Leveling the Field (Gamers)

by Megan Erickson

  “Originally,” she said steadily, “I was going to ask you to be a part of my project, Rona’s Scars. I told you about my sister. I’ve spent a year interviewing people with scars to share their stories, so others can read their stories and feel less alone. I’ll be collecting donations for a scholarship in my sister’s name. So yes, I wanted you to be a part of it. But then we got involved, and I changed my mind.”

  He didn’t believe her anymore. So he stood like a statue as her voice began to waver. “I took those pictures of you when you were sleeping. And I’m sorry for that. Maybe it was creepy, but I wanted you to see yourself how I see you. I know those scars are more than skin deep. I know it’s more than vanity, but that’s not all I see when I look at you. I see—”

  “A man you could use,” he said bitterly. “You saw me as vulnerable.”

  She flinched and stepped forward, holding out her hands toward him. “Ethan, no. Please. You can’t believe that. I had planned to tell you about my project before it went live. I wanted to find the right time so this, right here, didn’t happen. And I guess I waited too long—”

  “You waited weeks too long,” he said through gritted teeth. “And who do you think you are?” His voice was rising and he knew it. He hated it, but the fury was building and building in his gut, and he felt like he was going to burst out of his skin. “We fucked a couple of times. We spent one night together, and that gives you the right to be my therapist? Fuck you, Lissa.”

  He took a step forward, hoping to step past her to the door, but again she blocked it with her body. He stood there, towering over her, breathing through his nostrils so he didn’t take this entire office apart with his bare hands.

  Hell hath no fury like a scarred man scorned.

  …

  This had been what she’d wanted to avoid. Right now. A furious Ethan who was on the brink of a complete meltdown.

  Her heart ached, because every bit of warmth that had been in his eyes when he looked at her was gone. So completely gone that she wondered if she’d imagined it in the first place.

  “You have to believe me.” She was faking bravado now. Deep down, she knew Ethan wouldn’t hurt her, but his entire body was a coiled spring, and her instinct was to flee. She ignored that instinct.

  “Was that your plan?” His voice dropped eerily low. “Sleep with me, use that tight body and sweet ass of yours to convince me to be a part of this? To allow you to take my picture and then plaster it all over the internet?”

  “No,” she said, her voice cracking. His words hurt her, but what hurt the most was the steel in his tone. The utter lack of…anything. “That’s not true. I tried to avoid sleeping together because of this. Because I knew you’d accuse me—”

  “You certainly didn’t try hard.”

  “Maybe you were hard to resist,” she shot back, getting angry now.

  He scoffed. “What, do you have a scar fetish?” He pointed to a man on her board. “Did you get on your knees for him, too? Smile at him with those red lips, suck him dry, and then take his picture?”

  Shit, she was shaking now, the hatred in his voice and his accusations breaking through her shield of courage. “Stop.”

  “What about him?” He jabbed his finger at another man. “Did you pull up your dress for him? Did you take his cock inside of you and ride him until he agreed to be some project?”

  “Ethan.” She gritted her teeth as the tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. “Stop. Please stop.”

  “Did you try to tell all of them that they were actually beautiful just so they’d agree to help you?” He took another step forward. “You’re a vulture.” He spat the last word and she stumbled to the side until her back hit a wall. “Delete those pictures,” he said, pointing at her computer. “Delete them, because I’m not allowing you to pick at my bones. I’m done with you, and you’ll be lucky if I don’t find a way to shut down this project and your studio. Leave me alone.”

  The doorway was clear now, so Ethan took advantage of it, striding out of it without looking back. She hadn’t expected him to glance her way one last time, but that didn’t stop the panic from rising in her chest.

  For a split second, she thought about running after him. But she’d told the truth, or what little she could think to say in the moment. If he didn’t believe her, then nothing she said would do any good.

  The click of his dress shoes echoed from the hallway, and then she heard the slam of the front door. She was alone now, her client having left before her conversation with Ethan, which was a blessing.

  Lissa walked to her chair and sat down numbly.

  She had worked so hard on all of this for Rona, and she still believed in it, still believed in the scholarship in Rona’s name. But right now all she wanted to do was burn all the pictures on her white board and wipe it clean.

  Her monitor caught her eye and she choked on a sob at the pictures of Ethan plastered all over it. Fumbling with the mouse through a haze of tears, she closed out all the pictures. She hadn’t known Ethan was stopping by. She’d put up the whiteboard this week in anticipation for the launch, to double-check all the participants and make sure she hadn’t missed anyone or confused the details. And she had been so close to choosing which pictures of Ethan to show him.

  But that was ruined now. Her heart ached to think that he’d now question everything she said to him. Other than not mentioning the project, she’d been nothing less than honest. She’d been attracted to him since the moment she saw him exit his car in the Gamers parking lot. Before she knew who he was. Before she saw his scars. Before she knew he could light up her body with a touch of his hand and then make her laugh.

  Before all of this, she’d wanted him. And she’d never meant to use him. Why couldn’t he understand she’d tried to do the right thing? If only she’d told him sooner about the project, or came clean about taking pictures of him.

  If only she’d done all of this differently, they’d be in her office now, talking. And later, maybe dragging out the bearskin rug for a repeat.

  A paper bag sat on her desk, and she reached out slowly, unrolled the top, then peaked inside. The smell of melted cheese and hot vegetable soup wafted out from the bag. She closed her eyes as a fresh wave of tears threatened. He’d brought her sandwiches and soup from her favorite deli. He’d wanted to surprise her with dinner and his presence, and he’d left feeling used.

  She took the bag and threw it in the trash, then dropped her head into her hands. She couldn’t go after him now. He would still be fueled by anger. Would there be a time he’d be willing to listen to her? She wasn’t so sure. And that was the worst thought of all.

  Chapter Fifteen

  On Monday morning, Ethan pulled on the sleeves of his suit, straightened his tie, and got in his car for the drive to work.

  He’d spent all weekend testing the weak points in his armor and fixing the damage Lissa had caused. He’d told Grant they’d do a trial run on camera today, and he was prepared. He’d written out notes on notecards, and he’d shaved and even plucked a stray eyebrow hair.

  He wasn’t E-Rad; he wouldn’t be E-Rad. Because E-Rad had feelings and loved and that wasn’t Ethan. He was all business, and he was focused, and he’d never let anyone take advantage of him like Lissa had.

  He gripped the steering wheel tighter as he made the turn into the parking lot of the industrial park. He knew she was launching her site today, and although he’d threatened to shut it down, he wouldn’t do that. She’d said donations would go toward a scholarship, and that was the only reason he hadn’t acted.

  He refused to dwell on it all, though. He refused to pick apart her words, everything she’d said to him to analyze whether he thought she was telling the truth or not. He refused to do that, because he worried what he’d uncover. He worried he’d feel bad for the things he’d said to her.

  So, no. He’d put it all behind him. And he’d push forward. At least he’d gotten something out of their brief time together. He’d agr
eed to be on camera again. But this was on his terms, his decision. He’d control the angle of the shot. Unlike Lissa’s pictures. He didn’t want to see himself through someone else’s eyes. It was bad enough he saw himself through his own.

  He strode past the conference room, where he saw a small filming area had been set up. A camera was pointed at a chair in front of a green screen. For a moment, the sight of it made him sweat, but then he steeled himself like he’d done all weekend. He could do this.

  Ten minutes later, Grant sauntered into his office, rubbing his hands together. Grant had no idea that the source of Ethan’s recent bout of courage had blown a hole in his confidence, so he was just as excited as he’d been last week.

  “So, did you shave? Whiten your teeth? Jerk off in the shower to release tension?” Grant asked.

  Ethan just glared at him.

  Grant laughed. “Man, I’ve been thinking about this all week! I think we can do an introduction; you can talk about who you are. This doesn’t have to go live for another couple of weeks, but let’s rip off the Band-Aid and get you comfortable in front of the camera again, all right?”

  Ethan liked that idea a whole lot, because he wasn’t quite sure how he’d react when that red light was shining in his face, the lens focused on him. “Right.”

  Grant frowned a little, his gaze on Ethan’s chest, and he looked down. “What, do I have something on my clothes?”

  “Thought you’d wear some color,” Grant muttered.

  “This isn’t even the real deal, Grant, just a trial run.”

  “Hey, dress for the job you want, not the job you have.”

  “You are so incredibly irritating.”

  “Yep.” Grant knocked his knuckles on the desk. “So you want to do this now? Do you need a snack? Did you bring your rider?”

  Ethan made a fist. “I’m going to hit you.”

  Grant was already strolling toward the door. “Come on, talent!”

  Ethan rubbed his damp palms on his pants, surprised at his heated skin, the racing of his heart. This wasn’t a big deal. It was just a camera. And it was just for practice purposes.

  He straightened his suit jacket, ran a hand over his hair, and followed Grant out of his office.

  In the conference room, the filming area sat in the corner. When he’d walked in that morning, his reaction had been minimal. Now, he thought it looked like a chair where they performed executions. He loosened his tie a little to get some air flowing. Was it a million degrees in here?

  Back when he was E-Rad, filming was no big deal. He’d roll out of bed at noon, eat some cereal, then retreat to his cave, wearing a hoodie. Sometimes he even showered, but his hair seemed to look better if he didn’t.

  He’d turn on the camera, begin playing, and that was that.

  This was…not the same.

  Grant was fiddling behind the camera, and Ethan frowned. “Don’t we have someone else doing this?”

  His friend didn’t even look at him. “Yeah, I think Owen’s gonna do it, but he’s out today. I can handle a camera.”

  “I know you can…that’s not the point.”

  Grant finally swiveled his head slowly. “You have a problem with me behind the camera?”

  Oh, this was ridiculous. “No, certainly not.”

  “Okay then. Chill out and sit your ass down.”

  Ethan huffed and did just that, straightened the tails of his suit jacket over his thighs. Then he thought better of it and took his jacket off. He had nowhere to hang it, so he glanced around before settling it on the back of his chair. Then he checked to make sure he hadn’t sweated through his shirt, which would have been gross.

  By the time he glanced up, Grant was staring at him. “Dude.”

  “Don’t call me dude.”

  “Are you finished primping, or…”

  “Oh, just start the damn camera,” Ethan snapped.

  “All right,” Grant said. “I’ll ask you some questions just to get you loosened up, and we’ll go from there.”

  Ethan nodded.

  Grant shot him a smile and pressed a button. The red light on the front of the camera lit up, and Ethan stared at it like it was a gun pointed at his head. A bead of sweat dipped down his temple and he wiped it away as discretely as he could.

  “So, why don’t you tell us about yourself,” Grant said.

  Ethan cleared his throat, unable to look away from the glaring red light. “Hello, my name is Ethan Talley.”

  He didn’t move, and Grant stood there for a while looking uncertain before he prompted, “Okay, and can you tell us what you used to do.”

  “E-Rad,” Ethan blurted, as another bead of sweat trickled down his temple. Why was this whole thing sending him into a panic? He didn’t know, but he couldn’t stop his racing heart. “I mean, I was E-Rad.” There was a five-second beat of silence before he rushed on. “I commentated video games on YouTube.”

  “And were you successful?” Grant asked.

  Ethan blinked, but after staring into that red light, he couldn’t focus well on his friend behind the camera. All he saw was a shadow and this lens and this fucking red light and holy shit, he couldn’t breath. Could. Not. Breathe. Was he successful? Depended on how you defined success. “Well, I made a lot of money until I was successful at fucking up my life and killing my sister, so you tell me.”

  Grant slammed his hand down on top of the camera to turn it off while Ethan surged up from his chair. He was out of the conference room in three long strides, and then he was on his way to the bathroom, quickly, because he could feel his breakfast rising in his throat.

  He made it to the handicapped stall and slammed the door shut in time to upchuck everything out of his stomach and into the toilet.

  He stood there, leaning against the wall, toilet paper pressed to his mouth, when two black shoes appeared under the door. “E,” said a deep voice.

  Ethan closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose before tossing the paper into the toilet and flushing it. “What?”

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  Ethan appreciated that Grant didn’t ask if he was okay. Of course he wasn’t fucking okay. “I don’t know.”

  “I can leave, or…”

  “No,” Ethan said, the word out before he realized what he was saying. “You…being here is good.” He wasn’t sure when the last time he’d wanted that. When he desired the presence of another person over being alone.

  Maybe because he was tired of being alone.

  He opened up the door to the bathroom stall to see Grant standing there, one hand braced on the wall. He glanced up at Ethan with round eyes. “Hey, man.”

  “Hey.” Ethan walked to the sinks and washed his hands. “Sorry about that.”

  Grant leaned against the sink. “No, I feel like I’m the one who should say sorry. I pressured you into doing this, and you almost had a panic attack—”

  Ethan turned to him. “You didn’t pressure me into it. This was my choice. I just hadn’t…been prepared for how hard it would be, I guess.”

  Grant studied him for a moment. “Did Lissa give you a great pep talk?”

  Ethan worked hard not to lash out. “No, we…are no longer together.”

  Grant made a choked sound. “What?”

  He didn’t understand. “It’s a long story, but she was using me. Some sort of project featuring people with scars. I was a face to her. A face I thought she didn’t see, when in reality, that’s all she did see. I thought I would be wanted despite my scars, and she wanted me because of them. So she could take my picture and have it further her career.”

  Grant frowned. “Really? Chad said they’re friends. I find it hard to believe she’s malicious.”

  That was what Ethan had been trying to avoid. “Well, it’s over.”

  “E—”

  “The project launches today, in fact. Just Google ‘Rona’s Scars.’ I didn’t authorize the use of my picture, but who knows if it’s up there anyway.” Grant loo
ked miserable, which Ethan empathized with. “Look, can we try again another time? I thought I pulled my shit together this weekend, but apparently I didn’t.”

  Grant nodded. “Of course.”

  “And don’t worry Chloe with any of this,” he added.

  Grant pressed his lips together, then finally said. “Fine.”

  Ethan turned to leave but stopped when Grant called his name. He looked at his friend over his shoulder.

  “Uh…” Grant scratched the back of his neck. “I’m assuming this breakup was kind of a scene then?”

  “That’s safe to assume.”

  Grant sighed. “Yeah, okay. Maybe, uh, give this some thought once your emotions aren’t so high, you know? No good decisions are made when you’re pissed.”

  Ethan didn’t want to discuss this. “The decision was sound.” He pushed the door to the bathroom open as he heard Grant mutter behind him. “Of course it was.”

  It was. It had to be. Because the only alternative was that Ethan had fucked up another relationship in his life. He wasn’t sure he could live with that.

  …

  This was supposed to be a day of celebration. A day where Lissa could sit back and honor Rona and see the product of all the hard work she’d done in her sister’s honor.

  And instead she was a mess, and it was all that bastard’s fault. At first, she’d been devastated, hurt by his words and ravaged with guilt. She should be holding court at the bar where her parents were throwing a party for her, and instead she was hiding out in the bathroom.

  Over the weekend as she’d geared up the launch of Rona’s Scars, anger had taken over. Ethan had said horrible things, he hadn’t believed her, and then he’d taken the happiness of this day away from her. The site had launched earlier that day. No way would she give up on her project, but not having Ethan approve was a knife in the old wound.

  Taking those pictures had been a mistake, but it had been for him. She believed that in her heart, that she hadn’t done it in a misguided attempt to assuage her guilt over Rona. Ethan wasn’t a project. She had done it because she cared about him and wanted him to see himself through her lens.