“I won’t,” I promised, hoping like heck I wasn’t lying because the absolute last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. Especially right then when what I really wanted was to get better at kissing him senseless. And better at…everything when it came right down to it. I’d decided at some point in the last few weeks that I wasn’t going to settle for spending the rest of my life as a loser. I wanted more, and that meant finally being willing to crack that closet door and let a little fresh air into that dank, windowless space that had been my home for far too long.

“Jasper! You made it. We’re about to start filming.” An older man wearing a Gamer Grandpa T-shirt under a thick cardigan opened the door after Jasper rang the bell. “Thanks for meeting here. My old bones haven’t been getting around as well these days.”

Leaning heavily on his cane, he moved aside for us to enter.

“I don’t know about old. You look ready to kick some Odyssey butt, Professor Tuttle.” Jasper had a big smile for the man, then gestured as me. “This is Milo. He’s the friend who’s been playing Prince Neptune with our group.”

I almost preened at having graduated to friend. And I supposed “Milo the guy I’ve been sending racy fan-art drawings to and kissing good night” didn’t especially roll off the tongue, even if it was maybe more accurate. But friend meant I was doing something right—and also meant there was more at stake if I screwed up.

“Welcome.” Professor Tuttle nodded at me. “We’ve got plenty of food for after we film. I assume you play?”

“A little.” I had at least learned something recently: not to brag about my skills playing a game that most of these people probably had played for a decade or more.

“Good, good. We won’t put you in front of the camera. Yet.” His sly wink made me smile. I followed him and Jasper to the rear of the house. We tossed our coats onto a pile on a bench in the hall before entering an impressively renovated kitchen that smelled like enchiladas and made me forget to be nervous about meeting new people.

Another older gentleman with a red apron and salt-and-pepper hair placed a steaming tray of rice on the counter. I guessed he was Professor Herrera, Professor Tuttle’s husband, even before the introductions were made.

“Call me Julio,” he said breezily. “And help yourself to a drink.”

“What can I help you with?” I asked, ignoring the cooler of drinks on the floor at the end of the island. Jasper and the professor had started talking filming specifics for their vlog episode, drifting toward the dining room where I could hear Kellan’s deeper voice amid some unfamiliar ones.