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My entire body goes still.

Kira, standing behind her, mutters, "I was about two seconds from spilling champagne on her shoes."

Mandy exhales, brushing a loose curl from her cheek. "She didn’t stop there. Said she follows all the team accounts and keeps tabs on who’s dating whom, like it’s her full-time job. Told me she was 'just surprised' to see me, because I didn’t seem like Nate’s type."

Kira's eyes narrow. "I was like...what the hell does that even mean?"

"Exactly." Mandy folds her arms. "She said something about how your last girlfriend was always posting gym selfies and brand collabs and tagging him in everything. Said I must be new to the scene."

Kira scoffs, then tilts her head. "So I smiled and said, 'Yeah, she’s new all right, new to putting up with shallow commentary and fake designer bags.'" She gives Nate a pointed look. "Then I asked her if she needed help finding the exit or just preferred to slither away quietly."

I high-five Kira.

She grins, still fired up. "That woman had so much filler in her face, I thought she was going to pop if she smiled too wide. Probably spent as much time contouring her cheekbones as she did learning the players names and dating histories."

"Oof, that's rough. I feel a cat fight coming," I joke.

Kira crosses her arms and continues. "You know the type...sparkle filter selfies, 'boss babe' in her bio, and thinks dating a hockey player is a career strategy. Probably trying to sleep her way into a sponsored bridal post."

I snort. Mandy tries to hold back a laugh but fails.

"It just threw me off." Mandy’s voice softens. "I know it shouldn't matter what some random chick says, but it felt like I was being measured against this invisible checklist I didn’t know existed. Like I’m already behind and I haven’t even figured out if I belong in this world."

"Mandy."

She waves it off. "It's fine. I just... wasn’t expecting it."

I grab her hand. Tight.

"By the way, you’re not a flavor," I say, low and serious. "You’re the fucking main course."

She smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

Something's shifting. I can feel it.

And I don’t like where it’s going.

Chapter twenty-two

Mandy

The apartment is quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustle of a page as I flip through my bar exam notes. I'm sitting cross-legged at the kitchen table, still wrapped in Nate’s hoodie, the one that swallows me whole and smells faintly like his aftershave. The sleeves are too long, and the cuffs are a little frayed, but I love it anyway.

Kira's out, which means I finally have some silence. There’s a mug of tea cooling beside me, and my laptop sits open, paused on an outline I can’t seem to concentrate on. I pick up the next flashcard. Torts. Great.

I read the definition twice and retain nothing.

My phone buzzes. I glance at the screen, expecting maybe a text from Nate. The team had a few away games this week, butthey flew home last night. He sent me a text when they landed but I was already sleeping.

But, no, it’s a Facebook notification. Detroit Acers has posted new photos.

Curiosity wins. I tap.

A slideshow from the team’s post-game outing from a few nights ago loads.Celebrating the win,the caption says, complete with little trophy and fire emojis. I swipe through a few pictures of the guys at a swanky rooftop bar. Connor is doing a stupid dance. Parker has a drink raised in one hand and a kid-like grin on his face. James is photobombing someone.

And then I see it.

Nate.