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"Girl went from student council to NHL real quick."

"LMAO she’s living the puck bunny dream."

"Hope she’s not trying to be taken seriously anymore."

I stare at the screen, fingers suddenly cold.

Kira must see my face because she walks over. “What’s wrong?”

I just tilt the phone in her direction.

She reads the messages, her expression going flat. “Wow. Classy bunch.”

“They weren’t even friends. Just committee people. Law review, some leadership stuff. I don’t even know who half of them are.”

Kira leans a hip on the table, arms crossed. “Then who cares? They’re irrelevant.”

I nod. But the pressure is already in my chest.

Irrelevant or not, it still stings.

Because it wasn’t meant for me to see.

Because someone saw a moment I loved and turned it into a punchline.

Because I didn’t think being with Nate would feel so... visible.

“They make it sound like I’m just some groupie.” My voice is too quiet.

Kira softens. “You’re not. Anyone who knows you knows that.”

“But they don’t. And that’s the thing. They’re going to assume whatever they want. That I’m not serious anymore. That I’m just some chick dating a hot athlete.”

Kira sighs. “You’re not datingahot athlete. You’re datingthehot athlete.”

I don’t laugh.

She reaches for my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Come on, Mandy. You’ve got a JD, you’re taking the bar soon, and you’re dating a guy who clearly worships the ground you walk on. You win.”

I want to believe that.

But the uneasiness won’t leave.

Kira settles beside me, cradling her coffee mug, eyebrows pinched with concern. “You okay? Like, really okay?”

I pause for a beat, then slowly shake my head. “I don’t know. This isn’t normal for me. I’m not used to this.”

“This?”

“Being… seen. Or talked about like that.” I let out a long breath, rubbing at the back of my neck. “I’ve always kept things private. Focused on school, work, what’s next. Now I’m a screenshot in some gossip thread?”

Kira hums, thoughtful. “To be fair, you’ve also always been kind of boring.”

I shoot her a deadpan look, and she laughs.

“I meant that as a compliment,” she adds quickly. “Low drama. Under the radar. Now you’re dating someone whose literal job is to be in the spotlight.”

“I didn’t sign up for the spotlight,” I murmur. “I signed up for Nate.”