Page 35 of Stream Heat
There was no mocking, no “just go with the flow.” They were actually taking me seriously, and that felt more disorienting than the new house, the new rules, the walking-on-eggshells feeling.
The front door banged open. Theo exploded into the kitchen, breathless, wearing shorts and a neon tank top that looked like a ten-year-old had designed it. He carried a storm of scent: green tea, cut with ozone.
“Morning, losers! And Quinn!” He grinned, eyes scanning the kitchen. “Damn, you’re vertical before noon. Wild.”
“Some of us don’t need to run at dawn,” I shot back.
“You should try it!” He took a huge bite of apple, juice dribbling down his hand. “Best thing for withdrawal, trust me. Gets the toxins out.”
“I’ll stick with the doctor.”
“Boring, but fair.” He leaned in to stare at the board. “Ooooh, streaming together tomorrow? Hell yes. I’ve got so many ideas.”
“Nothing intense,” Malik warned. “Quinn’s still adjusting.”
“No problem,” Theo waved him off. “I was thinking that new horror co-op. Quinn can backseat while I play, then we swap.”
It wasn’t a bad plan. Lower stakes. Easy banter for chat. And Theo’s audience wouldn’t eat me alive on a first collab.
“I’m game,” I admitted.
Theo’s smile was like a sunrise, too bright, a little too much, but I had to admire it. “Awesome! It’s a date!”
“It’s a stream,” I corrected him.
“A stream date,” he insisted, brow waggling. “I’ll bring snacks.”
Before I could get caught up in the joke, heavy steps thundered down the stairs. Reid walked in, freshly showered, hair wet, sweatpants slung indecently low. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. If the medication was working, it was news to me because my brain bluescreened at the sight. His scent was a wall, all cedar and summer storm. It hit so hard I had to fight to keep my face neutral.
“Morning,” he rumbled, voice gravelly. He went straight for the coffee. “Didn’t expect you up early, Quinn.”
“Medication,” I answered, trying not to let my eyes linger on water dripping from his chest. “Some of us don’t sleep till noon.”
“Four AM, actually.” He poured his coffee into a mug that saidALPHA AFin block letters. I kind of wanted to throw it at his head and also keep it for myself. “Insomnia. Noisy brain.”
He looked at me with a weight that brought back the memory of yesterday’s stream, the charge in the air when he said “inevitable.” My scent began to trickle through the room and I had to force myself to think about moldy bread in order to get myself back on track and not start perfuming all over the place.
“The board’s shaping up.” He nodded at it. “Joint block with Theo?”
“Yep,” Theo confirmed, still chewing. “Horror game. Minimal effort, maximum content.”
“Smart.” Reid’s gaze pinned me. “Let me know if you want to schedule one with me. I’ve got a few tactical ideas.”
The implication of going solo with that intensity on camera again made my heart stutter. I tried, and failed, to sound casual. “I’ll let you know.”
“No rush.” He was easy about it, but the undertone, the storm in his scent, the restlessness, made my inner Omega do something embarrassing. “We’ve got time.”
Six months, to be exact. Six months of content, six months of pretending we were just business partners, six months of fighting off biological responses like it was my full-time job.
I stood abruptly, nearly dumping my coffee. “I should, uh, get prepped for my stream.”
“Need a hand with setup?” Reid offered again. “Ash mentioned your acoustics–”
“I’ve got it,” I said too quickly. I needed out of there, away from his scent and the heat rising under my skin. “Thanks though.”
I holed up in my room and leaned against the closed door, heart jackhammering. Ridiculous. I was an Omega coming off industrial-grade suppressants, fine, but this was getting pathetic. I told myself to pull it together.
Deep breaths. Focus. Just focus.
