowed my brows, confused.

  “You’re new at video games, Brooke,” Ryan said. “Let’s just take it little by little.”

  I thought for a moment.

  “Yeah, but doesn’t practice make perfect?” I asked.

  “In small doses.”

  Twelve

  “Holy shit!” Gretchen screamed into the phone.

  I grinned, lying on my bed in a dreamy state, staring at the ceiling. My popcorn ceiling, and I thought it was the most beautiful ceiling in the world.

  “Brooke, why on earth didn’t you guys have sex?” she asked.

  “He said we weren’t ready,” I replied, the silly smile still plastered on my face.

  “What? Does he think you’re a virgin or something?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t care,” I replied. I had been in a continuous euphoric state since yesterday afternoon. My dad noticed last night over dinner, and asked me if I was dating Ryan.

  “How do you know I like him?” I had asked.

  “It’s painfully obvious, Brooke,” Dad replied. “You think I’m an idiot?”

  I grinned. “Are you okay with it if I do date him? I mean, we haven’t established anything yet.”

  “Yes,” Dad replied, and that word heightened my ecstasy.

  I listened as Gretchen peppered me with questions.

  “Are you two dating?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Will you?”

  “I hope.”

  “When can I meet him?”

  “Soon.”

  “Was he better than Finn?”

  Silence.

  “Oh God, Brooke. I’m sorry,” Gretchen said. “That was a really stupid thing to say.”

  My euphoria started fizzling, and I was pissed.

  “Brookey?” Gretchen asked tentatively.

  “He’s nothing like Finn,” I said.

  “I know. I shouldn’t have asked that. It just slipped out. You know how I don’t think sometimes.”

  I g
runted and sat up in bed.

  “Are you totally pissed?” Gretchen asked.

  “No.”

  Gretchen didn’t believe me. I could tell by her next statement.

  “You wanna just talk later?” she asked. I could tell she was itching to get off the phone.

  “Yes,” I replied, and hung up before we exchanged goodbyes.

  I tossed the phone aside and scratched my head.

  I was just fine a minute ago. Actually I was ecstatic at the prospect of someone new. Someone who could make me deliriously happy. I actually convinced myself for a second that I deserved to be happy. I don’t know why. I’m not sure I’d done anything to earn it, and Gretchen reminded me with the mention of Finn’s name. Now the memories came flooding back. Our secret trysts. Beth’s obliviousness. Her rape. I could not escape it. Why didn’t I just go to that party with her?

  My biggest fear lay in the possibility that I would never be able to let go of my guilt, that it would twist and turn me into something wretched. Mom always taught me to never find my happiness or self-worth in another individual, and I tried hard to adhere to that advice, but I couldn’t deny how I felt when I was around Ryan. He was a savior to me. When I was with him, all of the hurt and guilt vanished. I thought he had the ability to put my brokenness back together. Maybe that wasn’t progressive. Maybe that wasn’t all “liberated woman,” but I didn’t give a shit. I wanted to spend my every waking moment with him because when I was with him, I felt safe.

  But the warrior in me who was resolute in her commitment to Beth kept warring with the girl in me who wanted to hide behind Ryan. I recognized that both girls couldn’t win out in the end. Still, while I didn’t know how I’d make it work, I was determined to have both. To be both. I was greedy and selfish, and in my petulant state I thought that Beth would just have to get the hell over it.

  ***

  “You’re out,” Terry said after work. I was hanging around while he cleaned the grills because he told me he had news.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Out. Off the list. Cut.”

  I knew there was a huge problem with my psyche that I was actually mad about it. Mad about it.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. But I wouldn’t take it personally,” Terry replied. “I’m sure it’s got nothing to do with the way you look.”

  I scowled at him, and he grimaced.

  “Yikes. Keep making faces like that and maybe it does have something to do with your looks.”

  I punched his arm.

  “Ow!”

  “Is Cal scheduled to play yet?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Well, maybe that’s why,” I said, mostly to myself.

  “What are you talking about?” Terry asked.

  “I think he likes me,” I said. “Maybe he didn’t want me to be chosen for someone else’s team after all. Maybe in the beginning he didn’t care. And now? Well, it’s obvious he does.”

  Terry eyed me sternly. “You better be careful.”

  “I’m being careful,” I said, pulling my tip money out of my apron and organizing the bills.

  “Figured out what you’re gonna do with all this information I’m giving you?” Terry asked.

  “Yes. I plan on talking to some of these girls,” I said.

  “And what makes you think they’ll tell you anything?” Terry asked.

  “Well, I don’t know that they will. But I have to try,” I said.

  The truth was that I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I thought part of my meddling was clearly due to pure fascination with the whole Fantasy Slut League. How could this be going on and no one know about it? It made no sense. And how did these boys know how to rate the girls? Someone was feeding them information, and that someone had to be a girl. It’s not as though girls are going to admit their level of sexual activity to another guy. But they would talk with another girl about it. Who was this girl? And why would she participate in something so licentious?

  “You gonna give me some of that tip money as payment?” Terry asked.

  I looked at him shocked. And then it turned to embarrassment. I felt it on my cheeks, burning red like Christmas tree lights.

  “I’m just kidding, Wright! Jesus, calm down,” he said.

  “Do you want me to pay you?” I asked. I hadn’t thought about it until now. I didn’t know if Terry did jobs for other people, but I’m sure if he did, he got paid for them.

  “You’re a waitress, Wright,” Terry said. “So no.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “And anyway, it wouldn’t feel right taking money from you,” he said. “Not over this.”

  I nodded. “Hey, did you bring the Game 1 printout for me?”

  Terry reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “What are you planning to do with this?”

  “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

  That night I sat on my bed cross-referencing names of girls with their pictures in last year’s yearbook. I found two girls I immediately wanted to talk to. They both scored points for going all the way, and they were labeled “Good Girls.” I basically wanted to find out if the sex was consensual. It wouldn’t eliminate Hunter and Tim completely as possible rape suspects, but I thought it was a start. I’d have to get Terry to dig around and find older games to be sure.

  Melissa and Tara. They were both juniors this year. It would be difficult to find a reason to talk to them, and even then, I couldn’t come right out and ask if they’d had consensual sex with Hunter and Tim. I had to find a way to extract the information gingerly, and I wasn’t the best at being ginger. I thought I failed miserably with Lucy and simply got lucky that she offered information, however vague, about cheerleading and Cal.

  God must have been smiling on me the following day at school because I spotted Melissa walking down the hallway towards me. I had no plan. I tried to devise one the previous night but could think of nothing. The closer she came, the more I freaked out until I made a split-second decision and started running, slamming into her in a head-on collision. It didn’t help that she was wearing heels, and she toppled backwards, landing on the floor with a loud thunk before I could grab her. Her head hit the hard tiles and she moaned. God, I actually hurt her. Badly. I scrambled to help her up.

  “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” And it wasn’t a fake apology. I meant it. “Let me help you.”

  “I’m dizzy,” she mumbled, reaching vainly for her book bag a few feet away.

  “I’ll totally get your stuff. Just let me help you up. I think I need to take you to the nurse,” I said.

  She nodded dumbly and allowed me to pull her into a sitting position. She rubbed the back of her head and looked at me strangely.

  “I’m dizzy,” she repeated, as though she were saying it for the first time.

  Oh my God. If I gave this girl a concussion, I’d never forgive myself. I pulled her to her feet and let her lean on me as we made our way to the nurse.

  The nurse forced me to wait outside for Melissa, which really pissed me off. I actually wanted to sit with her and hold her hand because I felt so horrible.

  I had no idea how long I sat in the hallway before Melissa emerged looking better, if noticeably bruised. I couldn’t see the actual bruise on her head but it was in her mannerisms. She still wasn’t quite right. She seemed sedated, slightly out of focus, and when I apologized to her again, she looked at me as if wondering, Who are you?

  “Melissa, I owe you big time. Lemme do something for you to make it up to you. I feel horrible for running into you,” I said.

  “How do you know my name?” she asked, walking with me down the hallway.

  “Uh . . . doesn’t everyone?” I asked. “I mean, aren’t you a cheerleader?”

  “No.”

  Shit. That must have been Tara.

  “Well, I heard it somewhere,” I said.

  She didn’t seem to like that.

  “Who
are you?” she asked.

  “I’m Brooke,” I said. “Listen, I was just so spaced out. My mind has been going crazy lately, and I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

  “It’s okay,” Melissa said.

  “Well, I feel awful,” I went on. “I’m just in this weird place right now, you know? I’ve got this guy I really like, but he’s putting pressure on me to do it, you know? I mean, not like you care or anything, but I’ve got no girlfriends to talk to about it. I’m new here, by the way, which would account for the no girlfriends thing.”

  I heard myself talking, like I had stepped outside my body and was watching the scene as an interested third party.

  “You don’t want any advice from me right now,” Melissa said. “I don’t think I’m all there yet.”

  I grunted. “Again, sorry. I don’t know why I’m running my mouth to you. You’re a complete stranger. I guess I’m just dying for some female advice. I mean, I’m really freaking out.”

  It was lame, but I was praying it’d work.

  “Well, you shouldn’t have sex until you’re ready. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it,” Melissa said, rubbing the back of her head.

  I eyed her carefully. “So you’ve never been pressured or anything?”

  “Truthfully? I’ve only had sex once. And I did it because I wanted to get it over and done with, and the guy seemed more than willing. Maybe not the best way to lose my virginity, but he didn’t pressure me or anything. It was my decision.” She laughed, then grimaced. “Actually, I think he was shocked when I told him I wanted to.”

  Yeah, he wasn’t expecting such a killer score.

  I studied Melissa’s face. There was no hint of buried secrets. She didn’t appear scared or hurt. I believed her, and once I made that decision, I knew in my bones it was right.

  We chatted pleasantly all the way to her car.

  “Are you sure you’re okay to drive home?” I asked.

  “The nurse gave me permission, so if anything happens, it’s on her, not you,” she said, grinning.

  Thank God.

  I waved as she pulled away, thinking that Hunter might be cleared.

  ***

  I knew the risk I was taking by talking to Ryan at school. I knew I could lose Cal forever and never see my plan materialize, but it was a risk I was willing to take. I simply couldn’t stay away from Ryan. My body couldn’t. My mind couldn’t. He wanted me, that much was evident, but it was the way he slowed me down, the way he forced me to take a breath that hooked me. He didn’t want to rush into anything, a concept foreign to me. I never had that with Finn. We had sex almost immediately when we started sneaking around. That was really the whole point of our sneaking around. I realized I didn’t want to jump into sex with Ryan. I thought initially I did because of my over-the-top physical attraction, but I found it was a whole lot sexier to wait. And to burn with it.