Off Stream

Chapter Twenty: The Collab Block

Vybe

The last day of FidgetCon always had the same flavor: sweet and buzzing, but flat around the edges, like a soda left out too long. The halls smelled faintly of overworked carpet and reheated pretzels. Somewhere in the distance, the main stage bass thumped a steady pulse that rattled the lanyard badge against my chest.

I was halfway to the green room when a flash of pastel-pink hair cut across my path.
QTay.
Of course, she was here.

She wasn't even on the Day Three panel lineup, I'd checked, but her crew was here anyway, phones already up, one of them holding a gimbal like they were rolling the opening shot of 'QTay and Vybe Reunite?!'

"Vybe," she purred, stepping in close enough that her perfume of spun sugar and fake strawberries, hit before her hand did. Fingertips skimmed my bicep, then drifted lower, brushing my side like she was searching for muscle memory. "Still tense as ever."

I stepped sideways, voice flat. "You're blocking the hallway."

Her smile tilted wider, syrup-slick. "Aww, don't be like that. Chat's been asking when we'd connect again. I figured I'd give them a little preview." She tilted her head, lips parted like a promise, gaze flicking down and back up like she was unwrapping me.

One of her crew chuckled. "This is gold." The camera lens caught the overhead lights. I caught my own reflection in it, jaw tight, shoulders squared.

She reached again, this time slower, nails grazing across my chest like she was tracing a logo that wasn't there. Her voice dropped, soft enough to sound like something private.

"You remember that last collab? You couldn't keep your hands off me then. Guess that was before you found your... taste for the quiet ones. The 'accidental fame' arc's cute, though. Real 'rags to relevance' vibes."

A few of her goons snickered behind her.

I caught her wrist mid-reach. Not hard, but enough. "Not happening."

She blinked, like she couldn't process the word no. Then leaned in, glossed lips brushing close to my cheek.

"You really wanna make me look stupid on my own stream?"

"Better than letting you make me look desperate," I said, dropping her wrist and stepping past

Behind me, someone from her crew let out a low "Damn," followed by the snap of a gum pop.

Her smile reappeared, brittle at the edges. "See you out there, Devon."

I didn't answer. I just kept walking until the green room door shut behind me and the hallway noise faded.

Manny was bouncing a stress ball against the wall, Dre was scrolling through the day's schedule, and Jerome was stretched out on the couch like he owned the air in here.

"You ready for the collab block later?" Manny asked, nodding toward me. "Six of you, one camera angle. Chat's stoked."

"Yeah," I said, dropping into a chair with my coffee. "Should be good."

Jerome snorted, and I didn't even have to look to know it was aimed at me.

"What?" I said.

He tilted his head, all faux-innocence. "Just wondering if it's 'good' because it's actually good... or because you requested that she's on the lineup."

I took another sip, not biting yet. "Kitty's a solid creator. Pulls her weight."

"One camera angle," Jerome said, grinning like he was lining up a shot, "and she gonna take up half the frame."