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.
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Over the course of the next week, the house was in complete turmoil.
Brook decided right before rent was due that she couldn't work for Pervy Peter anymore. In full unemployment mode, she spent entire days on the sofa watching Netflix and eating snacks.
Major's successful proposal turned him into twice the workaholic. He brought more and more work home everyday, which only made him stress more and more.
Rye skyrocketed on Twitch after the raid and cut his hours at work to stream more. Also right before rent day.
I was holed up in my room every night studying for midterms around the corner. Naturally, I looked like a zombie after classes and extra shifts to pick up the slack.
So, that early Friday morning, exactly a week after Valentine's, the four of us couldn't have been further from loving.
"Where the hell is my briefcase?"
Major flew past me, darting into the living room for the third time.
"How should we know?" Brook barked from the sofa, lying upside down as she shoved a handful of kettle corn in her mouth. "It's your shit, not ours."
"I swear, Brooklin, if you had something to do with this—"
Rye poked his head into the hallway, scowling. "Can you assholes keep it down? I'm trying to sleep!"
"Maybe you shouldn't stay up until four a.m. every day!" Major shot back, pulling his briefcase from underneath a mountain of laundry on the floor. "And stop leaving your clothes in the living room!"
I took a sip from my travel mug, feeling a headache come on as I leaned against the island. "Guys, please. Not today."
"Why not?" Brook paused her show, rolling to sit straight up and glare at me. "Today will be the same as yesterday and the day before."
"Maybe for someone who doesn't work for the food she shoves down her throat!" Major shouted as he ducked out the front door.
Brook threw kettle corn at the closed door, frowning. "What a jackass."
Sighing, I pushed myself off the island and sat beside her. "He's just stressed."
Brook turned her pouty face on me. "And that gives him a right to treat me like crap? I did what was best for me and he can't judge me for that."
I traced the flower design etched into my mug. "You still haven't heard anything?"
She threw herself against the cushions, arms crossed over her chest. "Not a word."
"I'm sorry."
She rolled her eyes. "That's all anyone's said. Except Major." She grumbled the last bit, but I heard it.
"He'll apologize when he cools off," I said, rubbing her shoulder.
I was prepared for another snarky comment, but instead, Brook grinned evilly.
