Chapter 1: Oops, I Called My Idol ‘Babe’

I logged into my little brother’s pro-level gaming account and hopped into a match of Ranked Peak.

The blue-white glow from the monitor washed over my face as I adjusted my headset, heart pounding with the adrenaline rush of playing under a pro tag. The lobby music thumped in my ears, and I could almost smell the faint trace of Cody’s body spray clinging to his gaming chair. The whole thing felt riskier, like I was borrowing someone else’s identity for a little while.

After pulling off a flawless pentakill as jungle, I couldn’t stop myself: “Babe, you’re insane!”

The words just spilled out before I could stop them, my fingers dancing over the keyboard. In the heat of the moment, it felt so natural—like I was on a hot streak in real life, too. My cheeks went hot, but the thrill was too good to regret.

“Can I crawl into your bed and learn how to jungle from you?”

I typed it out with a grin, totally caught up in the high of winning. The chat was a blur, and I didn’t even pause to think who might be reading it. Sometimes, you just get swept up in the game.

When the match ended, I checked the jungler’s handle—the same as my brother’s teammate—and my blood ran cold.

My stomach plunged, and for a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe. I stared at the screen, desperately hoping it was just a weird coincidence. But there it was, plain as day: [WG.Wish]. I’d just shot my shot at my brother’s actual teammate. Oh. My. God.

A flood of chat messages popped up from the other team.

[Heard your team’s mid is in your bed?]

[Breaking news! Wolf Guard’s mid and jungle are a thing!]

My hands turned clammy. I could practically hear the snickers coming from the other side of the screen, like a pack of high schoolers gossiping in the hallway. My heart slammed against my ribs as I fought to keep my cool.

I forced a swallow, trying to play it cool. I slid the phone across the table, putting on my best poker face. Cody didn’t even look up—he was too wrapped up in his own game, for now.

Cody, our family’s little trouble magnet, was busy playing cards with the relatives, his allowance already wiped out.

He sat cross-legged on the living room rug, surrounded by aunts, uncles, and a cousin or two, a sad little pile of nickels and dimes in front of him. He was grinning, but I could tell he was trying to win back what he’d lost. The whole room smelled like coffee and cinnamon from the kitchen—the scent of every family gathering.

I pulled out some crisp twenties and, feeling guilty, stuffed them into his hoodie pocket. I was basically buying his silence.

The bills crinkled as I slipped them in, trying to be sneaky about it. I felt like Robin Hood—if Robin Hood was just trying to cover her own butt. The guilt gnawed at me, but it felt like the least I could do.

He eyed me suspiciously. “Sis, why are you suddenly so generous?”

He squinted at me, eyes narrowing like he was about to call my bluff. You can’t get anything past Cody for long—especially not when it comes to money.

My smooth getaway hit a speed bump.

Uh-oh.

My hand froze halfway to my side. The room seemed to go a little quieter, like everyone could sense something was up. I tried to act like I didn’t hear him.

I turned, patted his shoulder, and put on my best big-sister face. “Come on, bro, I’ve always looked out for you. We’re a tight-knit family, right?”

I flashed him a reassuring grin, ruffling his hair the way I used to when we were kids. “Besides, you know Mom would kill me if I didn’t take care of you.”

“Anyway, I gotta get to the stage.”

I tossed the line over my shoulder, already halfway out the door. My nerves were jangling, and I needed fresh air more than ever.

I bolted out the door.

The cold slapped me awake, and I let out a shaky breath. The front porch creaked as I bounded down the steps, trying to shake off the embarrassment.

In the car, I opened my phone and snuck into the jungler’s Twitch stream.

I huddled in the back seat, phone propped on my knee, earbuds in. I felt ridiculous. The familiar purple glow of Twitch washed over me, and I scrolled through the chat, heart pounding. I felt like a spy on a mission, hoping not to get caught.

The guy with the [WG.Wish] tag sat in front of the webcam, looking stiff.

He was all sharp jawline and focused eyes, posture ramrod straight. Like he was trying too hard not to react. He looked tense. The chat was moving at a mile a minute, and even through the screen, you could feel the tension.

[Let’s hear from Wish—how’s it feel getting a confession from your team’s mid?]

[Wolf Guard’s bot lane is a mess, now mid and jungle are getting spicy. Top lane, you better watch out!]

The chat was relentless, tossing out jokes and half-baked rumors faster than he could read them. I winced, imagining what he must be thinking.

Wish’s expression was impossible to read. “Don’t be ridiculous. My relationship with Cody is clean as a whistle. Just pure brotherhood, okay?”

He tried to play it cool, but I could tell he was flustered. His voice was steady, but his eyes darted away from the camera, like he was hoping the topic would die off.

“How would I know why he suddenly called me ba—uh, that word! When I’m back at the club after my break, I’m gonna have words with him!”

He stumbled over the word, face flushing just a bit. It was the first crack in his cool-guy armor, and the chat pounced on it.

[Couples fight and make up five minutes later. We get it, we get it.]

Wish: …

He just stared at the chat, lips pressed in a thin line. I could almost hear him groaning inside.

Feeling guilty, I sent two Carnival gifts.

I tapped the gift icon, sending a flurry of virtual confetti and neon hearts across the screen.

If only real-life guilt could be paid off so easily.

Gotta pay my idol some emotional damages.

I started to type out a quick apology. Then I deleted it. No way was I risking outing myself now.

[Top supporter is here!]

[Sis, give it up. Your idol’s gay.]

I quickly closed the stream.

My thumb hovered over the exit button for a second too long. I shut the app with a guilty sigh, the last few messages burning in my mind. I slumped back in my seat, wishing I could disappear.

My manager shot me a suspicious look. “Why are you acting so weird today?”

She peered at me over her glasses, brow raised. I scrambled to look innocent, tucking my phone away like it was nothing.

I stared back, all innocence.

I widened my eyes, trying to look as harmless as a Disney princess. “Just nervous about the show,” I said, voice as steady as I could manage.

“Perform well later. This is your first time on such a big New Year’s Eve show. Make me proud!”

She squeezed my shoulder, her voice softening just a bit. “You’ve worked hard for this, Emmy. Don’t let your nerves get the best of you.”

I nodded like a bobblehead.

My head felt like it was on a spring. Real smooth, Emmy. I flashed her a thumbs-up, hoping she’d buy it.