Page 28
I hadn’t opened my dashboard in two days. Not because I was scared.
Okay. Fine. Because I was scared.
But morbid curiosity is stronger than dignity, so here I am, staring at the backend of my career like it just sent me a drunk text.
My stomach makes a noise I’m not emotionally prepared to interpret.
Engagement rate: up 340%.
Average watch time: 10 minutes.
Demographic breakdown: more men than usual. A lot more.
I scroll. The top-performing clip is a 13-second loop of me glaring at Adrian while he smug-monologues like he invented smirking.
It has over a hundred thousand likes.
I close the browser. Reopen it immediately. Then slam the laptop shut like it just called me babe and asked for feet pics.
My phone buzzes.
JESSIE:
Open your analytics yet? Or still pretending it didn’t happen?
I call her. No preamble.
“He Zoom-bombed me.”
“You’re trending in six countries. ”
“He changed his background to my face, Jessie.”
“To be fair,” she says, “it was a flattering freeze-frame. Excellent cheekbones.”
“I blacked out from shame and came to with a Twitch sponsorship offer.”
“Yeah,” Jessie says, completely unfazed. “BuzzBattle wants to do a reaction segment called ‘Zeta or Nah.’ You decide in real time if a clip is toxic or just cringey.”
I make a noise somewhere between a laugh and a low-level exorcism.
“You realize,” she adds, “he made you viral.”
“He made me a meme.”
“A good meme.”
I flop onto the bed and stare at the ceiling. “Jessie. Be honest. Are you... into him?”
She snorts. “No.”
“That was fast.”
“I mean, he’s hot, sure. And objectively charismatic. And surprisingly well-lit for someone who lives in constant moral shadow.”
I groan. “So yes.”
There’s a pause.
Then, quieter: “Look. I’m not saying he’s good for you. I’m just saying... he’s good for your content.”
I stare at the ceiling like it owes me money.
“You’re saying I should be grateful to the man who hijacked my livestream with photographic evidence of my worst romantic choices?”
“I’m saying the internet already shipped it, built a fan wiki, and is currently arguing about your attachment styles on Reddit.”
I hurl a pillow across the room.
Jessie’s voice turns annoyingly gentle. “You don’t have to like him. Just don’t block what’s working.”
I don’t answer.
Mostly because I’m not sure if I’m still mad at Adrian—
—or at Jessie for not being mad enough.
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
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- Page 14
- Page 15
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- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28 (Reading here)
- Page 29
- Page 30
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- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
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- Page 45