“It’s not obvious?” Notice me, senpai.
She bites out, “I thought that statement wasableist.”
“You’re right. It is. I apologize. Please don’t cancel me.”
“Ugh.” Her lip juts in her scowl, bringing back my queen, my love, my angel—the tiny divot I adore. “Just explain your stupid thoughts.”
“Gladly. I would wear a uniform for you.”
Her eye twitches.
“Are you fighting to tell me not to encroach on Sigma’s maid gag?”
She sucks in a slight breath.
“Do you also watch Enigma, then? Or am I special? I didn’t get a chance to look for other gamers’ merch in your room before…mm. Yeah.”
She bites her bottom lip, and this is giving melife. Until, of course, she deigns to break my heart. “You’re not special. I watch most of the WonderCraft server.”
Oh?Is that so? A complete and utternerd, are we? Heaven help me, that’scute.
I glance at her shirt, my shirt. The merch drop from three years ago… “I got you into WonderCraft, didn’t I? I only joined this past year.” I point. “That shirt is—”
“Yes,” she hisses, huffing. “I followed you to WonderCraft, season nine, and your collabs with the other members before that were what first got me interested in some of their other videos, but I couldn’t get into the Minecraft server until you joined because there was justso much history, and I couldn’t bring myself to care about any of it until you started making it with them.” She pauses for a quivering breath. “Is that what you want to hear? That youaremy favorite?”
I smile; the action works its usual magic on her. I say, “Yes, well, obviously.”
Her eyes close. “Well…there you have it, then. You, FrostPlays, are my…favorite.”
My smile broadens. I bring my attention back to Ever or Never. “Never have I ever stalked an ex online. But I bet you have.”
“I got yours right,” she murmurs. “You got mine only if it not beingmyex counts.”
“Maelin’s?”
“Maelin’s,” she confirms, disgust rising.
“Do you have any exes?” I ask. A low simmer of jealousy bubbles up inside me at the veryideaof her doing what we just did with someone else. Logically, I know she wasgreatand that implies a practice that came from somewhere, but I hate it.
Her disposition turns somber.
“That many?” I murmur, low.
Her head shakes. “No. No one… No one’s ever really been interested in me, like that.”
My eyes widen as my smile disintegrates. “What?”
She snatches another worksheet, the compatibility test, and begins scratching in her first answer. “You heard me.”
I did. Ididhear her. No exes. No one interested in her romantically. What…
I turn, looking out the kitchen archway, toward her bedroom, where marvelous, dangerous, wonderful, magical things took place.
How?
“Morana, was this…was that your first real kiss?”
Her face crumples. “Oh,ew. No. Don’t bestupid.”
