Somehow, I knew Lila would be waiting for me. The door to her room is already open and she's on her feet, hands planted on her hips, glare focused on her laptop resting on the desk.
Her head snaps up when I tap on the doorframe.
"You!" She stalks forward, grabs a fistful of my shirt, and hauls me into the room with so much unprecedented strength that all I can do is give in to it.
I stumble inside, frowning down at the wrinkled fabric left behind by her fist, and wait while she steps around me to close the door.
Because whatever she's about to say to me requires privacy, it seems.
I turn to face her, backing away slightly as she clenches her hands into fists at her sides.
There's something especially charming about her when she's pissed off.
And yet, at the same time, I'm a little bit scared.
"You!" she snarls again. "What the hell were you thinking, Noah? Live-streaming without even checking with me first? I'm the public relations expert here, okay? I'm the one calling the shots for this campaign! Not you!"
"I just thought—"
"You didn't think at all! Do you know how many people tuned in to that stream once word spread about what you were actually putting on display?"
"Um, like, a lot—"
"A lot of fucking people, Noah! Eighty-two thousand people!"
I have to clutch the headboard of the twin-size bed frame to steady myself at that.
"What? How is that possible?"
"You have a lot of followers, genius, and word spreads fast in the digital age." Lila lets out a loud huff, glaring up at the ceiling.
"Do you have any idea how bad this could have been? I mean, never mind the fact that tens of thousands of people just watched you lose track of a kid who ran right back into a burning building... a kid, Noah. A minor. And you broadcasted him—and his family's entire nightmare—without their consent. These are real people whose home was burning down, not content for views."
Technically, I didn't let him—he slipped away in the chaos. But I'm capable of taking accountability here.
I should have been paying attention for longer than just a couple of seconds once I delivered the boy into his dad's arms. The guy's home was on fire, his family in danger; he's not trained for this shit like I am. I should've had it handled.
And yet, if the boy hadn't run back inside, that puppy would probably not have made it...
"Not to mention that you showed these people's address and apartment number!" Lila is still lecturing. "That's a major breach of privacy!"
I step forward, placing my hands on Lila's shoulders and staring down at her in hopes that direct eye contact might convince her of how earnest I'm being.
"Listen, Lila. You're right. I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to help." I close my eyes and let out a long breath. I'm physically exhausted from the fire, but the adrenaline has me mentally wired. "How bad is it?"
"Look," she simply says, gesturing toward her laptop.
I let go of her and glance down at the screen, where a breaking news bulletin has taken over the home page of a local news station's website.
Blaze in Chinatown now spread to two residential buildings—updates forthcoming.
Underneath that, I'm mentioned by name.
Station 47's Ltn. Trent livestreams emergency response, revealing careless endangerment of young child.
"What? Careless endangerment? They can't be serious."
"And look at this," Lila says, holding up her phone. It's open to TikTok, where, after barely one hour, clips from the stream have already been compiled into a choppily edited report that shows, for the most part, a screaming child and my failed attempts to wrangle him.
