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“Please,” Alex says, sipping his drink. “You fold more often than I fold my laundry.”

Laughter ripples around the room.

Stacy high-fives Haley. “This is already my favorite game night.”

Mandy leans in and whispers to me, “Do they always bust chops like this before playing?”

“Constantly,” I whisper back. “It’s half the fun. It’s like they’re animals marking their territory.”

She grins. “Or foreplay.”

The girls and I bust out laughing. Grace nearly chokes on her drink, and Haley snorts so hard she startles Parker. Mandy’s still giggling when…

James glances over from the table. “What’s so funny?”

I smirk, leaning back. “Just watching you get busted by our future attorney. It's inspiring, really.”

James groans. “Mandy, I thought we were allies.” He fake-pouts, then adds with a wink, “Et tu, Brute?”

Mandy bats her lashes innocently. “Sorry, James. Loyalty gets rerouted when chips are on the line, and I've heard that your poker face is basically an open book.”

The girls crack up again while James clutches his chest like he’s been personally wounded. “Brutal,” he mutters. “She's spunky, Nate. I like it.”

***

We all gather around the poker table. Cards shuffle. Chips clack. Haley passes out little slips of paper with names drawn in Sharpie like we’re in middle school homeroom.

“Assigned seats?” James asks, eyeing his. “What is this, the eighth grade dance?”

“Don’t complain,” Grace says. “Last time you sat beside Ethan and you both cheated with signals.”

“That was not cheating,” Ethan says. “It was creative collaboration.”

“You tapped your cup every time you had a good hand.”

He shrugs. “Still lost to Stacy.”

Mandy and I end up side by side. She lays her cards down like she’s handling a tarot reading.

“You sure you’ve never played?” I ask, eyeing the neat little stack of chips she’s already won.

She shrugs. “Maybe once or twice. I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

James squints at her across the table. “You’re a killer. We should sign you on as another mental performance coach.”

“Or an enforcer,” Ethan says. “You sure you’re not a mob wife in disguise?”

Mandy doesn’t blink. “You think I’d waste mob-wife energy on poker night? Amateur hour.”

Everyone loses it.

Tanner grins. “Ten bucks says Nate’s letting her win.”

“She’s beating me too,” I say. “Either she’s really good, or I’m terrible.”

“Or both,” Connor adds with a smirk.

Mandy tosses a chip at him. “I just play smarter.”