Pole Position: Between Logic and Passion

His arms wrap around me without hesitation, strong and warm and familiar. I close my eyes and let myself lean into him, just for a second. Just to feel something steady in the middle of everything that's been spinning out of control.

“I missed you,” he says softly against my hair.

I don’t answer right away. My fingers grip the back of his hoodie like they don’t want to let go.

“I didn’t come here to start a fight,” I say, my voice low. “But after everything that happened… the picture, the texts, your silence—Charles, I just couldn’t sit there pretending I was okay anymore.”

“I know,” he whispers.

“I swear to you, there’s nothing going on. She showed up, I didn’t invite her. I told her no. I told her she couldn’t stay.”

I let the words sink in. Let the silence fill the space between us while the hum of the fridge becomes louder than it should be.

“Go finish your stream,” I mutter, stepping out of his arms. “Your fans are waiting.”

“Amy—”

“Go,” I repeat, without looking at him. “I’ll be fine.”

----

I curl up on the couch, blanket to my chin, phone in hand.
The second I log into Twitch with my burner account — catmom_44 (because I panicked when I created it) — Charles’s stream is already live again.

The chat was chaotic...

“That was AMY???”
“She just walked in like that???”
“Red flag?”
“Icon behavior.”
“He looked SHOOK.”
“Protect this woman at all costs.”
“She’s unhinged and I love her.”
“Brooo she was DEF checking up on him.”
"OMG She is definitely paranoid."
"She should have known by now that she would never keep this man for long"
" Jeez, get away from her Charles"
" Control freak"
"She broke down the door to get in? hahahahahahaha"

My stomach twisted as I read through the messages. Some were hilarious, others… not so much. I knew this was the internet — chaotic, ruthless, and weirdly obsessed — but still. It stung a little.

And then, after a few minutes of ignoring it, Charles suddenly paused the game. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath, and looked directly at the camera.

“Alright, listen,” he said, voice calm but firm. “I’m seeing a lot of stuff in the chat about Amy, and I’m not cool with it.”

The chat slowed down for a second — rare, but telling.

“She didn’t ‘break in’ or ‘catch me doing something,’” he continued, a small laugh escaping. “I gave her a key months ago. Before we even started dating, actually. She’s welcome in my home anytime.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking to the screen. “Yeah, I got scared when she showed up, but only because I had my headphones on and didn’t hear her come in. That’s it.”

“DADDY CHARLES DEFENDING HIS WOMAN”
“Okay KING we see you”
“Suddenly I want to be Amy.”
“I take it back she’s adorable.”
“Now I’m rooting for them omg.”

He smiled then — that soft, private smile he usually saved just for me. “Amy’s not the problem. She's kind of the solution.”

Charles was back in his game, but the chat? Oh no. The chat was on fire. If anything, it had only gotten worse — or better, depending on how you looked at it.