Page 7 of Push My Buttons
I lean against the counter, taking a second to breathe. My shift isn’t over for another four hours, but mentally? I’m already gone.
Tonight, I won’t be Vanta. Not after last night.
Instead, I texted Lorna this morning and let her know I wouldn’t be logging on from home tonight. Not after those messages. Not after that photo. She was surprisingly chill about it—told me to come into the studio tomorrow instead. Said the subscribers won’t care, since they love the occasional change of scenery. Better lighting, better angles, less chance of someone watching me through a goddamn window.
So no lace and wig tonight.
Instead, I’ll game.
It’s been a few days since I’ve logged in, and honestly? I miss it. I miss the chaos. The adrenaline. The competitive shit-talking. I even miss the guys I usually play with—the ones who have no idea who I really am. Who only know me as Silence,the mute sniper who carries their sorry asses through raids and leaves without a word.
Gaming feels safer. Detached. And right now, I need that.
But still—maybe, just maybe—those same voices I hear at the café will drift into my headset. Low. Familiar. That same edge of recognition I keep trying to ignore.
Comforting in a way that should probably terrify me.
But for now?
I’m already counting down the hours until I get to hide again behind pixels and shadows and everything I’ve built to keep the world from seeing the cracks.
I slap on another fake smile and glance at Maya, who catches my expression and signs,“Those two are totally into you.”
I scoff and sign back.“Please. They're just here for caffeine and sarcasm.”
She grins. “Yeah, but they come back for the pink-haired barista who doesn’t take their shit. I’m telling you—Jace looks at you like you’re a math problem he secretly wants to solve. And Theo? That boy is one unanswered question away from writing you poetry.”
I roll my eyes so hard I nearly sprain something. “You’ve officially watched too many rom-coms.”
Maya winks. “Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
I pause for a beat, then sign: “You mean like that yoga guy who keeps asking for your number? Or the hedge fund dude who leaves you poems with his receipts?”
She blushes, swats at me, and signs back:“They’re harmless. And besides, they flirt with both of us. Maybe we’re just a hot barista duo.”
“More like chaos and caffeine incarnate,”I reply with a smirk.
Maya giggles and flicks a sugar packet at me."Whatever. All I’m saying is, if they ever come in on the same day and a fight breaks out, I’m filming it for content."
“You’d go viral for sure,”I sign back with a grin.
She leans in closer and whispers, "But seriously… you ever wonder what they’re really thinking when they look at you like that?"
I shrug, but my stomach knots again.
Because yeah.
I do.
Sometimes I wonder if they know who I really am.
If they’ve put the pieces together. If they’re watching me too closely. If they recognize something I’ve spent the last year trying to erase.
That’s totally normal, right? Definitely not suspicious. Absolutely, perfectly fine.
If I say it enough times, maybe it’ll even be true.
And the worst part isn’t the fear.
