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?"
