chance meeting,
love lasting.
on a seemingly normal night, a famous creator raids a smaller streamer and sets off a chain of events that lead him to his dream girl.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
His smile lit up the room, his personality magnetic. He captivated the world around him with his laugh. He was perfect in every way.
And he belonged to my best friend.
Compared to the raging fire of a crush that burned when we were kids, how I felt about Rye now was a flickering flame—noticeable in the darkness, yet completely missed in the light. Moments like these, when he radiated joy and comfort, my heart betrayed me and fanned the flame. But, for Brook's sake, I only let it burn myself.
I sat by his side, watching him interact with the thousands of people that tuned in to listen to him. The YouTube video on my phone continued to play in my ears, but my attention was captivated by Ryan Gardner.
He adjusted his headphones, brown curls spilling into his eyes as he grinned into the camera. His mouth moved, but I couldn't make out the words until he looked straight at me.
I yanked my earbuds out, catching my name only. "Sorry, Rye, what?"
"Water, please."
He got me to do anything with his lopsided, dimpled grin. Including being his "get-it girl" while he streamed.
I pushed myself off the floor, dusting my leggings. "Sure! Anything else?"
He shook his head, reaching for a button on his keyboard and returning to his audience.
Careful to hide my face, I ducked out of the room, heading for the kitchen down the hall. Rye never kept enough snacks and water in his office, despite how much time he spent in it. He claimed that he didn't have to because the kitchen was so close, but I knew it was because he had me doing his bidding when I was home.
With a cold water bottle in hand, I slipped back into Rye's office. I caught a glimpse of the chat logs as I set it on the coaster in the corner of his desk. Dozens of questions about "that girl" flooded the chat, as they always did when I made an accidental appearance.
Rye winked at me as he reached for the bottle. "C'mon, chat, focus. Serious 'would you rather' questions, please," he said, chuckling.
I settled into the bean bag chair beside his desk, rewinding at least five minutes in my video. I put my earbuds back in and Rye's voice faded once again.
Rye didn't ask for anything else until Brook came home almost thirty minutes later, barging through the front door and commanding the whole house's attention.
I met her outside the office, shooting her a glare and reminding her that Rye was live.
Brook rolled her eyes, pursing her lips unapologetically and stomping into the kitchen. "I got cussed out today!"
"Did someone's room get swapped again?" I asked her in the living room while she stood at the island, pouring herself wine.
"Someone didn't have enough towels," she ground out, looking between her quarter-filled glass and the wine bottle in her hand. Huffing, she tipped the remainder of the bottle into her glass, almost overfilling it. "I seriously don't get paid enough to deal with this. I didn't slave away in college to be stuck as someone's doormat receptionist."
