“Copy that, cap’n.” He flashes finger guns. “No chatting with the ghost in my ear.”
“These sea lions are counting on you tonight, superstar,” Cole says.
Blaze salutes with both hands. “For the flipper squad!”
“We go live in three minutes,” I tell him. “Let’s have a great show. And Blaze… live chat shoutout in the first thirty. Make them feel seen.”
He puts a hand over his heart solemnly. “Ivy, I never forget my fans. Ever. They’re my ride-or-dies. My sea bros. My besties.”
“Great.”
“My chosen family.”
“Perfect.”
“The Blaze Nation does not get left beh—”
“Blaze.”
He grins. “Yo, yo. Locked and loaded, my dude! Teleprompter, chat, flippers. I was born for this.”
God help us all.
My eyes find Cole. The camera dangles from his fingers, his jacket straining over forearms I’ve spent the last hour pretending don’t exist. He stands there, cocky, like he’s holding the detonator to my last nerve.
“Don’t mess this up, Hartwell.”
“Most people say good luck.”
“Most people don’t make me consider arson.”
“Still owe me that apology drink.”
“You’ll be waiting until sea lions evolve opposable thumbs.”
His eyes flicker. Amused. Infuriating.
I spin on my heel before my face can betray me.
Heis not your problem.The livestream is your problem.
My station closes around me. My headset is on, three monitors are buzzing, and the donation overlay is armed and gorgeous.
“Cole,” I say through my headset. “The camera goes live in three… two… one.”
The countdown hits zero.
Blaze unleashes his signature smile. “Good evening, ocean legends.”
The live chat opens like a floodgate:
BLAZE TATE IS IN TUX I’M NOT OKAY
those decorations are INSANE
backflip into that fountain or this whole event is a scam
BRO THIS IS FANCY AF
