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"Yeah. Effortlessly."

She looks away, a flush creeping up her neck. "I think it’s the alcohol."

"Nope. It’s you."

She opens her mouth to say something, but Kira grabs her hand and drags her up toward the dartboard. "Time for team girl domination," she announces.

Mandy throws me a look over her shoulder, half helpless, half delighted.

I just sit back, take another sip, and watch her laugh as she nails a bullseye her first try.

Damn. I’m in trouble.

But every time she glances at me,and I glance back, I can still feel the almost.

I love that we’re becoming friends. Easy. Comfortable. But every time she laughs, every time she looks at me like that, I want more. And I have no idea what the hell I’m supposed to do about it.

Chapter twelve

Mandy

The apartment door clicks open just as I finish highlighting another paragraph for the hundredth time. My highlighter squeaks across the page like it's as tired as I am.

I hear the thump of Nate’s duffel hitting the floor, followed by the unmistakable sound of him cracking his neck. That was loud.

I call out from the guest room without looking up from my notes. "We win?"

"We did. Came back in the third. Townsend got a goal, I blocked a shot that probably cracked a rib, and Mikey fell into the penalty box trying to hop the boards."

I smile to myself but stay hunched over my flashcards.

A few seconds later, he appears in the doorway with two bottles of water, one already open. He tosses me the other.

"Nice assist," I say, catching it.

Nate grins, still in his post-game gear, sweatpants, a fitted Acers tee, baseball cap turned backward, and that low-key swagger that makes my brain short-circuit.

"We’re both putting in the work tonight," he says.

I gesture to the sea of flashcards and outlines. "Yeah, well, my opponent is Bar Exam v. Sanity, and I’m getting bodied."

Nate walks over, leans on the chair behind me, and peers at my notes. "You color-coded again. I’m terrified and impressed."

"Welcome to becoming a lawyer. We’re all just one paper jam away from a full breakdown."

He hums thoughtfully. "You’ve been hunched over this table for hours?"

"Yup. It's literally a pain in the neck."

His hands settle lightly on my shoulders. "Let me help."

I hesitate. "With torts or tension?"

"One’s easier than the other."

I exhale, and before I can argue, his thumbs press into the knots in my shoulders. Firm. Warm. Focused. I melt into the touch before I even realize I’m doing it.

"Jesus," I mutter. "That’s not fair."