Chapter 23 Live & Moose
Live & Moose
~REVERIE~
Itap the red button, and my screen shifts from preview mode to live broadcast.
That familiar thrill shoots through me—the one I get every time I go live. It's different from posting pre-recorded content. This is raw, unedited, happening in real-time. No second chances. No delete and retry. Whatever happens next is permanent.
My face fills the frame—wind-tousled hair from the open window creating this effortlessly messy look that would take most influencers thirty minutes and three different products to achieve.
My cheeks are flushed pink from the cold December air streaming through the truck, making me look healthy and alive rather than washed out.
Eyes bright with nervous excitement and genuine happiness.
The viewer count starts at seven. My most loyal followers who have notifications turned on and drop everything when I go live.
Then it jumps to twenty-three.
Forty-eight. Seventy-one.
Climbing fast as the algorithm picks up that I'm broadcasting and pushes it to more feeds.
"We are LIVE!" I announce, grinning at the camera with genuine enthusiasm. "Hi, my book addictive darlings! I've been gone for a hot minute, but I'm back and ready to share the most amazing adventure with you!"
The comments start flooding in immediately—a waterfall of greetings and questions and emojis scrolling past faster than I can read them.
WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN???
MISSED YOU SO MUCH
omg you're in a car??
WHO IS THAT IN THE BACKGROUND
"I'm literally on a road trip adventure," I continue, watching the viewer count climb past one hundred, "with an unexpected guest!"
I wait, letting the anticipation build.
The numbers skyrocket—two hundred, three hundred, four hundred. Hearts and fire emojis fill the comment section. People are sharing the stream. Tagging friends. The algorithm is picking this up.
This is what I've been working toward for years. Real-time engagement. People who care enough to drop everything and watch. The kind of audience that brands notice.
"Should I give you guys a sneak peek of where we're headed?" I ask, biting my lip like I'm debating whether to spill a secret.
The comments explode.
YES YES YES
TELL US EVERYTHING
spill the tea sis
Then Nash does something unexpected—he opens the windows wider. Both of them. The passenger side I'd cracked earlier for fresh air and now his driver's side too, rolling them down until cold December wind can rush through the cab unimpeded.
Cold November wind rushes through the cab with dramatic force, catching my hair and whipping it around my face like I'm the star of some indie music video.
The winter air carries a symphony of scents—pine forests from the tree line visible in the distance, snow-covered fields that smell clean and sharp, the faint sweetness of woodsmoke from chimneys in town.
It's crisp and perfect and exactly the kind of atmospheric footage that gets engagement.
He's doing this on purpose. This grumpy Alpha, who claimed he didn't understand social media or care about content, is actively helping me create engaging, cinematic footage. Creating atmosphere. Making magic happen.
My heart does this weird fluttery thing that has nothing to do with the cold air.
I giggle—can't help it, the sound bubbling up genuine and delighted—and flip the camera to rear-facing mode so my followers can see what I'm seeing.
The town appears ahead through the windshield, getting closer with each passing second, materializing from the gray winter landscape like something from a snow globe come to life. Buildings emerge from the countryside—first just dark shapes, then details become clear as we approach.
"See that adorable little town up ahead?
" I narrate, keeping the camera as steady as possible despite the truck's movement and my excitement.
"That's Millbrook! I'm heading there to check out all the Christmas festivities they have going on because hello, Christmas is literally upon us and I am SO here for it! "
The town looks absolutely picturesque even from this distance.
A white church steeple rises against the cloudy sky like something from a postcard, its cross visible at the peak.
Main Street is visible now—a strip of buildings lining both sides, storefronts with large windows, and what looks like Christmas decorations absolutely everywhere.
Lights are strung between vintage-style lamp posts even though it's daytime, creating this webwork of holiday cheer overhead.
Everything looks compact and charming in that quintessential small-town way that makes city people nostalgic for places they've never actually been to.
The kind of town where everyone knows everyone, and the local diner serves the best pie in three counties, and people still leave their doors unlocked.
I flip the camera back to selfie mode, making sure I'm centered in the frame with good lighting despite the overcast sky.
"So here's the exciting news that I'm literally buzzing about," I say, my enthusiasm building with each word as I imagine all the content possibilities.
"For the next six weeks—yes, SIX WEEKS—I'm going to be sharing ALL the festivities that small towns across the region have to offer!
Every Christmas market, every holiday event, every cozy tradition that makes this season absolutely magical! "
The viewer count hits five hundred. Hearts are pouring in.
People are loving this.
"I know it might be a bit of a trip to get out here to these small towns," I continue, gesturing at the countryside visible behind me through the truck windows, "but trust me when I say it's such a wonderful experience filled with joy and happiness and genuine holiday spirit that you just can't find in big cities!
Go with friends, family, loved ones, your pack!
Hell, bring your pets too! Can you even imagine a golden retriever in a ridiculous Christmas sweater at a holiday market? Pure content gold!"
The comments shift.
wait who's driving
WHO ARE YOU WITH
is that a GUY in the driver's seat???
REVERIE DO YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND
I giggle, trying to look mysterious.
"Well, that's supposed to be my little secret, but..." I pause for effect. "Should I give you guys a hint?"
The comments go absolutely wild. Viewer count climbing to six hundred now.
Seven hundred.
"Okay okay," I say, pretending to give in. "So I'm currently in a truck. A really nice truck. And who normally drives trucks?"
I'm teasing them and loving every second. This is what good content feels like—the audience engaged, the energy flowing, everything clicking into place.
AN ALPHA????
omg are you taken now
this is giving rom-com energy
ENEMIES TO LOVERS ARC???
"Is this going to be some rom-com adventure?" I read aloud, grinning. "I'm not sure! I mean, hmmm. I'd say we're just friends, right?"
I turn my head to look at Nash, keeping the phone camera on myself. He's focused on the road, but I can see that small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. The one that suggests he's enjoying this more than he wants to admit.
"Hey, Nash," I say, my tone shifting to curious. "Do Alphas even watch streams like this? I don't even know if my content appeals to your demographic."
I turn back to the camera, addressing my followers directly.
"Show of hands, everyone! Well, not actual hands because this is a live stream, but you know what I mean. How many Alphas are watching right now? Comment if you're an Alpha!"
The comments flood in so fast I can barely track them.
Alpha here!
alpha checking in
ALPHA AND LOVING YOUR CONTENT
been following you for months, definitely alpha
I watch in shock as the viewer count triples suddenly.
Eight hundred. Nine hundred. Nine hundred fifty.
One thousand.
One thousand viewers. That's a new live stream record for me. By a lot. My previous high was three hundred, and that was during a special holiday giveaway.
"Oh my gosh!" I squeal, genuinely excited. "You guys! This is incredible! We just hit one thousand viewers! That's a new record! Thank you so much for all the likes and views, and shares!"
Hearts are exploding across the screen. The engagement is insane.
"So to answer the earlier question," I say, still riding the high of hitting that milestone, "it seems like there are tons of Alphas here watching! My friend was the one who asked, and wow, I guess the answer is yes!"
I glance at Nash with a teasing expression, ready to needle him about jealousy.
"Aww, are you jealous—”
He leans in and kisses me.
Just—kisses me. Right there. On camera.
In front of one thousand people who are currently losing their collective minds in the comments.
His lips are warm against mine despite the cold December air rushing through the truck cab.
The kiss is firm, possessive, claiming in a way that sends electricity zinging down my spine. Not gentle or tentative or asking permission.
Deliberate. Intentional.
A statement.
The scent of him overwhelms everything else—motor oil, leather, and Alpha pheromones that my hindbrain recognizes and responds to with enthusiasm. My vanilla-caramel-citrus scent probably spikes in response, though I'm too stunned to notice.
It's only five seconds—maybe even less—but it feels like an eternity where nothing exists except his mouth on mine and the solid warmth of him and the knowledge that this is being broadcast to over a thousand people.
Time does that weird stretching thing where a moment becomes infinite, suspended in amber, every sensation amplified.
My eyes are wide—I can feel them, huge and startled in my face.
His are focused solely on mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat.
There's possessiveness there, clear as day and twice as bold.
And something else shimmering beneath the surface—a spark of jealousy that answers my unfinished question better than any words could.