I shrug and voice a “Sure,” while Emily scowls in suspicion and Claire cocks her head in curiosity.
Rebecca shoves a small box across the table. I slide it open and find a charm bracelet inside. My mouth drops open slightly as Rebecca jangles her wrist at me. A near identical bracelet clinks on it.
“You said how much you liked mine, so I thought you might want one of your own.”
Emily, who’s pushed herself up beside me on my side of the booth, peers into the box and snorts.
“It’s a bit much, isn’t it?” she says.
“Maybe to you,” Rebecca replies.
Emily narrows her eyes. “What’s that meant to mean?”
I do my best. “Guys, cut it out. We’re—”
But sharp words have begun firing, and I’m not sure where the ammo is coming from. Either way, the sound of the cartridges emptying is drowning out any attempts at peacemaking. Both Rebecca andEmily have begun making digs about their respective parents’ jobs, in a strange sort of middle-class war.
I’m relieved when Harry returns from the bar with a fresh pint and a packet of crisps, offering a moment of distraction that allows the conversation to move on, tense residue left behind nonetheless. Harry is handsome in a country-boy way—tall, broad shoulders, a pretty face with rosy cheeks and unkempt hair. We hooked up on a social once, before Luca. We were incredibly drunk and never spoke of it again. I didn’t know what to do with a boy that posh and I sense he didn’t know how he’d introduce a Black girl to his “old-fashioned” parents.
He glances at his phone uncomfortably as he sets his items down next to me. It’s fleeting, but it’s me; I notice things. The conversation spills out across the table, a debate raging over what the funniest sitcom is. Is itAlways Sunny,The Office, orParks and Rec? I regurgitate my favorite Charlie Kelly one-liners as I watch Harry check his phone again, unmistakable anxiety on his forehead. He places it face down and glances at me, alarmed to see I’m already looking at him. He quickly averts his gaze and leans physically into the chat while remaining silent, an unconvincing smile on his lips.
I turn to him. “Is everything okay?” The question is quiet, whispered into his ear. The anxiety on his face is now so loud, it’s screaming. “Harry?”
He quickly looks to the group, who seem content with the raging fire of their debate, attention fully diverted. “Well, um…Would it be all right if you and I chat before you go home? Just, when the others have gone, I mean.”
It’s not what I’d been expecting. “Why? I mean, of course…. Just, like…I hope you’re okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…just better said in private. Actually, maybe if we—”
“Oh fuck.”
It’s Rebecca’s voice. My eyes dart across the table to where she sits staring at her phone.
“This is so fucked-up. What the fuck?” she continues.
Our friends on either side of her are staring down at her phone. Chris, a sandy-haired dude who spends as much time with the surf club as he does with us, is grinning. Laura, on the other side of Rebecca, looks horrified. Rebecca smacks a hand over her mouth and looks up at me. She suddenly clocks Chris’s gleeful expression and gives him a hard thump on the arm, slamming the phone face down. Perhaps it’s my naivety that doesn’t make the answer to what’s happening immediately clear.
“What’s going on?” I ask, just as Chris’s phone buzzes. “What is that?” I ask again. “Show me.”
“Nat, babe, I’m so sorry,” Rebecca says. “There’s this video going round. It says it’s you. It looks like you.”
Idiot that I am, I’m still confused. I’m not so stupid that I don’t understand the implication; I know what it means when a video of a girl is said to be doing the rounds. But it’s not possible. It’s too early for the thought of a deepfake to even cross my mind, but the fact of the matter is I’ve not recorded myself in any kind of compromising position with anyone. I don’t even send Luca nudes—I’m too worried about this exact kind of thing happening.
“Show me,” I say.
“Nat,” Harry begins, “maybe here’s not the right place to—”
“Show me,” I insist.
I’m half expecting that it’s just going to be some other Black girl—it won’t be the first time I’ve been confused for another girl on campus—but the video is worse than I could have imagined. First, it’s unmistakably me. Second, although there’s little to see bar his groin, it’s obviousto me that the other person in the video with me, the person recording, is Luca. We’re in his room, on his bed, and it’s his hand traveling across my back, grabbing at my waist and my neck intermittently as he thrusts into me. Luckily, you can’t really see my face as I’m on my knees and forearms. But if you know me, know my head of fine braids, it’s clear who I am. It’s enough. I pause the video and switch the screen off, placing the phone down gently.
As I wrestle with the swell of looming dread, I count it a small mercy that the sound was off. And then, as if life wanted to have the last laugh, I suddenly hear my voice and Luca’s voice, panting and cursing. The things he’s saying to me felt sexy and daring and hot at the time, but now they feel degrading, shameful. For a moment, I go from being the girl who sees everything to seeing nothing, totally numb. I want to climb into myself and live there, in the dark. I think perhaps I already have. It’s not until I feel the cold beer pooling in my lap, hear the deafening crash of the glasses, that I snap to and leap up.
Chris is sprawled across the pub table, nose streaming blood. His phone is smashed on the ground by my feet. Harry is being dragged out by security, and I’m under the impression that Emily must have been part of the skirmish, because she’s getting marched out, too. Rebecca is running after them, pleading Harry’s case. A couple of the girls are asking me questions in soothing tones. I can barely hear what they’re saying. My sister is beside me. Her little hand is in mine. Well, it’s not so little anymore, but it still sort of feels it, you know? And her little hand is an angry claw. Her anger is filling the space where mine should be.
“Did you know?” she’s asking, and her voice is the only one I can hear. “Did you know he was filming you?”
I shake my head. “No.”
