Page 34 of Stream Heat
I let that sink in. “I had no idea.”
“Most don’t. People see what they want. FPS. Trash talk. Memes.”
Like I had. That part he didn’t say, but it hung in the air.
Malik entered a few minutes later, calm and put together, the very definition of unbothered. “Morning, Quinn. Sleep okay?”
“Better than yesterday,” I said, plate already empty. “Thanks for breakfast.”
He poured himself some herbal tea. Apparently the “Sleep blend” that he used helped counteract Alpha baseline. “Figured you could use the protein. Meds work better with food.” He glanced at me, eyes assessing. “Withdrawal symptoms?”
No point lying, they’d know. “Manageable.”
My shaky hands were mostly steady now, but my senses still ran at ‘eleven.’ The scents in this house, Malik’s sandalwood and linen, Jace’s ink and snow, they were so distinct it was unsettling. Nice, but distracting. The part of me that was supposed to be controlled and professional wasn’t okay with any of it.
I tried to redirect before they started diagnosing me. “What’s the streaming schedule today?”
“Jace at nine for quiet block,” Malik said, sipping his tea. “I’m off until community session at seven. Theo goes on at noon. Ash is in the garage most of the day, rig building.”
“And Reid?” The name slipped out, and I hated myself for how fast I’d asked.
Malik’s lips twitched. “Evening tactical stream. Usually starts around eight.”
I nodded, running the math. “And where do I fit in?”
“Wherever you want.” Malik shrugged, like it was the most obvious thing ever. “We’re not dictating your content schedule, Quinn.”
“Right. The business arrangement.” I’d meant to soften it, but it came out sharp, all edge and no padding. “I just need to know when the shared spaces are ours or off-limits.”
They exchanged a look I couldn’t read, practiced, or maybe just used to communicating without words.
“Content calendar’s on the fridge,” Jace said finally, nodding toward a big whiteboard by the pantry. “Blocks are color-coded.”
I walked over, eyeing the neat grid. Jace’s morning sessions were in blue. Theo’s chaos afternoons in orange. Ash’s build windows in grey, scattered wherever there were open slots. Malik’s mindfulness or community in green. Reid’s tactical stuff blazing in red late at night. And there, in purple, a chunk labeled “Quinn” which was empty.
“You left it open,” I said, not a question.
“Told you.” Malik’s voice was steady. “Your schedule, your rules. We’re just here for the platform and collab.”
There was a weird flicker in my chest, some mix of relief and surprise. Even with everything spinning, there was space on that board waiting to be filled. My choice. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given me that.
“I used to stream evenings,” I said. “But the new med schedule–”
“Afternoons,” Malik suggested, kindly. “Less fatigue, more focus. Transitional adjustment.”
It made sense. I picked up the purple marker and blocked off 2–4 PM. Done. It felt strange, like trespassing on someone else’s careful order, but also… kind of right.
“What about joint streams with you guys?” Marker still in hand, I lingered.
“We figured you’d want to start with one-on-ones,” Jace said, softer now. “See what clicks.”
“Reid thinks you and Theo are a good first match,” Malik added. “Viewers like your banter.”
The idea of going live for three hours with chaos incarnate was both terrifying and… honestly? Kind of appealing. Theo was like a caffeine IV, loud, exhausting, but impossible not to get swept up in.
“Fine.” I wrote in tomorrow’s block,Q + T: Co-op. It was vague, but at least it was noted down. “But I want to see the content plan before the stream.”
“Of course.” Malik nodded, as if that were obvious. “It’s your brand too.”
