The Arrangement Anthology 2(62)

My eyes cut across the room to the little desk, and I sit upright on my bed. “Yes. Why?”

Sean’s lips are pressed together. “Come see.”

“I don’t care.” I stay on my bed and lay back down. So what if another video of me is out there? That’s the least of my problems at the moment.

“I need to know if it’s a copy or if this was from a different time.” Sean’s voice is tense.

I push up and walk over to him before glancing past his shoulder at the screen. Sean presses play and I don’t know what I’m looking at. It’s very dark, too dark to make out faces, but I know it’s me. The floor of my stomach drops. “I didn’t record that.” As the video continues, I see me having sex with someone, but there’s no face—just a naked back. He’s in my room, on my bed, slamming his hips into mine. My hands fly to my mouth as I try not to scream because I don’t remember doing that at all. “Who is that? Where’d you find this?”

“It’s online on some no name website with a low ranking. It doesn’t seem like he’s used it yet. Are you sure you didn’t do this? I mean, I know you had other clients. You don’t have to spare me, Avery.”

I smack the back of his head. Sean winces and turns quickly before I can do it again. “No! I’m not a goddamn slut! I know who I slept with and I don’t know who that is. I haven’t had sex with anyone in this room, besides you.”

“I had to ask. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Sean makes a copy of the video and hits replay, watching the damn thing over and over again on mute.

I finally ask, “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t say anything for a while. When he turns around he says, “This is me. Someone edited it and put in a different guy.”

“How can you tell?” I look at the video over his shoulder.

“There are a few spots where he didn’t take out my hand. See?” Sean stops on a frame and I can make out his ring on his finger between the bed sheets. “Fast forward a frame or two and it’s gone.”

“How’d you even find this?” I’m staring at the screen wondering who would make a fake sex video of me, but that’s the question I ask.

“The IP address matched an email I received a while back. The letter was nice enough, but it just seemed off. I’ve been digging around looking for more to pop up, but nothing did—until now.”

“Do you think it’s Henry?” I ask nervously.

Sean shakes his head. “Does it look like Henry?”

“It wouldn’t have to be him in the video.”

“No, Henry Thomas had a crush on you. If he made this, he would have used his own image and made things more visible. He would have emailed it to me to show off his trophy. This isn’t like him.” Sean stares at the screen for a while longer, silent.

I go back to my bed and lay down. My phone chirps. There’s a message from a number I don’t recognize, but I know it’s from Mel.

B SAFE. U OWE ME A STACK WHEN THIS SHIT IS DONE.

I text back.

K. IHOP IT IS.

I want to ask her where she is and if she’s all right, but I know better. This is safer. Some lunatic is trying to kill me. If they’re trying to clean up their mess, they’ll be after Mel too.

Sean doesn’t ask who I’m texting. Instead, he comes and sits next to me on the bed. He changes the conversation. “No sex for a while, okay?” His voice is too serious to be joking.

I don’t like it. I want my Sean back, the one that’s all smiles. “Okay, but what am I supposed to do with my camel-toe couch?”

He grins and bumps his shoulder into mine. “I need to work some things out, so what happened today doesn’t reoccur. Give me a little time, if you can.” Sean has his hands clasped in front of him and is looking down. His dark hair obscures his eyes and the slant of his shoulders lets me know how upset he really is.

“Sean, I love you. I’d give you anything and everything.” I put my arm around him, but he flinches. My smile fades as I take my hand back and slip it into my lap. “No touching? Sean, talk to me. Please.” I can help you. Those are the words I so desperately want to say, but I wonder if I can. What if I can’t and I just make it worse. Whatever happened today, whatever past he slipped into is a reality that he wants to erase. But the past can’t be wiped clean. There are no do-overs and the chalk outline will always be there no matter how many times we try to wipe it away.

“One day, Avery, just not today.” He won’t lift his face. I think I finally understand what he means, although it isn’t what he says.