I nod. “Yeah.”
He doesn’t call me on it, only kisses me again, slower this time, and lets me keep pretending I’ve got it together. The silence stretches, I push myself up and straighten my hoodie, forcing a smile. “Let’s get out of here.” They both look at me.
I grab my keys off the hook by the door. “We need to grab an air mattress, remember? You two are playing musical chairs with my bed every night, and I’m over it.”
Carter is in the passenger seat, Tate in the back and my hands have stopped shaking, mostly. They don’t say anything when I turn up the music just a little too loud.
Carter reaches over and taps his fingers once against my thigh. “You know you’re kind of a legend now, right?”
“I’m just tired.”
“Legends get tired.”
Tate mutters from the backseat, “Legends also drive faster. Some of us want dinner before midnight.”
I laugh, too quietly. I squeeze Carter’s hand a little tighter on the console. They let me pretend everything’s fine, that’s why I keep them close.
I don’t know what I expected from a Tuesday night store run, but it wasn’t a boost of ego and a secondhand embarrassment spiral.
We’ve barely made it past the front entrance when it happens. Carter’s fingers are loosely laced with mine, his thumb brushing over my knuckles every few steps. Tate is trailing behind us, hood up, hands in his pockets, the definition of I’m just here to tolerate the fluorescent lights and get this over with. I’m halfway down the home goods aisle when someone gasps.
“Oh my god… wait. Are you HavokHearts?”
I freeze.
She’s probably in her early twenties, wearing ripped jeans and a beanie.
My mouth opens. “Uh—yeah?”
“Oh my god!” she practically squeals. “I knew I recognized you. I watch your streams all the time! You’re so good! And that last match? INSANE.”
Heat floods my face. I laugh, awkward and dazed. “Thank you. That’s—wow. That’s really sweet.”
Carter squeezes my hand gently.
The girl beams. “Are you streaming again tonight?”
“I might,” I hedge, still caught somewhere between flattered and stunned. “Kinda depends on the caffeine situation.”
Tate snorts behind me.
The girl glances at Carter. “Is that your boyfriend?”
Carter grins, easy and golden retriever-charming. “Kinda.”
She tilts her head. “And… who’s he?”
Tate looks up. His eyes flick to me, then to her. Then back to the LED lights in her hand like he’s calculating how long it would take to end this conversation.
She smiles at him. “You’re hot. You look like that guy from those edits.”
Tate’s jaw ticks. Carter clears his throat. “He’s not a fan of TikTok.”
Tate deadpans, “I don’t fuck with fairy lights either.” I almost choke trying not to laugh.
The girl flushes and stammers something about watching my stream later before disappearing down the aisle. The second she’s gone, Carter nudges me with his shoulder.
“Look at you. Getting recognized. Getting flirted with by strangers and dragging TikTok into the store experience.”
