They tell us they’re big fans and how much they enjoyed the meet and greet yesterday. One of them even boldly announces how ridiculous he thinks all the stuff about the picture of us is, and I nod in awkward agreement. Another of them apparently runs the Instagram account dedicated to memes about us andshows me one he posted of a little girl squish-hugging a tiny kitten. Over the kitten’s head, it says “Reese, a sweet baby angel” in bold letters. Over the girl’s head, it reads “Fans of Flavor protecting her at all costs.”
It’s one of those things that’s so nice and unexpected and also feels so undeserved that it’s all I can do to chuckle and tell them I appreciate the support. We continue to chat for a few minutes and pose for pictures, and I find I honestly don’t mind, as baffling as it still is that anyone is this interested in meeting us. Their friendliness is a nice distraction, and it’s also delaying the rest of the conversation I’ve decided I’d rather not have with my boyfriend.
But before long, Benny says, “Reese and I actually have to get going. We’ve been wanting to check out the gaming lounge.”
Oh, have we? I glance at him in confusion, about to protest, but then he fixes me with a stern lift of an eyebrow that may or may not give me goose bumps. There’s a voice in my head nervously trilling,He’s onto you! You’re not getting out of this that easy!
We say goodbye and give another round of hugs to our fans, then head in what I guess is the direction of the gaming lounge. Despite our strides being roughly the same length, I feel like I’m scurrying to keep up with Mr. Speed Racer. I’m about to ask if we’re actually in a rush to get to the games when he starts talking under his breath without looking at me, so quietly that I have to strain to hear.
“I’m trying to find somewhere for us to talk.”
“Can’t this wait till we—”
“Oh my God, hi!Amateur Hour,right?” The excited voice cutting me off comes from a young woman who has stopped in front of us. Out of this whole big convention, how are we running into all the fans of our little cooking show?
Beside the woman is a man who looks slightly embarrassed by the whole interaction. Maybe I can just swap him and Benny real quick, save us both from the uncomfy conversations we don’t want to have.
But since I don’t think anyone else would be on board with that idea, I smile and make small talk and take pictures with Benny and the couple, and then they’re on their way again.
“No, it can’t wait. This way.”
I make anoofsound in surprise as he takes my hand and tugs me away from the big exhibition hall, into a spacious, arcade-like room. There are a ton of huge TVs and projector screens with gaming consoles in front of them, and people are taking turns playing demos that appear to be based on UltiMedia shows—mainly their most action-packed scripted dramas. There are also arcade games and some VR headsets. My understanding of the gaming world is limited, but this seems like the fun place to be.
I don’t know what Benny’s plan is, as this does not look remotely private or quiet. But then, when I’m looking the other way, he tugs me again. I plop down into a fake car with two seats and steering wheels in front of a screen where the windshield would be.
“Um,” I say, shaking my head as I get my bearings, “what are we doing?”
Benny shifts to face me from the neighboring seat, as if we’re sitting in an actual car and about to have a meaningful conversation. “I want to continue our conversation. I want us to work through this together, and I—”
Suddenly, a head pops in through the side window. Or the hole where a side window would be. It’s attached to a man in an UltiCon staff shirt.
“Hey, man, if you’re gonna be in there, you gotta be playing the game. No loitering.”
Benny lets out a frustrated sigh, but he faces forward and nods. “Thanks, man. Got it.”
With that, Benny pushes the big red Start button on the faux dashboard. The man disappears and Benny puts his hands on the wheel to flip through the options for his car and course, gesturing for me to do the same.
I am beyond disoriented. I take my wheel and turn it to choose a green sports car and a beach town track. Then Benny hits another button to start, and okay, I guess we’re racing now?
The tiny avatar with boobs larger than her head counts down from three and waves a checkered flag. It takes me a second to remember to put my foot on the gas pedal.
As soon as both our cars are moving, Benny resumes talking.
“You were clearly upset by that guy in the demo, and the picture taken this morning. You have reason to be—and I’m mad,too.”
I scramble to find wordsandnavigate this ridiculous race car at the same time. “Are…are we really debriefing now? Right here?”
“Yes,” he says with certainty. “I know it’s thrown you off and you’re already trying to act like you can handle it on your own, but we’re not doing that. I’m on your team, remember? I want you to tell me how you’re feeling so I can help fix it.”
My car hits a mailbox. Jesus take the wheel.
“Benny, I don’t know what to say. This isn’t your fault, and I don’t think you can fix it.Oh shoot fire,there goes a pedestrian.”
I try to right my car, hoping this game has a fake ambulance and fake hospital that can help the lady I just left in my dust.
“Are you upset because people basically know we’re together now?”
“Well, yeah.” The words come out before I can stop them, and I wince at my bluntness. “I mean, it’s notjustthat. I guess if anything, I feel like I’ve had this coming from when I first started having feelings for you. Maybe by opening up that way, I’ve become more open and vulnerable in every way, and that’s all the trolls need to see—any bit of weakness—in order to pounce and use it against me.”
