Page 83 of My Pucked Up Neighbor

She bluffs. Wins.

Fist-pumps like a dork.

Kisses my cheek.

And starts collecting her candy haul with the glee of someone who’s just robbed a bank.

She might’ve cleaned me out at the table.

But I’m already all-in, and I’m not bluffing.

Chapter twenty

Mandy

The morning starts out perfect. The sun is shining through the kitchen window, warming the tile beneath my feet. I’m cross-legged at the table, wrapped in Nate’s hoodie like a blanket of security. My bar flashcards are spread out in front of me, a highlighter tucked behind one ear, and my hair is up in a knot that’s slowly loosening as the hours go by.

Kira hums along to a soft indie playlist as she scoops grounds into the coffee maker. She looks impossibly put together in high-waisted jeans and a cropped sweater, scrolling her phone with one hand while stirring oat milk into her coffee with the other.

It’s peaceful. Ordinary. Exactly the kind of morning I didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to have during bar prep.

Until Kira lets out a low whistle.

“Well, well, well. Look who made it into the group chat.”

I glance up from my flashcards. “What group chat?”

She turns her screen toward me.

It’s a screenshot from Grace’s story: me curled up in Nate’s lap at poker night, one hand guarding his chips, both of us grinning like idiots. The caption reads:

Jones finally found someone who can out-bluff him.

I blink. “Okay, that’s cute.”

“You look disgustingly in love,” Kira teases. “You guys are like a Hallmark movie, but with hotter people.”

I laugh and reach for my coffee. “Alright, alright. Let’s not get carried away.”

The notification ping on my own phone draws my attention. I swipe it open, expecting a calendar reminder or maybe a meme from Nate.

Instead, it’s a tag. One I didn’t expect.

My stomach dips.

I’ve been tagged in a thread from an old law school committee group chat, one I haven’t thought about in months. I technically left it after graduation, but apparently I was still searchable.

I tap in, and there it is.

The same photo.

My name.

A string of comments:

"Isn’t that Mandy Fields with some hockey guy?"

"He’s hot but wasn’t he dating that influencer last year?"