Cam Girl

Play the ace.

All the truth in me gathered in my lungs, rose, and let itself loose into the world.

“I lied to the police. I lied to Ellis. I lied to everyone. Even myself.”

My voice was as soft as the snowflakes crashing against our lips and eyelashes. A hundred small impacts of crystallized sky on skin.

“I was driving, Max. And I caused the accident. On purpose.”

The night of the crash, the sky was a clear black salted with stars. Our first winter in Maine. We spent most of it in bed watching Netflix and ravishing takeout seafood and each other. When a college friend invited me to a party down the coast, I spent hours cajoling Ellis.

“Come on, hermit. It’ll be fun.” I pi

“This is technically coercion,” she gasped, laughing.

I tickled harder. “Tell me when it becomes torture.”

“Vada. I can’t. Breathe.”

I stopped tickling and kissed her. In a second the mood shifted and she pulled me close. One hand slid under my shirt. She raked her nails across my back and arched against me, her leg between mine. It was the kind of kiss that led to coming completely undone. I had to tear my mouth away.

“We could stay in tonight,” she murmured.

Tempting. Ever since we’d come to Maine, we’d been different. More intense. Like new lovers, shyer in some ways but bolder in others, pushing our boundaries farther. We didn’t know anyone here. We could be ourselves, or whoever we wanted to be. Blank canvases.

I pecked her cheek and jumped off the bed. “I’m going stir-crazy. Let’s go out. Just for one night.”

In the car I put on K.Flay and sang along. Ellis breathed on her window, tracing words in the steam. HELP ME. ABDUCTED BY BAD SINGER. Jokingly, I threatened to wreck the car. She rubbed out the words and breathed on the glass again. I YOU.

“You big softie,” I said, but my pulse skipped. “I heart you, too.”

The house sprawled along the shore, bordered by a cracked stone jetty. We walked the grounds for a while, misty scarves of breath trailing after us. Ellis needed to drink in the quiet as a reservoir for social interaction. My poor introvert. Inside, I introduced her to people from my master’s program. She smiled sweetly, tolerated our long obscure art convos without complaint. She even got into a discussion with some kids about re-creating famous works of art in Minecraft, made my friends laugh by coining the phrase “Yves Klein Blue Screen of Death.” She was charming and adorable and perfect. But when I came back from the bathroom I found her out on the deck, tucked into a fold of shadow, shivering. She stared forlornly at the beating waves.

“What’s wrong?” I touched her shoulder. “Pajarito. You look so blue.”

“Nothing.”

She shrugged me off and took out the vaping pen, which was Ellis-speak for Go away.

Prodding would only raise her hackles higher. I fiddled with the buttons on my coat. The clean air turned a spicy balsam, that forest essence that was so her.

“Please talk to me,” I said finally.

She looked at me askance, struggling not to cry. “Every single person we met, you said, ‘This is my friend, Ellis.’ You introduced me as your friend.”

Fuck. This again.

“You are my friend, Elle.”

“We’re way more than friends.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have a good word for it. It’s complicated. And random strangers don’t need to know our personal business.”

“Just admit you don’t want people to see you that way.”

“What way?”

“With me. As my girlfriend.”

I grabbed the porch railing, glowering into the night. “Because of my internalized homophobia, right? Because I secretly hate the fact that I’m bi. Blah, blah, blah. So not having this argument again.”

“You don’t hate it. But you want guys to see you as available.”

“What are you even talking about?”

“You were flirting with that guy. Nick.”

I rolled my eyes. “God forbid I speak to a man, or I’m suddenly leaving you.”

“Then why? If it’s serious, why don’t you take it seriously? Why don’t you tell people who I really am to you?”

Ellis was too good at pushing my buttons. At getting me to spit out the nasty truth.

“Because who the fuck are you to me? I don’t even know.” The wood creaked under my hands. I could’ve shredded the house into tinder. “I’m not fucking gay, okay? It’s not that simple for me. You know exactly who you are and what you want in life. I don’t.”

“You know why you never tell anyone we’re together?” She looked madder than I’d ever seen her, which was rare enough. “Because it’s temporary for you. You’re just using me till you find your perfect Prince Charming. That’s all I am. Your surrogate boyfriend.”

It hurt. I needed to strike back.

“You’re not much of a boyfriend, are you?” I said.

Ellis set the pen down on the railing. Then she turned and walked back into the house.

“Fuck,” I muttered, picking the pen up. Still warm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Me and my goddamn mouth.

When I found her inside a while later, she held a red cup and stood in a group, laughing uproariously at a story some girl told with finger puppets.

So it was like that, then. Fine.

I could play Ellis Carraway tonight.

I sulked in a corner, head down over a warm beer, radiating a black cloud of misanthropy. People avoided me. I stared daggers at anyone Ellis paid attention to. When she switched rooms, I followed. How does it feel? I thought. How do you like the jealous, insecure, clingy girlfriend act?

A cute girl started talking to her, and they drifted apart from the others.

My hand tightened on the beer bottle.

It feels like shit, I answered myself. No one should be made to feel this way.

I’d had one sip all night. Couldn’t drink. Something dark and poisonous bubbled in my chest.

The other girl touched Ellis’s arm, smiling.

I was on my feet before I realized it, slinging my arm around my best friend’s shoulders. My smile was hard.

“Hi,” I said loudly to the stranger. “Nice to meet you. I’m Elle’s girlfriend. Life partner. Lover. We haven’t really settled on a word yet, have we, baby?”

The other girl blinked. Ellis turned riot pink.

“Excuse us, please.”

She crossed the house and I followed. Ellis kept moving, making me feel like a hunter giving chase. When we passed an empty bathroom I yanked her inside and slammed the door.

“What is your problem?” she said.

Tequila, heavy on her breath.

“You are my problem.” I wrapped my hand around her jaw. “What do you want, huh? Want me to go out there and declare it to the whole fucking party? Tell them we sleep in the same bed? That I fuck you in it every night?”

I drove a leg between hers and held her against the door and she gasped, eyelashes fluttering.

“Do I need to fuck you right here?” I growled.

I kept her jaw in my hand. The other unbuttoned her jeans, tugged at the fly. When she fought me off I lurched back.

What the hell were we doing?

I went to the sink, flipped on the cold water. Ellis hurled herself at me.

One hand snared in my hair, twisting. I cried out in pain. Her other palm clapped over my mouth. I stared at her in the mirror, shocked.

“Like this?” she hissed. “Is this what you like? Is this what turns you on?”

Now I fought her. She clung to me, our limbs tangling. We stumbled to the wall. Her eyes were glassy, whether from alcohol or tears I couldn’t tell.

“This is what you want, right, baby? A girl to share your life with, but a guy to fuck you. Wouldn’t it be so much easier if I was a real boy?”