Infinite Cashback System

Kumiko watched Chloe’s face burn crimson and felt something twist in her chest.

Jealousy.

Sharp and hot and uncomfortable.

She smiled wider to hide it.

Her best friend had scored the jackpot. A guy who could sing like an angel, clearly fucked like a demon based on the way Chloe wobbled slightly when she walked, and actually seemed to care about her feelings.

The trifecta.

The holy trinity of boyfriend material.

Fuck.

Kumiko was happy for Chloe. She was. Chloe deserved good things after everything with her family and her secret job and all the stress she carried around like a weighted blanket.

But also.

Also.

How the hell did she get this lucky?

Kumiko had been trying for years. Actual years. She went to conventions. She made herself look cute. She streamed regularly and interacted with chat and built a following.

And still.

Nothing.

Every guy she dated turned out to be either boring or a creep or both somehow.

Meanwhile Chloe bumped into her neighbor and boom. Perfect boyfriend acquired.

Life was not fair.

"Okay!" Kumiko clapped her hands together. Business mode. Focus. "Let’s get you set up for streaming glory."

She walked to the desk where the iMac sat glowing.

Stopped.

Stared.

"What the hell is this?"

Chloe came up beside her. "My PC?"

"Your. Your PC." Kumiko turned slowly. "Chloe. This is an iMac."

"Yeah?"

"You are not streaming on an iMac."

"Why not?" Chloe looked genuinely confused. "It works fine. I edit photos on it all the time."

"Photos are not the same as streaming." Kumiko gestured at the expensive hunk of aluminum. "The software compatibility alone is a nightmare. And don’t even get me started on the processing power needed for dual PC setups or capture cards or—"

"I understood like three of those words."

Kumiko took a deep breath.

She turned to Jordan.

He stood by the window. Hands in his pockets.

"And you allowed this?" Kumiko asked.

"Me?" Jordan blinked.

"Yes you. You’re a guy. Guys know about computers and gaming and tech stuff."

"That’s kind of sexist."

"Is it wrong though?"

Jordan paused. "Fair point."

Kumiko walked toward him.

He was tall.

Taller than she expected. Probably six foot two at least.

And built.

The white undershirt he wore stretched across his shoulders. His chest. His arms.

Kumiko stopped right in front of him. Had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact.

Mmm.

Tall boys were her weakness.

Focus.

She poked his chest with one finger. Hard muscle underneath the fabric.

"Aren’t you a gamer?" Kumiko asked.

"Uh." Jordan looked down at her finger. "Kind of?"

"Kind of doesn’t cut it. You would know that PC is superior. Especially for streaming."

"I mostly play League on whatever laptop I have."

"League." Kumiko’s eye twitched. "League of Legends. On a laptop."

"Yeah?"

"Jordan." She poked him again. "That is a crime against gaming."

"It runs fine."

"It runs. Fine." Another poke. "You’re killing me here."

Jordan rubbed the back of his head. The motion made his bicep flex.

Kumiko noticed.

Hated that she noticed.

"So what should we get?" Jordan asked. "For Chloe’s setup."

Right. Focus. Streaming equipment. Not tall gamer boys with stupid nice arms.

This was a teaching moment.

Kumiko’s specialty.

"Okay." She clapped her hands together. "Crash course time. Both of you. Couch. Now."

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Dead serious. Sit."

Jordan moved first. Settled onto the grey sectional with his legs spread slightly. Casual. Comfortable.

Chloe followed. Sat close enough that their thighs touched.

Of course they did.

Kumiko stood in front of them. Hands on her hips. Teacher mode fully activated.

"Streaming is not just turning on a camera and talking," she began. "It’s a production. You need the right equipment or you’ll look and sound like garbage."

"Encouraging," Chloe muttered.

Kumiko ignored her. She paced back and forth. Twin tails bouncing with each step.

"First. The PC situation." She gestured toward the iMac. "That thing is not going to cut it. You need a proper gaming PC. Something with a good processor and graphics card that can handle encoding while also running whatever software you’re using."

"How much does that cost?" Chloe asked.

"For a decent setup? Probably two thousand minimum."

Chloe went pale.

Jordan shifted. "I can—"

"No." Chloe cut him off. Sharp. "I’m not taking your money."

"It’s not—"

"Jordan. No."

The air got tense.

Kumiko watched the exchange with interest.

Jordan looked like he wanted to argue. His jaw set. His eyes intense.

But he backed down.

Interesting.

"What if we build one?" Jordan asked instead. "I’ve never done it but it can’t be that hard."

Kumiko perked up. "You want to build a PC?"

"If it’s cheaper. Yeah."

"It is cheaper. By like thirty percent at least. But it takes time and you need to know what parts to buy and—" She stopped. Grinned. "Actually. This is perfect. I’ll help you."

"You will?" Chloe asked.

"Of course. I’ve built three PCs. It’s fun. Like adult Legos except if you mess up you waste two thousand dollars."

"That’s not reassuring."

"You’ll be fine. I’ll supervise." Kumiko pulled out her phone. Started typing. "I’ll send you a parts list. We can order everything this week and build it next weekend."

Jordan nodded. "Works for me."

"In the meantime." Kumiko looked at Chloe. "You need to figure out what you’re actually streaming."

"I don’t know yet," Chloe admitted. "Kumiko does games and cosplay. I’m not good at games and my cosplay skills are. Nonexistent."

"You could do Just Chatting."

"Just Chatting?"

"Yeah. Like. You sit there and talk to chat. Answer questions. React to videos. That kind of thing."

Chloe’s nose wrinkled. "That sounds boring."

"It’s only boring if you’re boring."

"Thanks."

"I’m serious. You have personality. Use it." Kumiko sat on the coffee table. Faced them directly. "You’re already performing online. This is just. Different. More interactive."

Chloe went very still.

Kumiko realized what she’d said.

Shit.

Jordan’s eyebrows rose slightly. He looked at Chloe. Then at Kumiko.

"Performing?" he asked.

Double shit.