Page 11

Chapter eleven

Nate

I t’s all noise, bodies, and heat the second I step inside.

It’s one of those spots with exposed brick walls, Edison bulbs hanging low over the tables, and music loud enough to give the illusion of privacy without making conversation impossible.

Half our team’s already claimed a corner booth and a cluster of tables.

There are beers and cocktail glasses spread out like a welcome mat of bad decisions.

Connor and Haley are tucked in close, her laugh cutting through the noise.

Parker’s got Grace on one side and Stacy on the other, probably swapping dad jokes.

Mikey and Dillon are already arguing over who’s the better beer pong player, while James is perched like a gremlin on a stool, scanning for trouble and clearly finding it.

Mandy walks in with Kira, flanked by two friends I vaguely recognize from the housewarming party. One’s tall with model vibes—Priya, maybe?—and the other, Lexi, is already raising her arms like she just won a touchdown.

Kira spots the table, then points dramatically at me. "There he is! Detroit’s finest defenseman with the most questionable taste in sweatpants."

I raise my beer in salute. "Nice to see you too, Hurricane Kira."

Mandy laughs behind her hand, but not before I catch it. She looks good. Like, pause-your-life-and-stare good. Tight jeans. Black fitted sweater. Ponytail that says I didn’t try but still crushed it.

"You’re staring," James says under his breath.

"I’m evaluating."

"Uh-huh. Is that what we’re calling thirst these days?"

Before I can elbow him, Kira and the girls descend.

"Drinks, people," Kira announces. "We need drinks, food, and someone to tell me I’m too much."

"You’re too much," Parker offers without missing a beat.

"Thank you. Someone’s listening," Kira fires back.

Mandy slides into the seat next to me, her knee brushing mine. "This table looks like a disaster zone."

"That’s because it is," I say. "We thrive on it."

"Noted."

James leans over with a grin, lifting his glass toward Mandy. "I gotta say, Mandy, your presence has dramatically increased the average IQ and overall charm level at this table."

Mandy raises an eyebrow. "So, we’re starting with flattery? That’s suspicious."

Kira jumps in. "Quick, someone check if he’s running a fever."

"I’m serious," James says, holding up his hands. "Nate’s been broody since preseason. Now he’s cracking jokes and almost smiling. Coincidence? I think not."

Mandy glances at me. "I’m going to need that in writing for future blackmail purposes."

"I’ll notarize it myself," Kira adds. "This table needs more witnesses."

Lexi’s already making friends with Mikey, who is giving her the full dramatic reenactment of his only fight this season, complete with a barstool as the opponent.

"It’s a rare treat," James whispers to Priya, motioning to Mikey. "He usually only performs during full moons or after tequila."

Priya raises a brow. "What happens with both?"

"We don’t talk about it. Legal reasons."

The waitress comes by and takes our drink orders. Mandy gets something citrusy. I stick with beer. Kira orders a round of shots “for team bonding.” It’s a lineup of poor decisions in liquid form.

"To questionable choices!" Kira declares.

"To not getting fined tomorrow!" James echoes.

"To the fact that Mandy keeps showing up and hasn’t run away yet," I add, lifting my glass toward her.

She clinks it with mine. "I like a challenge...and my new study digs."

"Careful," I murmur. "I do too and you're welcome. It's safer than walking home alone at night."

Her eyes flick up. Just for a second. But it lands like a hit to the chest.

Kira chimes in. "Safer? Maybe in some respects, but not others."

Mandy elbows her and Kira chuckles.

Twenty minutes later, the table’s a mix of laughter and overlapping conversations. Kira is talking Priya into crashing the guys’ next charity skate. Haley and Grace are plotting a girls’ brunch. I catch Mandy watching me over her drink, her lips curved like she’s in on a secret I haven’t been told.

"Come here," I say quietly, standing.

She blinks. "Where?"

"Just…" I gesture toward another room in the back. "Trust me."

She grabs her drink and follows without hesitation, weaving through the crowd.

We end up in a room with a pool table and high top tables.

This room is calmer. No loud laughs or beer sloshing across tables like the front.

Just a pool table, a few high tops, and enough space to breathe.

It’s dim, quiet in that low-key way that says you can take your time here.

Run a game. Nurse a drink. Watch without being watched.

"What’s up?" she asks.

"I needed five minutes without James narrating our body language."

"He’s observant."

"He’s a menace."

I step closer. Not too close. But close enough that I can smell her perfume. Her eyes catch mine. She doesn’t look away.

"Hey," I say, scratching the back of my neck. "Can I show you something?"

She raises a brow. "Show me what?"

"You’ll see. It’s stupid. But also not." I take a folded piece of paper out of my wallet.

She gives me a look. "If this ends in a magic trick, I’m walking."

I laugh. "Not quite. I, uh, I remembered something earlier when you were talking about liking a challenge."

She tilts her head. "Yeah?"

"When I got traded here, I made this list. Stupid goals. Like, get to know the local pizza guy, don’t punch any teammates in the first week, stuff like that."

"Reasonable."

"One of them was: Don’t get distracted." I point that out on the list and then fold the paper up again and put it away.

She arches a brow. "And how’s that going?"

I smirk. "Terribly. Because now every time I see you, I forget what the hell I was doing five minutes earlier."

She pauses. Her breath fogs between us. "That’s... a line."

"It’s also the truth."

Her voice softens. "What made you remember the list?"

I shrug. "You laughed at something James said. I looked at you, and boom. List gone. All I could think was how you’ve managed to hijack my focus. And I kinda don’t mind."

She stares at me for a moment. "Okay, I’ll admit, that’s better than a magic trick."

She laughs, and the sound settles between us like a secret. There’s something in the way she’s looking at me now, like she’s trying to figure me out, and liking what she sees. And that’s dangerous. Because every second we stand here, I’m less interested in playing it safe.

"You’re funnier than I expected," she says softly.

"That’s not how I expected that sentence to start."

"And you’re... different. Not what people assume."

"You mean not a cocky player who hits on anything with a pulse?"

She shrugs, playful. "The bar was low."

I chuckle. "Good to know I’m clearing it."

We fall quiet for a beat.

Then she says, "My sister doesn't think you do, but every time we talk, you surprise me."

My throat tightens. "Good surprise?"

"Maybe."

I don’t move. But I want to.

She shifts, just slightly. Like maybe she wants to too.

Our eyes lock. The moment stretches until she moves to sip her drink.

Then…

"There you are!"

We both jump as James barrels around the corner, drink in hand.

"Jesus," Mandy mutters.

James looks between us, then smirks. "Ohhhh. Sorry. Was I interrupting? Wait, don’t answer. Your faces already did."

"Go away," I say without heat.

He lifts his hands. "Say no more, Romeo. Just here to warn you, Kira challenged Parker to a shot contest. Grace is filming. Bedlam is brewing."

He disappears with a wink.

Mandy and I look at each other. She’s biting her lip.

"He’s the worst," I say.

"He’s also kind of the best."

"Debatable."

We start walking back, but slower. Like maybe we’re both a little unwilling to let go of whatever that almost was.

The night keeps rolling like a highlight reel on fast forward.

Kira and Parker are mid-shot showdown, cheered on by half the bar and judged ruthlessly by Grace, who’s filming it on her phone with live commentary. "Parker’s still got the edge on volume, but Kira’s form? Flawless."

"I was made for this," Kira declares, slamming down a shot glass with flair. "College didn’t teach me much, but it did teach me endurance."

"Careful," Parker grins. "I’ve got dad reflexes. You’re outmatched."

"Is that what we’re calling early bedtime energy now?"

Meanwhile, James and Ethan have somehow become Kira’s honorary wingmen, or prey, it’s hard to tell. She flirts with both, switching targets every few minutes just to keep them off balance.

"You’ve got the jawline," she tells James, twirling a straw. "But Ethan’s got that dangerous little smirk. Honestly, I’m conflicted."

Ethan smirks harder. "If you need help deciding, I’ve got a spreadsheet ready."

"Are there graphs?"

"Pie charts."

"Sold."

Lexi and Priya wedge themselves into the banter like pros. Lexi’s critiquing James’s drink choice ("A whiskey sour? Bold. Conflicted. Possibly compensating.") while Priya and Mandy exchange knowing looks over their cocktails.

Mandy leans in to me, voice just loud enough to cut through the music. "Your teammates are unhinged."

"Completely."

"It’s kind of great."

I grin. "They grow on you. Like mold."

"The charming kind of mold."

"Exactly."

Across the table, Lexi leans toward Mandy. "Okay, serious question. If you had to choose one of these guys to be stranded on a desert island with, who would it be?"

Mandy lifts an eyebrow. "Alive or dead?"

"Alive, obviously. Otherwise it’s a horror movie."

Kira chimes in, already pointing. "Mikey. He’d make friends with a coconut and create an entire society in three hours."

"I would," Mikey agrees. "It would be called Mikeyland, and I’d rule with charm and slight delusion."

James raises his glass. "I’d give Mikeyland twenty-four hours before it devolves into a musical."

Ethan nods solemnly. "And I’d be cast as the brooding anti-hero."

"I’d pay to see that," Priya says. "Especially if there’s choreography."

The banter goes on like that, wild and sharp and a little unhinged in the best way. Mandy’s relaxed now, leaning back, laughing harder and more freely than I’ve seen before. Her smile is the kind that makes you forget how loud the world is.

At one point, she catches me staring and quirks a brow. "What?"

I shrug. "Just watching you win over everyone."

"Is that what I’m doing?"

"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.