Page 15 of Plaything

Jimmy Erickson, the thigh fucker himself.

He strolled up to us with a big dumb smile on his face. It’d been years since I’d seen him; he’d grown a few inches. We never spoke after that night, as two awkward teenagers did. I avoided him at school, not able to look at him without shivering in disgust. He wasn’t ugly or anything—just a bad memory. Seeing him reminded me of the weight of his body on top of mine and the reek of his breath on my face as he panted.

He stopped a few feet away. “I thought that was you!” He grinned. “What have you been up to? I haven’t seen you in years,” he put his hands in his front pockets, watching me.

Uh. Were we friends? Was I missing something? We hadn’t spoken since that night. I would have avoided me if I were him, not wanting to run into anyone I knew during high school. My arm tightened around my waist. “Um, just college,” I answered vaguely, making sure it was clear I didn’t want this conversation to continue.

Wyatt shifted next to me, eyeing Jimmy suspiciously.

Jimmy nodded. “I took a two-year break after high school, but I’m hoping to start back up this spring,” he rambled about a middle-grade college and its football team. I tried to tune him out, focused on getting away.

Did I ask?

Only when he mentioned something about us I decided to tune back in. “What?” I questioned softly.

“Well, given our history, it would really help me if I could get a current photo with you or something. The state’s media will blow up again, and I could really use all the publicity. The college would totally accept my application if they know who I am.”

What. Our history? Who he was? I never considered what all that media did for him when it came out. I knew my name was being dragged, and so was my fathers. I never even questioned what it did for Jimmy. Instead of being slut shamed and slapped across the face, he was praised for it. He’d amounted to nothing after graduation and wanted to post a picture with me to get his name out there.

“No,” I said firmly but didn’t raise my voice.

He looked taken aback like he expected me to agree immediately with his selfish and stupid idea. “Why not? We’re friends, aren’t we?” He pushed his eyebrows together.

“No,” I said again.

He looked frustrated as he glared at me. “It’s just a picture. What’s the big deal? Are you really that selfish that you won’t help me?” He shrugged.

My eyes softened. Was I being selfish? In some ways, he was right. It was just a picture.

I didn’t even have social media; I laid so low that people stopped trying to get the ‘inside scoop’ on me. Truthfully, I think some reporters figured out there wasn’t much to know.

A simple photo would stir up so much controversy, though. We hadn’t seen each other in years and weren’t on the best terms. He was trying to get people to think we were together or something. Given our... past, people would probably eat that up.

No matter how selfish it made me, I couldn’t put myself through that again.

As if he noticed my hesitation, Wyatt stepped forward, towering over Jimmy and me. “It seems like you have your answer,” his eyes narrowed on Jimmy, almost threateningly. “Excuse us,” he gently turned me by my waist, his fingertips brushing against my skin.

I shivered at the touch but took my exit gratefully. We walked out of the aisle towards the register now that we collected everything we wanted.

Jimmy didn’t talk back to Wyatt; I couldn’t blame him. That was a side of him I hadn’t seen yet... and I liked it. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that threatening glare, but I liked the stern rumble in his tone.

We were quiet as we loaded the groceries in the back of my car. As I drove home, there was a silence between us, not necessarily uncomfortable, but I knew he was curious.

After a few minutes, he turned to me. “Should I ask?” He asked, the slightest hint of a joke in his tone.

I blushed, shaking my head. I was beyond embarrassed about the situation in general. I was offended that Jimmy had the nerve to ask that of me. It happened right in front of Wyatt, who would obviously have questions, which was even worse.

“Is he an ex-boyfriend?” He questioned, trying to keep his voice level, but I heard the bitterness in his tone.

I shot him a look. “No!” I rushed out.

Wyatt chuckled. “Sorry,” he tried to ease the tension. “I’m too curious, Odette,” he grinned at me. “I’m tempted to Google you.”

I pondered over this for a few seconds. He would know anyway; it might be better to get the ‘full’ story from the internet. Then, I’d explain what actually happened. “That might be easier than me explaining it,” I admitted, giving him permission.

Minutes went by as he looked at his phone. I glanced at him every few seconds, trying to gauge his reaction. His face was neutral, like he was trying not to show anything.

It was only when he clicked on the attached video that his expression changed. The video was recorded on a cellphone from someone’s front pocket. I didn’t know who took it, but I was sure they were the ones who tipped off the reporters.

---