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“It’s a date,” I remind her. “I don’t think Jesse would like it if I showed up, too.”
“He’d be fine with it.” Juniper easily dismisses me. “And you’re looking pale. Like you haven’t had enough sun lately.”
I roll my eyes and sigh loudly enough for her to hear me. “Yeah, Jun. I’m always this pale.”
“I know,” she assures me, and disappears back into the living room. “Want me to bring you dinner?”
Oh, that’s an idea I hadn’t thought of. I pause, my hand on my keyboard. “Yes, please!” I call back. “You know what I like?”
“Beef fajitas, extra spice, no sour cream?” she asks, breezing out the door. It’s the exact opposite of what I’d want, which she knows, and I snort instead of giving her a genuine answer in reply.
Besides, my mind is on other things right now other than bantering with my favorite person in the entire world. I give it a few minutes before I move, listening to make sure that she’s gone and not coming back to get something.
By now, with the time alone I’ve had today, I’ve set up a streamer account onfunxcamsand gotten verified. Which is something I thought would take longer, but in reality it only took a couple of hours for my new streamer account to become unrestricted. I’d had the option to use my viewer account,finalistgirl, but that had made me nervous.
What if someone from Oliver’s stream caught wind of what I’m doing? Worse, what ifOliverfound out? The idea that he could stumble across my stream still terrifies me, and I’d struggled with the decision of possibly blocking his account from mine before deciding that wasn’t necessary.
There are over six thousand streamers onfunxcams,first of all. Meaning the chance of him finding me are one in a million give or take.
Getting up from my desk chair, I grab the clothes I’d stashed under my pillow for when Juniper was gone, and I quickly strip out of my comfy sweatpants and long-sleeve tee to put them on.My heart pounds in my chest as I pull on the black, low-rise panties and the bralette with its collar-like top and straps that go from top to bottom. While it provides full enough coverage, the straps give it sex appeal, in my opinion. Over that go my black running shorts that I’d found hiding in the back of my dresser and a snug, thin white t-shirt that should probably never see the light of day again.
Do I look a little bit like a typical co-ed dressed like this and with my hair around my face? Yeah, maybe. But it’s my age-range, and while doing my research I’d seen that it’s a pretty popular tag that people seemed to be into.
Sitting down again, I take a deep breath and look at my computer, then pull the mask out of my drawer to place beside it. My stream is ready, and all I need to do is hit the green button on my screen to go live.
God, I don’t think I can do this. My stomach flips and twists, trying its best to kill me with some incredible, impossible torsion that’ll knock me on my ass right here and now.
I don’t think I can do this.
But I put the fox mask on anyway, blinking a few times as I get used to the limited field of view through the narrow eyes. It makes me feel more at ease somehow, though I suppose it just goes to prove that old saying, right?
If I can’t see them, then they can’t see me.
My hands tremble as I place one on my trackpad, laptop open and new webcam on. Thankfully, I didn't have to buy this. My tech-loving uncle had gotten good webcams for all of his nieces and nephews last Christmas. This is just the first time I’m really putting mine to use.
What if they hate me? I think, feeling the slightest bit panicky. What if I freak out, or freeze up, or, even worse, vomit? Though I’ve never vomited from nerves in my life… this would be a really bad time to start.
Finally, I let out a breath, closing my eyes behind the mask as I fight back fear. The worst, or best, thing that could happen is that no one comes into my stream. Or that just a few people do, and I’m only embarrassing myself in front of a person or two.
That won’t be so bad.
“You are a strong, independent woman,” I tell myself, body rigid. “You are playing a character. You can do this.”
I always did love theater in high school. What’s this, but a strange next step?
Before I can talk myself out of this incredibly terrifying idea… I click the button on my trackpad and, after a second or so delay that makes me nearly choke, my stream goes live.
It isn’t as fancy as Oliver’s. There’s no custom tip chart in the corner, though I do see in the chat that my goal of fifty dollars is on display, along with the embarrassing ‘0’ in front of it.
For a long moment, there are no viewers. One minute turns into two, and I sit back in my computer chair, arms up on my armrests and trying to look aloof behind my mask.
God, this is embarrassing.
That is, until I look down, and the number of viewers isn’t zero anymore. First one, then two, thenfourpeople appear, two of them saying hello in my chat as I sit there like my heart isn’t trying to pound out of my chest.
“Hello,” I say, not bothering to try to seem overconfident or cocky or sassy like some of the other women I’ve seen on here in the past day. No way anyone would believe that of me, when I know that’s not true to my personality. “I’m really grateful you’re here for my first show. I’m kind of nervous, if I’m being honest.” Nervous is an understatement, though I move my hand to toy at the hem of my shirt, showing a peek of skin above my crossed legs.
Three more viewers pop in, and one leaves, though that still leaves me at six. Another person says hello, and one asks me about my day.
