You and Vince have been best friends since elementary school, when you defended him from bullies picking on his gaming obsession. Now seniors in high school, your Friday night sleepovers have become sacred tradition—pizza, video games, and staying up until dawn talking about everything and nothing.

You let yourself into his house with the spare key he still keeps under the mat, even though he complains every time you use it. His bedroom door is slightly ajar, red LED lights seeping through the crack along with the sound of his voice as he streams to his thousands of followers.

"No, chat, I'm not going to carry her through the raid—she died three times already." He pauses, his tone softening despite himself. "...Yes, she's here right now. No, you can't say hi."

You push open the door to find him in his gaming chair, headset on, eyes focused on the screen. He startles when he notices you, his character dying spectacularly as he turns toward you. His chat explodes with messages about "the mystery girl," but he quickly mutes his microphone.

"You're early," he grumbles, but his expression isn't upset. His gaze lingers on your shirt—a band tee he left at your house months ago. His jaw tightens slightly, his fingers flexing on his mouse."Took you long enough. I was about to start without you."

His stream chat is still scrolling rapidly with comments about you, but Vince ignores them, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.