“Well, I don’t know.” I shrug, firing again, then quickly looking behind me to the college bros hammering away on the old X-Men cabinet. “It’s just, those guys here, and—”
“No, no,” Rebekah says as she holds her pink gun out to reload. “I get it. It’s going...fine. Not the best, but fine.”
Last semester, on the way back to her dorm one night, Rebekah was assaulted in an elevator on campus. And as if that wasn’t enough, the assholes who attacked her recorded the whole thing, and it quickly leaked. The video went viral, and the guys denied what happened, despite the footage, which only fueled the fire of the story going absolutely everywhere.
Shortly after, Rebekah moved out of the dorms to her hip studio near campus, and the dudes were supposed to be suspended while the investigation was ongoing. But it’s still ongoing, and those assholes are still on campus, taking their classes like nothing happened.
Because that’s what happens.
She’s been taking as many online courses as she can from the comfort of her apartment ever since, even though the college is practically down the block. I know she’s been seeing one of the school therapists at the Women’s Center on campus as well, but she doesn’t talk about their sessions very much.
“You know I’m here for you, right?” I lean across the divide between us and nudge her, just barely making it back to my side in time to dodge an attack. “We can talk about stuff like that, not just games, or computers, and—”
“Div, I know,” she says, turning to give me a look full of meaning. “You don’t have to ask.” She takes aim at the screen. “Just knowing you’re there is enough.”
“I’ll always be there.”
We both reload at the same time.
And we fire away.
* * *
I wipe at some sweat on my forehead, still holding the Time Crisis light gun. It takes about an hour to beat the story. Well, if you’re good at the game, that is.
And we are.
“That is awesome,” I say, holstering the light gun and crossing my arms.
“A thing of beauty, really,” Rebekah agrees, grinning as she pulls out her phone. I take mine out, too, and snap a few photos, our high scores right above one another—a happy accident, unlike our choice in high score names:
TIME CRISIS 4: HIGH SCORES
D1V
D1V
BEK
D1V
BAN
MEN
BEK
ASS
“I really wish that ‘ASS’ score wasn’t still on there, though,” Rebekah grumbles.
“You can admit you did that, it’s okay.” I grin, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I won’t judge.”
“You’re the worst.” Rebekah smirks, giving me a side-eye.
“That score is fucking crazy!” a familiar voice exclaims, rocketing me out of our moment. Walt—the guy who gave Rebekah the quarters earlier—is back, along with the dudes he walked in with. They’re all dressed pretty much the same, T-shirts and caps with the college’s logo on it, except for one guy, a Filipino dude wearing a shirt with some kind of cartoon burger on it, looking like an icon for a smartphone app. “You two are awesome gamers for girls.”
Rebekah snorts and looks up at me, smirking. “For girls?” she asks. “Can you guys do any better? I don’t recall hearing the final battle for your X-Men game over here, and that end scene is pretty damn loud.”
Two of the guys in the group look at each other, clearly irritated.
“Eh, we were just playing for fun, anyway,” Walt huffs. “Hey, I was wondering, do you want to maybe play games together sometime? Could I get your number?”
The dudes behind him jostle into one another like a group of friends in a sitcom commercial.
My stomach sinks.
“Oh no. Thank you, though, that’s nice of you,” Rebekah says, casually picking up her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. Her eyes meet mine for a moment, and I get it. I’m ready. It’s time to get out of here.
Walt’s eyes narrow. “Why not?” he asks, his tone aggressive. “Something wrong with me?”
“Walt, chill, it’s no big deal,” one of his friends says, and I notice it’s the burger-shirt guy. He grabs at Walt’s arm, but Walt promptly shakes him off.
“Fuck off, Brian,” Walt snaps, then turns back at us. “Come on, I gave you some quarters for your game. I’m a nice guy, you should want to hang out with me.”
“People don’t do nice things for one another expecting some kind of reward, asshole,” I snap, moving to shuffle Rebekah out of here and away from the group. I put my arm around her and turn to leave, when a hand grabs my shoulder.
The grip is tight.
Angry.
I pull away and glare. Walt is there, looking at me with his eyes narrowed.
And then I see it. That spark of recognition.
My heart begins hammering on all cylinders.
“Yo, Andrew, you were right,” Walt says, and I shift to stand in front of Rebekah, who I can feel shaking a little next to me. One of the guys behind Walt—Andrew, I’m guessing—pulls out his phone, and it looks like he’s taking pictures. I put my hand up to block his shots.
“Yeah!” Walt exclaims. “She’s that streamer girl. You’re that girl, aren’t—”
Walt moves to seize my arm again, and before I know it, I’ve slapped him across the face. The crack echoes loud and sharp in the arcade, which is still vacant save for the four guys, me, and Rebekah. I glance over to the counter, where the pizzas are, but the stoner on duty is nowhere to be seen.
Walt glares at me, his eyes narrowed and teeth clenched.
“You fucking bitch, who do you think—” I see his fists ball up as he takes a big step toward me and Rebekah, and I flinch back, covering her, when Walt suddenly tumbles backward.
“Walt, what the fuck man, knock it off!” I look back to see that Brian guy pulling at Walt, then pushing him away from the two of us.
“Brian, stay the fuck out of this, you—” Walt starts shouting.
But I don’t stick around to hear the rest.
I push through the heavy double doors and out of Quarter Slice Crisis, pulling Rebekah with me. The pizzeria-slash-arcade isn’t exactly located on a main street, so we bolt off down a side alley. Rebekah picks up speed, taking the lead. She doesn’t even have to say anything; I know what she’s doing. We’re heading toward the waterfront. Toward the public. Toward people.