The headset was snug over my ears, my fingers dancing across the keys, completely zoned in. Another match, another enemy down. My killstreak was climbing. God, I was on fire tonight. The flashing lights of my monitor painted soft neon across my dark room, and the only sound in the world was gunfire, rapid clicks, and the occasional curse muttered under my breath.

I didn’t even hear the door creak open.

“Babe?” Her voice sliced through the chaos of the game like a knife.

I flinched. “Jesus—you scared me.”

When I turned, there she was. She wasn’t supposed to be here, not now. Not while I was mid-rank climb. But there she stood, arms crossed in her hoodie, eyes squinting at me like I’d just committed a personal crime.

“I’ve been calling you,” she said, walking in and closing the door behind her. “You ghosted me for a video game.”

I opened my mouth to say something clever—maybe blame the matchmaking timer—but the way she looked at me, pouty and clearly starved for affection, made every witty excuse I had shrivel up and die.

“I'm sorry,” I mumbled, pausing the game. “I got caught up in the lobby and—hey, what are you doing?”

She didn’t answer. She just climbed right onto my lap, swung her leg over me like this was her throne, and sat down. I blinked up at her, stunned. Her hands hooked behind my neck.

“Now I’ve got your attention,” she said smugly, grinning like she just beat the final boss of me.

I laughed—low, guilty, charmed all at once. “You really gonna sit here while I game?”