Page 21

Chapter twenty

Mandy

T he 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?" "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 dating a hot athlete. You’re dating the hot 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.”

“And he signed up for you,” she says, gently but firmly. “Look, people are going to talk. They’re nosy. They speculate. Especially when they see a girl they thought they understood doing something unexpected, like being happy.”

I wrap my hands around my coffee, letting the warmth bleed into my fingers. “I don’t even care what strangers think. I really don’t. It’s just... this weird feeling, like I stepped outside of myself. Like suddenly my choices are up for public commentary.”

Kira nods slowly. “It’s disorienting. But it’s not forever. The novelty wears off for them. You’ll always be the one living it, though.”

“And that’s what scares me,” I admit. “What if this isn’t something I’m built for?”

Kira leans forward. “Mandy, you’re built for a hell of a lot more than some jealous randos in a group chat. You’ve got a vision, a plan. You don’t just float through life like most people. You choose. ”

I go quiet. Her words settle over me, both comforting and slightly overwhelming.

“I know I’m not some influencer or Instagram girlfriend,” I say softly. “And I don’t want to be. But I also don’t want to be the reason people talk shit about Nate. Or think he downgraded.”

Kira makes a scoffing sound. “Anyone who thinks Nate Jones downgraded by being with you should be banned from the internet.”

I offer a tiny smile, grateful.

“He hasn’t texted yet,” I say after a pause. “Not that he has to. It’s just…”

“Today of all days, you want the reminder.”

I nod.

Kira’s voice is gentler this time. “Give it time. He probably doesn’t even know any of this is happening. And he’s not gonna care when he does. But if it’s bothering you, tell him.”

“I will,” I say. “Just... not yet.”

The cards are still in front of me, my highlighter waiting like an eager puppy. I pick one up and read it twice before realizing I haven’t absorbed a word.

My phone buzzes again. I don’t look this time.

Somewhere in the back of my head, a question rises:

Can I have the life I want, and the guy I want, without it turning into a circus?

I wish I knew the answer.

I close the group chat and set my phone down like it’s radioactive. My flashcards are still sitting there, waiting. Highlight uncapped. Focus shattered.

I shuffle them without looking.

The logical part of me says it doesn’t matter.

But the quiet part of me whispers: This is only going to get harder.

I check my phone again. No message from Nate yet.

Not unusual. He has morning skate. Or team meetings. Or maybe he’s just not a morning texter.

But today it feels... different.

Like the moment I walked into the light with him, the shadows started closing in.

I rub my temple and push my flashcards aside.

I didn’t mind falling for him behind closed doors.

It’s what happens when the world starts watching that terrifies me.