Page 29 of Next Level Up
She mutes her mic, face turning toward me, just slightly. “You okay?”
I don’t answer. I’m watching her talk to people whodon’t know her. People who think they do. Who see the funny, flirty, powerful version of her and assume that’s the whole picture. It’s not. I clench my jaw behind the mask.
Carter says something to the stream about a break or hydration check, and it makes her smile again.
I don’t hear it. All I can hear is the sound of her voice, not saying my name. The stream ends clean, with one final round of chaos in chat and a promise from Haven to go live again soon.
Carter shuts his laptop with a little satisfied sigh. “That went well.”
Haven stretches her arms overhead and groans. “If by ‘well’ you mean I carried both of your personalities on my back for three hours, then yeah. Excellent.”
I don’t say anything as I pull my mask off and set it down beside my water bottle on the night stand. My face still feels hot beneath it.
The stream’s off and Carter’s heading out of the room like he’s on autopilot headed toward the kitchen like his body knows it needs fuel before his brain catches up.
I follow. Mostly because I need water. And space.
We drift into the kitchen without saying much. Haven’s digging through a cabinet looking for a snack. Carter leans against the counter, fidgeting with her fridge magnets.
I glance toward the hall and mutter “I need to bring my tower next time. That laptop setup is fucking punishment.”
Carter snorts into the fridge. “I told you that thing is ancient.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well never again.”
She moves around the kitchen as if she didn’t just hold every part of my attention hostage for hours. I rinse my water bottle in the sink just to have something to do. The rush of the faucet doesn’t drown it out—the sound of her laughter, the echo of hervoice, the faint burn still crawling up my spine from how close she sat, from how far she felt.
She’s slicing potatoes, tossing them in a pan with butter and garlic, the smell wrapping around me like something I didn’t ask for but need anyway.
Carter’s by the fridge, digging for drinks. “You want a soda or…?”
“Caffeine,” I say. He tosses me a can of something citrusy. I catch it one-handed.
Haven glances back. “Ghost gets grumpy when he’s hungry. Noted.”
I meet her eyes, slow and deliberate. “Ghost gets grumpy when people flirt with what’s his.”
The moment hangs long enough for Carter to pause mid-pour and for her to look down at the pan like it might rescue her.
She doesn’t push it. Instead, she finishes cooking in silence, her posture softer now.
We eat together on the couch, plates balanced on knees, casual commentary about how terrible Carter is at knife mechanics in-game, Haven snorting soda when he calls himself her “support main boyfriend.”
I stay quiet. Mostly. I’m watching her again. Always watching.
10
Carter
Isip my coffee slow, watching the way Haven hums to herself as she ties her hoodie around her waist and digs through the mess of her entryway closet. She’s in her element. Loud, bright, and so present.
Meanwhile, I’m just… existing. On her couch, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do with all the feelings eating me alive. Tate’s the one to bottle these kinds up, not me.
“So,” I ask, trying to sound casual, “what’s there to do around here?”
She pops her head out of the closet with a grin. “What, you mean besides streaming, eating greasy food, and driving the two of you insane?”
I smile, but it feels a little tight. “Yeah. Just figured… bigger town than ours, more to see.”
