Sidequest for Love by L.H. Cosway

“Who’s the girl you follow?”

Rosie grinned. “It’s this Irish girl. She livestreams while playing video games. I’m not really into the games, though. I watch mostly for the funny banter. There’s a Scottish guy and an American girl who she plays with, and the three of them are just hilarious together.”

Hmm. I didn’t remember there being a Scottish guy when I checked out her stream. I must’ve been wearing my thoughts on my face because Rosie gave an excited gasp.

“Oh, my God! Is your friend the same Afric? This is so cool. Can you get me her autograph?”

“I never said it was the same person,” I countered, but my sister waved me away.

“Your expression said it all.”

“She’s right,” Grandma added. “Rosie has always been great at reading expressions.”

“If I weren’t a librarian, I’d become one of those fake psychics who use cold readings to pretend they know stuff about your dead relatives.”

“Do that, and we’ll all disown you.”

“So, what’s she like in real life?” Rosie went on.

“Who?”

She rolled her eyes. “Afric. Who else? Is she as funny as she is on her stream?”

“I’m not sure funny is the right word. The woman doesn’t have a filter. I suppose some people find that sort of thing amusing.”

“Oh, don’t act like your sense of humour is so high-brow. I saw you chuckling away at an old episode of Faulty Towers last week.”

“I was not chuckling,” I argued. “I might’ve smiled in mild amusement, but that’s all.”

“Please get me an autograph. Please,” Rosie begged.

“Fine,” I relented grudgingly, suspecting Afric would be unbearable when she discovered what a huge fan my sister was of hers. “I’ll see what I can do.”





5.



Afric



“Okay, everyone. I need to grab a shower. See you all tomorrow.”

“You’re showering at six p.m.? Do we need to stage an intervention?” Yellowshoes asked as I turned off my stream. She and TheBigSix were still online, and since she was so used to interacting with us, calculating the time difference between the U.K. and Florida had become second nature.

“Sometimes I shower late. What of it?” I countered as I pulled off my hoodie. I wore only a tank top underneath, something I never wore when I was streaming because that was just asking for trouble. But Yellowshoes and TheBigSix were my pals. I trusted them enough to see me in something that wasn’t three times too big.

“Is Neil coming over again?” Yellowshoes went on, and I could practically feel TheBigSix’s silent disapproval simmering through his mic.

“Yes, he is. He’s helping me with some personal stuff.”

“Personal, eh?” There was a smile in her voice now.

“Not that kind of personal, gutter brain. It has to do with my finances. Neil’s a numbers whizz.”

“What’s wrong with your finances?” TheBigSix asked, finally joining the conversation.

“Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about,” I answered. “Now, I better go. He’ll be here soon, and I stink to high heaven. Seriously, I think it might be a health and safety hazard at this point,” I continued jokingly.

Yellowshoes laughed. “Okay, girl. Go shower. Talk tomorrow?”

“Yep, talk to you tomorrow. Bye, you two,” I said and logged off before TheBigSix could channel any more annoyance at me. His current profile pic was a quote from some fantasy novel he was obsessed with, but I’d seen a picture of him when he first started playing Greenforest and remembered he wasn’t bad looking. He seemed tall, with dark auburn hair and brown eyes. That was as much as I could remember. He typically gamed with only his mic on. Yellowshoes turned her camera on every once in a while, but normally, she preferred just to use her mic, too.

Sarita was staying at Mabel’s tonight, so I had the place to myself. I would’ve indulged in a bubble bath, but I didn’t have time since Neil already texted saying he was on his way. He worked in Shoreditch, so it’d take him at least half an hour to get here by the Tube, if not longer since it was rush hour.

I turned on the shower and stepped under the spray. I’d just finished shampooing and conditioning my hair when there was a knock at the door. What the hell? How had he gotten here so fast? I quickly rinsed myself off, threw on my enormous fluffy bathrobe, and went to answer the door.

“You’re early,” I said when I found Neil standing there, his satchel bag over his shoulder.

“And you’re dripping,” Neil replied, eyeing my wet hair before his attention drifted down to my robe.

“That’s because you caught me mid-shower. I didn’t expect you to arrive so quickly.”

He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, eyes on the floor. “Well, go and finish. I’ll wait here.”

“Nonsense,” I said, reaching out and grabbing his arm to pull him inside the flat. “Go into my room and get started. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

I shooed him inside my room, noticing he was wearing jeans today. They showcased what I already knew was a very nice backside. Neil glanced back at me, catching me clearly checking out his arse. He seemed to flush then went to sit down at my desk. I flicked on the ceiling light, knowing he wasn’t a fan of the neon lamps, then went to finish my shower.