Now, he’s not just a name in my chat or a voice in my ear, he’s about to be on-screen, in front of an audience that only knows him as the guy who’s been following me around online for a year. And he wants to be more than that.

I watch him exhale, his fingers tapping against his keyboard, his leg bouncing slightly where he sits. I reach over, pressing a hand to his knee, feeling the way he stills under my touch. “You’re fine,” squeezing gently. “It’s just like when we game. You don’t even have to talk much, just play and get comfortable.”

He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Easy for you to say. You’ve been doing this forever.”

I grin. “Yeah, and now you get to join me.”

Before he can respond, the door creaks open, and I already know who it is before I even turn my head. He pauses just behind Carter’s chair, glancing at the monitor before flicking his gaze to his twin, lips curling in a lazy smirk.

“Look at you, little brother, finally stepping into the spotlight.”

Carter lets out a sharp breath through his nose, his grip tightening on the mouse. “Fuck off, Tate.”

Tate just grins, “Nah, this is big. We should celebrate.” He gestures vaguely. “I’ll throw you a channel raid. Get you some followers. Boost your ego a little.”

I perk up at that, shifting slightly in my chair. “I can send some people over too. Get you a solid start.”

Carter glances between us, like he doesn’t quite know how to react to the idea of being pushed into the public eye so quickly. Because that’s exactly what’s happening. He’s not just logging in anymore, not just lurking in my chat, not just ‘Haven’s biggest fan’ like half of my followers know him as.

Tate leans against Carter’s chair, arms folded, head tilted slightly, smirking like he already knows what he’s about to say is going to stir something up. “If you wanna help Carter, you can come in my room,” he offers casually, nodding toward the hallway. “I’ve got a second setup.”

Carter stills, his fingers halting mid-tap against the keyboard, his jaw clenching.

He shoots Tate a look, one that’s half suspicion, half irritation. Tate acting helpful? That’s new. I glance between them, weighing my options.