Warmth wrapped around us instantly—coffee, baked goods, low chatter, soft music playing overhead. We found a small table near the window and sat down, snow still clinging to our coats.

I leaned back slightly, meeting her eyes.

"See?" I said. "Five-star place."

She smiled, settling into her chair. "Alright. I'll trust you."

"I'll take a lemonade. What about you?"

"Same."

I nodded as the waiter stopped by our table, notepad already in hand.

"Two lemonades," I said, glancing at Mendy. "Right?"

"Yep. Thank you."

The waiter scribbled, gave us a quick nod, and disappeared back toward the counter.

I leaned forward and shrugged out of my jacket, hanging it on the back of my chair. Mendy mirrored me a second later, slipping off her coat and draping it neatly over hers. It felt oddly synchronized, like we'd done this before.

"So," I said, clapping my hands together once and leaning back in my chair. "Ms. Mendy Argin. What's next for you?"

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Life stuff. Work. Dreams. World domination. You have a job?"

"I do," she said. "Customer service support. Mostly online."

"Oh, nice," I nodded. "I honestly thought you were living off your mom's money."

She snorted. "I'm not that desperate, Evan. Relax." Then she sighed. "Though adding metal bars to our windows… yeah. That one hurt my wallet."

"Yeah…" I rubbed the back of my neck. "I really wish Penelope and I had listened to you sooner. Before Richard did what he did."

"You did listen," she said gently. "Eventually. And honestly… um... if I were you, I wouldn't have believed me either. I must've sounded paranoid. Scared. I get it. Really. I get it."

"Still," I muttered. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "I'm actually sick of people apologizing to me, Evan."

"Right. Sorry—" I stopped myself and lifted my hands. "Forget I said anything."

She smiled faintly, then cleared her throat. "Um… how are things with you and—"

The waiter returned right on cue, setting our lemonades down with a practiced motion. Ice clinked against glass. We both murmured thanks, and he left us alone again.

She stared at her drink for a moment, then said, "Never mind."

I stirred my lemonade with the straw. "What were you gonna say?"

She waved it off. "Nothing important. The wind's picking up, huh?"

I glanced out the window. Snow drifted past slowly, streetlights glowing through it. "It does that. Comes and goes whenever it feels like it."

Mendy was outside, enjoying life. She seemed like she was back to her usual self—though I hadn't known her very well before Richard. Still, I could tell that the woman sitting across from me was the real her.

She was a social butterfly. The way she talked—to me, to the waiter, to anyone who passed by—made that obvious. It came naturally to her.

I couldn't understand how someone like her had ever ended up with a guy like Richard, who was just… a dumbass. That was true even before he showed his darker side. I guess it was in him all along. Manipulative. Calculating.

"I like it when you smile," I said without thinking.

She nearly choked on her lemonade. "Oh—" She laughed awkwardly. "That's… kind of a weird thing to say to your friend, Evan."

"Friend," I echoed with a quiet chuckle. "Right."

She looked down, fingers tightening around her glass. "It's just… that night was… weird. I don't regret it, but… yeah. Weird."

"For me?" I said. "No. But I respect what you said after. I'm not gonna creep around your place stealing souvenirs."

She raised an eyebrow. "Souvenirs?"

"Like—" I winced. "Okay, bad joke. I meant—"

She laughed, shaking her head. "I'm over him, Evan. Really. And yeah… it was kind of funny."

"Good," I said, leaning in a little. "Because neon green panties?"

Her face went red instantly. "GOD. Stop."

"I'm just saying," I grinned. "Bold choice."

"There was a sale," she protested. "Buy two, get one free."

"Thank god for sales," I said solemnly. "Neon green works on you."

"STOP," she said again, laughing this time.

I raised my hands in surrender. "Alright. I'm done."

Yeah—I hadn't been lying. I liked it when she smiled like that. I was genuinely glad she was in my life. I didn't need anything more from her to enjoy her company.

She occupied a strange space for me. Not quite a friend, not quite something more—somewhere in between. I wanted more, sure, but pushing her would only ruin what we had. Whatever happened next had to be her choice, and I wasn't about to rush it.

The table fell quiet. We drank our lemonade as a soft breeze moved through the air, filling the silence. After a moment, Mendy adjusted herself and took a steady breath. She looked thoughtful, like something was weighing on her mind.

She sipped her lemonade, still smiling. The silence that followed wasn't awkward—just comfortable. The kind you didn't rush to fill.

After a moment, she set her glass down. "Kayla… how do you two know each other?"

"Through Richard," I said. "Believe it or not."

She sighed softly. "Figures."

"They sat at my table one night," I continued. "He introduced us."

"And you convinced her to tell me the video was fake," she said quietly.

I nodded. "Yeah."

She looked away, then back at me. "I need a loyal friend like you, Evan."

"I didn't know he was like that," I said. "If I had—"

"I know," she cut in gently. "Please don't apologize."

I exhaled. "I just wish things were different. That we'd met some other way."

She studied me for a second, then smiled. "I like what we have."

"So do I," I said.

She lifted her glass and lightly clinked it against mine. "To us, Marlowe."

"To us, Ms. Argin." I replied. "To us."

❤︎❤︎❤︎

I stopped the car in front of Mendy's place and exhaled slowly, my breath fogging up the windshield for a second before the heater cleared it again. The wind had picked up while we were inside Burney's, and now the snow was falling harder, thicker, the flakes rushing sideways under the streetlight like they were in a hurry to get somewhere. The dashboard clock glowed a soft blue. Nine on the dot. The sun was long gone.

I turned my head slightly and looked at her.

Mendy was already looking at me.

She smiled, small at first, then warmer. "Thank you," she said. "For tonight. I really mean it."

I shook my head. "No, thank you. I had a good time. A really good one. I hope you did too."

"I did," she said quickly, then laughed, like she was worried it came out too eager. "I really did."

Silence followed, but it was not awkward. It was the kind of quiet that hummed under your skin. I looked out the windshield again, watching the snow pile up along the curb. Beside me, I could feel her shifting in her seat. Not restless exactly, just keyed up. Her eyes wandered. Dashboard. Window. My hands. Back to the window. Nervous. Excited. I could almost feel it radiating off her.

"Um," she said, then stopped herself.

I glanced back at her. "What's up?"

She took a breath. "I actually needed help with something. If you're okay with it."

"Sure," I said. "What is it?"

"I need to move some stuff in my bedroom," she said. "The bed and the wardrobe. I tried earlier and almost crushed my foot. If you're tired or just want to go, it's totally fine."

I snorted. "And miss out on free labor opportunities."

She laughed. "I'll pay you with a beer."

I grinned. "Only reason I'm saying yes."

"Yes, sir," she said, mock-serious.

We got out of the car together. The cold hit immediately, sharp and clean, snow crunching under our shoes as we hurried to the door. Once inside, warmth wrapped around us, along with that familiar smell of her place. Bread, laundry detergent, something faintly floral. Mendy.

"Brr." She muttered. "Come on, this way… though, you already knew where my bedroom is."

I smiled. "Uh… yep."

Her bedroom looked mostly the same as before, but stepping into it now felt different. More personal. Less like a place I was passing through and more like a space I was being allowed into.

"So," I said, rolling my sleeves up. "What's the game plan?"

"I want the bed closer to the window," she said, pointing. "And the wardrobe needs to shift left a bit. Just enough so I can actually open it without bumping into the wall."

"Alright," I said. "Bed first."

We both grabbed the frame, her hands small but determined, mine gripping the wood. We pushed and the mattress dragged against the floor with a rough scrape.

"Wait," she said, laughing. "It's stuck on the rug."

"I'm pushing," I said. "It's fighting me."

"Lift a little," she said. "On three. One, two, three."

We lifted together. Our hands brushed as we adjusted our grip. It was brief, but it sent a stupid, immediate jolt up my arm. I pulled my hand back a fraction faster than necessary.

"Sorry," I said.

"It's fine," she said, a little too fast.

We set the bed down again and shoved. This time it slid into place with a dull thump against the wall.

"There," I said. "Perfect."

She looked at it, then at me. "You're stronger than you look."

I raised an eyebrow. "Hey. That hurts."

She laughed. "I meant it as a compliment."

"Sure you did."

She turned toward the wardrobe. "Okay. This is the hard one."

We positioned ourselves on either side. I braced my shoulder against it while she pulled from the other end. The wardrobe groaned like it resented being disturbed.

"Why did I buy something this heavy," she muttered.

"For moments like this," I said. "Character development."

She laughed again. We pushed. The wardrobe moved an inch, then another. As it shifted, it tilted slightly and she stumbled forward.

I caught her without thinking, my hands landing at her waist. She froze. I froze.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said softly.

Neither of us moved right away. I could feel the warmth of her through the thin fabric of her sweater. Her breath hitched just a little. When she finally stepped back, she did it slowly.

"Thanks," she said.

"No problem," I said, even though my voice felt rougher than it should have.

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