Chapter 6: Stream Team and Digital Jealousy

Just when I thought my compliments had made things a little friendlier with Ryan, that night he came downstairs looking impatient. His footsteps echoed on the laminate floor, sharp and quick.

When he saw me, the edge in his eyes seemed to soften a little. He looked tired, but less guarded.

“I’m heading out for a bit. I’ll bring back dinner for you.”

He shook his car keys and explained. I heard the little Red Bull keychain jingle—a souvenir from some old gaming event.

His hands were long and well-shaped. My gaze lingered for a second, and I nodded obediently. I didn’t trust my voice not to crack.

Ryan glanced at me, looking pretty satisfied with my obedience—his steps even seemed lighter. Like he’d just scored the winning point.

He came back that night and brought me a Chipotle bowl. The tang of lime and cilantro hit my nose before he even handed me the bowl.

He hurried upstairs to stream, still looking a bit annoyed. Sometimes I wished I knew what went on in his head.

I was curious, but didn’t dare ask, so I opened his Twitch stream. The chat was already buzzing, and his username popped up at the top of my recommended.

I heard him turn on the camera with a dark face, silent for a moment before telling the chat, “Sponsorship requirement, gotta duo queue tonight.”

He’s super skilled, always solo carrying his streams. It was rare to see him duo—everyone in the chat noticed.

Occasionally he’d duo with old teammates or other streamer friends. Never with strangers, though.

Before I or the fans could react, a cute avatar suddenly invited him to team up. The overlay sparkled with her custom emotes.

He accepted without hesitation, but still looked unhappy. His shoulders tensed, his jaw set.

The girl streamer turned on her mic, her voice sweet and syrupy. I pictured her: probably big blue headphones, perfect eyeliner, an army of fans.

Fans in the chat explained she was also a game streamer. My screen filled with her name and heart emojis.

Besides him, I don’t really watch other streamers, so it’s normal I don’t know her. I’m loyal, I guess.

But he was duo queuing with another girl. I tried not to listen, but every time she laughed, it felt like nails on a chalkboard. I hated how much I cared.

They started the match, and I ate while listening to them talk. My fork hovered in midair.

Actually, it was mostly the girl streamer talking—he barely responded. Her laugh echoed through my headphones; he grunted now and then.

The girl streamer’s fans were many, and seeing his attitude, started flaming him in the chat:

“Our Maddie is so sweet, why does this guy have such a stinky attitude?”

“Poor Maddie.”

“Let’s take Maddie away, moody dude can stay.”

The chat was a mess. The mods could barely keep up.

The girl streamer didn’t seem bothered, still acting cute and asking him to give her the blue buff, even moving her character next to his in-game.

But he calmly took the blue buff himself and went off to gank the side lane without looking back. She begged for a power-up, but Ryan just took it for himself and moved on. The chat exploded—some people loved it, some were furious.

The chat scrolled even faster.

He glanced at the screen, spoke sparingly: “You don’t need the blue buff.”

His own fans laughed and spammed ‘classic Ryan,’ while the girl streamer’s fans went wild. Team Ryan vs Team Maddie—it was a digital battlefield.

Ryan’s longtime fans all know he’s sharp-tongued and does whatever he wants, so they weren’t surprised he didn’t give up the blue buff.

That’s just how he is.

The chat was so vicious I couldn’t watch, so I sent a bunch of special effect gifts. My username lit up the stream, and my heart pounded in my chest.

The chat started spamming, ‘Number one fan Emily, long time no see.’ I blushed, hiding my face behind the Chipotle bowl.

He glanced at it, then said coolly, “Thanks for the gifts.”

I ate the food he brought back, and hearing his “thanks” made my eyes crinkle with a smile. My secret moment, shared with thousands of strangers.

The game ended quickly, and maybe the girl streamer noticed his cold attitude, so she found an excuse to stop playing.

His expression gradually eased after she left—anyone could see how much he disliked her. He stretched, rolled his neck, and almost looked relaxed.

The chat was laughing, asking if he didn’t like soft girls.

Normally Ryan wouldn’t respond, but today he paused while looking at the chat.

“I like them.”

The chat froze. My heart did, too. Was he talking about me? Or just baiting the fans?

“Like what?”

“So you like soft girls?”

“Then why are you so mean to Maddie?”

He sneered, “That counts as a soft girl?”

He thought of the girl downstairs, eating slowly, like those bunny or hamster eating videos online.

So sweet.

None of them eat as well as she does. It’s cute, honestly. Like watching a nature documentary.

Just sometimes not sweet—afraid of him, won’t call him big bro.

So he does like soft girls.

My mind was a mess, imagining a million reasons why he would curl his lips.

But if he liked me, how could he be so indifferent?

A few days ago, my brother messaged me, worried we weren’t getting along, telling me not to hang around him too much. He’s always overthinking.

I sighed, packed up the empty takeout container, and tossed it in the trash. The city lights blinked outside the window as I wondered what Ryan was really thinking.