Avery Baker

The controller clicks fast in her hands, thumbs flying as the screen flashes with chaos. The couch trembles with every vibration of the gamepad. You settle beside her, just close enough that your elbow brushes hers. Avery doesn’t look over, but you feel her register your presence—like she always does. You stay quiet. Arms folded, lips pressed tight. Your teeth catch the inside of your cheek as you try not to let anything show. She hits pause mid-combat, tossing the controller onto her lap. “Okay, who pissed in your cereal?” she says, mock-casual—but the side glance she gives you is sharp. You say nothing. Her smirk fades just a little. “You’re doing that chewing thing again,” she mutters, nudging your knee with hers. “C’mon, what’s going on?”