Page 84 of Bro Amazing

I could solve my living situation problem though. I need a new place to hide from my parents, and a base to keep my newfound career going from.

Searching through all of the rental listings in Chicago, even moving to the very edges, practically an hour away from the city proper, I come to the conclusion that living alone will be impossible. Even as my royalties increase, I won't receive any of those profits for at least two months. And I'm not even sure ifthis level of sales is sustainable. This is all probably a fluke, and in a month my sales will be back to their normal pittance.

Moving to a different city crosses my mind again. There's nothing holding me to Chicago. I don't have any boyfriends, and the only person I thought was my close friend actually doesn't care about me. My critique partners are good, but I could find new ones who are just as awesome in any other decently-sized city.

A new city also wouldn't remind me of places I've gone with my ex-boyfriends. I wouldn't be constantly holding my breath, expecting them to come around a corner at any moment even though they rarely leave the house.

I'd miss that house though. The old rambling style that's quintessential Chicago. Living close to public transport and knowing where everything is.

Somehow as my thoughts travel down this path, my fingers type in our address, and I'm already on street view. When I'd first stared at this door with that flyer in my hands, I'd seen a house in need of freshening up. But now all I can see is a house that's well-lived in. A true home.

And I'm glad my parents aren't here to see the few tears that escape because I really want to walk back through those doors again. Yet that's not going to happen. I'm moving on, and this will or won't become my villain origin story.

I should research other cities I could live in, but all I do is stare at that door on the screen. I'll never walk through it again. Never see inside.

As if of it's own volition, my mouse opens another browser tab and pulls up my ex-roommates' streaming site. It's the only way I'll see inside our house again.

Or see them.

They look tired, and when I glance below their live feed and see their streaming schedule, it's no surprise that they're exhausted.

While the other day they weren't on and there was only their normal schedule, now their calendar is packed. They're playing for hours each day on live streams, and this doesn't even account for their training sessions or the ones they record and upload without a live audience. They've always gamed a lot, but they're pushing themselves harder than ever. They must be up for a big endorsement or have a huge competition coming up if they're practicing this much.

None of the quick comments whizzing by on the side of the live stream are talking about how tired they are though. Only about how hard they've been playing lately, never giving their challengers a chance to even get near their minions. How other teams are growing afraid of playing them because they're that good.

I'm not afraid of them though. All I want to do is gather each of my gamers to me and hold them until I'm not sure where my body ends and theirs begins. I would soothe away the purple circles under their eyes and remind them they should be eating and taking care of themselves.

That's not my job anymore though. They've probably already hung up flyers saying they're hiring again, looking for a new live-in girlfriend who can fulfill all of their sexual needs and won't betray them by telling the entire world of romance readers what they're like in bed, move by move.

Lucky bitch.

One of the comments catches my eye, mostly because a few of the other viewers comment on it, almost making a little conversation thread on the side.

"Is your girlfriend ever going to come on a live stream?" asks one of the viewers.

"It'd be cool to meet her," says another.

"I bet she's super hot. She has to be, because look at these guys," says another.

"She's taking all of the good gamers for herself. Not cool," says another.

The moment Helix sees the conversation thread in the sidebar he does a double take. His eyes darken and I can tell he's pissed. Probably other viewers can tell too, because he's not trying to hide it.

Immediately the chat says that the viewers who commented have all left the live stream. But Helix still looks pissed, and he flips up the mic on his headset before saying something to his teammates.

They all do the same, and now they're arguing amongst themselves. None of them looks happy and I wish we could hear what they're saying. In all my hours of watching their channel, I've never once seen them talk to each other privately. They're usually pretty casual and willing to give each other grief right on the air for all of their subscribers to see and know they're real people.

"What are you watching?" asks Mom, sneaking up behind me and knocking one side of my headphones loose.

"Just some videos," I say, hastily trying to close my laptop.

"Wait, are those your roommates?" Mom holds up the screen so she can get a better look at what's happening in the game.

I doubt she's ever seen a video game, let alone a computer game. It's embarrassing enough that she's caught me stalking my ex-roommates, but at least the sidebar chat is moving so fast there's no way she could see the comment about their girlfriend, or make sense of what they're saying now that they're back on their microphones. So much of the conversation in their world is coded with just acronyms, I don't even understand all of it, and I've spent months with and watching them.

"Honey," Mom settles onto the chair next to me, "do you want to talk about why you're really home?"

"I'm here visiting." I close my laptop and look at the table, the sink, anything in the kitchen other than my mom.

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