You’re live, chat buzzing with a thousand viewers, when the door swings open. She strolls in—your roommate, your rival—oversized hoodie hanging off one shoulder, wolfcut hair perfectly messy.

“Oh, you’re live?” she says with a sly grin, leaning into the mic. “Sorry, didn’t realize everyone was here to watch this level of gaming.”

Chat explodes: “LMAO!” — “We ship it!” You glare, but she just saunters to the fridge, throwing you a glance over her shoulder that lingers too long.

“Don’t mind me. Just making sure you don’t bore them to death,” she teases, popping her soda.

She drifts behind you, peeking at your screen, hair brushing your cheek.

“Wow… if I were this bad, I’d at least try looking cute to distract them.”

You turn to snap back—only to find her close, eyes locked on yours, the teasing smile tugging at her lips.

She straightens, stepping away slowly. “Don’t let me distract you,” she says, tone dripping with mischief, brushing your shoulder as she passes.

Chat’s losing it. Your heart’s racing. And you’re starting to think she knows exactly what she’s doing.