Mary.

  Mary stood at the front door, fingers twitching against her jacket, trying to look like a calm, functional person.

  She wasn’t.

  Her stomach was doing backflips, and her brain was screaming at her.

  You don’t know these people. You’ve only heard their names. This is Michael’s inner circle. These are his friends. This is important. What the hell are you doing here?

  She could still turn around, right?

  Say she was sick. A sudden bout of food poisoning. Maybe claim The Rat followed her home.

  Before she could commit to her cowardice, the door swung open.

  Kelly.

  Thank God.

  “Mary!” Kelly grinned, leaning against the doorframe like she’d been expecting this exact nervous breakdown.

  Mary tried to play it cool. “Hey.”

  Kelly arched an eyebrow. “You look like you’re trying to escape your body mentally.”

  “Accurate.”

  Kelly laughed, stepping aside. “Come on in. You’re stuck with us now.”

  Inside, the house was warm, filled with the sound of casual laughter and music playing low in the background.

  And there they were—the friends.

  Tom, perched on the arm of a couch, holding a half-eaten bag of chips like it was his life’s work, smirking like he was born to cause problems.

  Jeremiah (or Jeremy, apparently), leaning back in a chair, broad, confident, like the kind of guy who had perfected the art of looking relaxed and ready to start shit at the same time.

  They all looked up when she entered.

  Mary froze.

  “Guys, this is Mary,” Kelly said, waving a hand like she was presenting a contestant on a game show.

  “The Mary?” Tom said, grinning.

  “Michael’s Mary?” Jeremy added, eyes narrowing with playful interest.

  Mary’s brain short-circuited immediately.

  Michael’s Mary?!

  Kelly clapped her hands loudly, cutting through the noise. “Alright, morons. Let her breathe before you scare her off.”

  Mary chuckled weakly, though her face was already warming.

  Michael’s Mary. What the hell does that mean?

  Before Mary could get her bearings, Kelly swooped to the punch bowl like a protective hawk.

  “You—away from this.”

  She pointed accusingly at Mary, who threw up her hands in surrender.

  “Oh, come on! It was one time!”

  Tom snorted. “One time too many.”

  Jeremy grinned. “Legendary, though.”

  Mary groaned, face heating up again. “I didn’t know it was spiked!”

  Kelly crossed her arms. “And yet, you managed to traumatize an entire room.”

  Tom nodded sagely, dead serious. “I saw my life flash before my eyes just from hearing about it.”

  Mary buried her face in her hands, laughing through the embarrassment.

  Great. Fantastic start.

  After the punch trial ended, Mary found herself relaxing a little.

  They talked about nothing and everything—school, terrible jobs, some story about Tom accidentally setting a toaster on fire.

  They were easy to talk to. She could see why Michael liked them.

  But Michael still wasn’t here.

  And every time the door made a sound, she looked up before she could stop herself.

  Mary was mid-sip of soda, finally thinking she was safe, when Jeremy slid into the seat beside her, too casual.

  “So,” he said, grinning like a man about to ruin her life, “Michael’s my best friend.”

  Mary froze mid-sip.

  “…Okay?”

  Jeremy leaned in slightly, still grinning but with that dangerous edge of sincerity.

  “And, you know, he’s been through a lot. I’m just saying… if you hurt him—”

  Mary nearly spat out her drink.

  “WAIT. HOLD ON. IS THIS A SHOVEL TALK?!”

  Everyone in the room turned to look.

  Tom paused mid-chip. Kelly’s eyes went wide before she started laughing so hard she had to hold onto the counter.

  Jeremy looked confused at her outburst. “Uh. Yeah? I thought you’d—”

  “I HAVEN’T GOTTEN ONE OF THESE BEFORE!” Mary yelled, voice high-pitched with panic. “WHY AM I GETTING A SHOVEL TALK?! WE’RE NOT—WE’RE NOT DATING! OH MY GOD!”

  Jeremy blinked slowly, gears visibly turning in his head.

  “You’re… not?”

  Mary’s face was on fire. “NO!”

  Jeremy leaned back, hands up. “Oh. Shit. Nobody told me. I thought—you guys just—”

  “EVERYONE THINKS THAT! WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK THAT?!!”

  Kelly wheeled around, still laughing. “Because you’re embarrassingly obvious when drunk, Mary!”

  Mary buried her face in her hands, dying internally.

  Jeremy looked like he wanted to crawl under the couch. “Sorry. My bad. You two just—uh, vibe, I guess.”

  Mary groaned into her palms.

  Tom, watching the carnage unfold, leaned toward Mary.

  “You know,” he said, grinning, “Michael’s gonna be pissed he missed this.”

  Mary snapped her head up. “DON’T YOU DARE TELL HIM.”

  Tom face palled and nodded before taking another chip.

  Sensing her fragile state, Tom graciously switched the topic.

  “Hey, did Michael ever tell you about the Great Skateboard Incident?”

  Mary perked up, grateful for the distraction. “No. But please tell me everything.”

  Tom leaned in conspiratorially.

  “So, picture this: Michael, age thirteen, trying to impress a girl named Jessica—”

  “Oh god,” Mary muttered.

  “—decides it would be super cool to skateboard down the school hill. Fast. No brakes.”

  Mary winced in anticipation.

  “Flies into a bush. Screaming. The girl leaves with someone else.”

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  Mary howled with laughter, the lingering heat in her face finally fading.

  Mary was mid-laugh, wiping tears from her eyes as Tom finished recounting Michael’s legendary fight with a goose.

  “She wouldn’t stop chasing him!” Tom wheezed. “He—he jumped a fence like his life depended on it. I swear, I thought he was gonna join the circus after that.”

  Mary was gasping for air, her stomach aching from laughter. “Stop! I can’t breathe—”

  The door swung open, and Michael walked in—cake in hand, cheeks pink from the cold outside.

  “Hey—sorry I’m late,” he said, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Grandpa and Liz threw me a mini party, wouldn’t let me leave without cake—”

  He paused.

  He heard the word “goose.”

  He saw Mary dying of laughter.

  He saw Tom smirking like a man who had committed war crimes.

  Michael’s face fell in real-time.

  “Oh no,” he whispered. “What did you tell her?!”

  Michael hurriedly placed the cake on the nearest table—almost missing it—and launched himself at Tom like he was tackling a quarterback.

  “Shut up! Shut up, you traitor!”

  Tom laughed, dodging. “Too late, man. She knows. She knows everything.”

  Mary was in tears, barely holding herself together. “Oh my god—Michael—what is your life?!”

  Michael whirled around, betrayed. “You think this is funny?!”

  Mary gasped between giggles. “YES. It’s so much worse than I imagined.”

  Michael covered his face with both hands, dying inside.

  “Why would you do this to me?” he groaned at Tom.

  Tom grinned, entirely unapologetic. “Brotherhood means nothing when there’s entertainment at stake.”

  Mary, sensing weakness, leaned in, voice dripping with fake sweetness.

  “So, Michael… how’s your relationship with geese these days?”

  Michael stared at her like she had personally ended his bloodline. “Don’t.”

  “Oh! And the skateboard bush incident—how’s your recovery from that?”

  Michael let out a strangled noise, somewhere between a scream and a laugh, waving his hands like he was surrendering.

  “I will leave. I will actually walk out of my own party.”

  Mary grinned wickedly. “No, you won’t. You brought cake.”

  Michael paused, looked at the cake, and sighed in defeat.

  “She’s got me,” he said, slumping onto the couch.

  As the laughter settled into warm chatter, Jeremy leaned against the wall, watching Mary and Michael trade jabs like a comedy duo.

  He opened his mouth, smirking. “You two are seriously—”

  Mary shot him a glare so sharp it could’ve cut glass.

  Jeremy froze mid-sentence. “—great friends. You’re great friends.”

  Mary narrowed her eyes.

  Jeremy mouthed ‘sorry’.

  Michael, blissfully unaware, was cutting into the cake.

  The cake was far from professional-looking, but it was good—Michaels's sister and Grandpa had gone heavy on the frosting, which was clearly more love than skill, but no one cared.

  They ate, talked, and fell into the kind of easy rhythm that only comes when everyone is comfortable with each other.

  Mary felt… good.

  She wasn’t on edge.

  She wasn’t thinking about work.

  She wasn’t thinking about the animatronics.

  Or the Factory.

  She was just here—with Michael, his friends, and bad cake.

  And it was nice.

  Until the singing started.

  “Come on, Mary! You too!” Kelly called out, grinning as she gestured wildly.

  Mary tried to resist. She did.

  But the entire group was singing, and Michael—stupid, blushing Michael—was sitting there with a cake that looked like it had been made with more enthusiasm than skill.

  And he was smiling.

  Mary grumbled, but she joined in, feeling her face heat up as she awkwardly sang Happy Birthday with everyone.

  Michael glanced at her mid-song, and for a brief second, their eyes met.

  His smile got a little wider.

  Mary immediately looked away, because her heart did a weird thing and she hated it.

  After the cake massacre, gifts started getting passed around.

  Kelly got him a cassette tape of a band Michael liked, which came with a snarky note about not breaking it like the last one.

  Tom handed over a T-shirt with some weird character on it, which made Michael laugh hard enough that he almost dropped his fork.

  Then they all looked at Jeremy, expectantly.

  Jeremy froze mid-drink.

  “I—I didn’t get anything,” he lied terribly.

  Everyone stared.

  Kelly narrowed her eyes. “You said last week you had a ‘perfect idea.’”

  Jeremy raised a finger in panic. “I was drunk.”

  Tom grinned. “No, you weren’t.”

  Michael frowned, confused but amused. “Dude, what is it?”

  Jeremy looked like he was about to face a firing squad.

  “It’s… um. In the closet. Just—just come here.”

  Mary’s gut instinct said danger.

  Michael shrugged, standing up. “Alright, let’s see it.”

  Mary, curious, followed—because this had disaster written all over it.

  Jeremy led them to a closet at the end of the hall, looking like a man walking to his execution.

  “Okay,” he said, clasping his hands together in mock prayer.

  “God, spare me from the consequences of what I’m about to do.”

  Michael frowned. “What?”

  Before either of them could react, Jeremy threw open the closet door.

  Mary saw brooms, jackets, and a depressingly small amount of space.

  Then Jeremy shoved both of them inside.

  The door slammed shut.

  The lock clicked.

  Michael blinked in shock.

  Mary’s brain hadn’t caught up yet.

  “What the—Jeremy?!” Michael banged on the door.

  Jeremy’s muffled voice came through: “Sorry! It’s for your own good!”

  Distant laughter. Kelly. Tom. Traitors.

  Mary’s fury ignited like a volcano.

  “OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR TO GOD—”

  Jeremy cut her off. “Love you both—hope you don’t kill me after this. Be back in ten minutes! Bye!”

  Mary heard rapid footsteps as he ran for his life.

  Kelly’s voice, laughing: “Ten-minute timer starts now!”

  Tom: “This is the best thing you’ve ever done.”

  Mary pressed both hands to the door, breathing like a dragon preparing to incinerate a village.

  “I’m going to kill him. I’m going to find him, and—”

  She stopped.

  Because Michael shifted beside her, and his arm brushed hers.

  Mary froze completely.

  Suddenly, the fact that the closet was barely big enough for one person became very, very real.

  Michael’s chest was brushing her shoulder every time he inhaled.

  Their legs were almost touching.

  It was dark, and warm, and Michael smelled like soap and cake frosting, and Mary’s brain was absolutely not built to handle this.

  Her rage was still there, but it was being drowned out by sheer panic.

  “Are you okay?” Michael asked quietly, his voice way too close to her ear.

  Mary squeaked. “I’m fine.”

  Michael shifted slightly, and his knee bumped hers again.

  Mary’s soul left her body.

  Mike.

  Michael was trying his best to be calm.

  He was failing horribly.

  Because Mary was right there.

  And they were touching.

  And his brain was short-circuiting.

  Say something normal. Don’t be weird.

  “So, uh,” Michael cleared his throat, “you enjoying the party?”

  Mary turned her head slightly, eyes wide. “Michael. We are locked in a closet.”

  Michael winced. “Yeah. I don’t know why I asked that.”

  They both laughed nervously, still standing so close that their arms brushed again.

  Michael felt like he might actually die.

  Mary.

  Mary was going to kill Jeremy.

  No, worse.

  She was going to haunt him. Forever.

  The closet was tiny.

  Smaller than she’d realized when she got shoved in here with Michael.

  It was cramped, dark, and warm, the air getting stuffy fast—and Michael’s shoulder was pressed against hers.

  Their arms brushed with every twitch.

  His leg was next to hers.

  Their hips bumped if either of them shifted a little too much.

  And he smelled good—soap, a little cologne, and cake frosting—which was offensively attractive given that this was supposed to be a stupid prank.

  Mary was losing her mind.

  Michael, bless his awkward soul, was also panicking, but his version was nervous rambling.

  “So, uh… yeah, they’re definitely not letting us out soon,” Michael said, voice low, but slightly strained.

  “I think Jeremy’s probably halfway to Mexico by now. You know, witness protection. And Kelly—Kelly’s definitely filming this or something. This is gonna haunt me forever.”

  Mary pressed her back against the wall, trying to create space that didn’t exist, but it just made her thigh press against his more.

  She was so hyper-aware of his body that she couldn’t even focus on her anger anymore.

  Her heart was pounding, her skin felt hot, and her brain was screaming at her:

  Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t think about his lips. Don’t—

  Michael, clearly trying to fill the unbearable tension, kept talking.

  “I mean, this isn’t the worst birthday, I guess. Cake was good. Until I heard about the goose thing. That was… yeah, I’m never living that down, huh?”

  Mary wasn’t listening.

  Because the heat—the closeness, his voice, and her heart racing like a goddamn freight train—was too much.

  Screw it.

  Her brain short-circuited, and before she could stop herself, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

  It was meant to be quick, just a dumb, playful thing to break the tension—except her lips lingered a second too long.

  The second she pulled back, her brain caught up.

  Oh my god. Oh my god, what did I just do?

  Michael froze mid-sentence.

  Like, literally froze. Mouth open. Words dead.

  Silence.

  Awful, deafening silence.

  Mary’s entire body flushed red.

  She laughed, but it came out high-pitched and desperate.

  “Ha! Uh… happy birthday? That was—like—a gift. You know, since I didn’t bring one. Joke kiss. Just a joke. Ha.”

  Michael blinked slowly, processing.

  “Oh. Uh… thanks?”

  They both stared at each other, barely breathing.

  It was so hot in there—but it wasn’t just the heat.

  The air between them felt different.

  Mary’s heart was slamming against her ribs so hard she thought Michael could probably hear it.

  Michael’s hand twitched by his side.

  He was looking at her, really looking, like he was seeing her for the first time—or maybe like he’d been seeing her this whole time and just hadn’t known what to do about it.

  And then—he moved.

  Slowly, like he was giving her time to pull away.

  Like he was scared he was making a mistake.

  But he lifted his hand, gently cupping her cheek, and leaned in.

  Mary’s brain screamed in panic, but her body didn’t move away.

  Their lips met, and it was soft and unsure, but it felt right.

  Warm.

  His hand was trembling slightly against her face, and her hands clutched his shirt like she needed something to hold onto.

  It was awkward but somehow perfect.

  They pulled back after a few seconds, both wide-eyed, breathless, and red-faced.

  Mary stared at him.

  Michael stared back, mouth slightly open like he was trying to think of words and failing completely.

  “…Oh,” Mary whispered.

  “…Yeah,” Michael breathed.

  There was another pause, and then Mary suddenly laughed.

  “Oh, what the hell,” she muttered.

  And she grabbed his shirt and kissed him again.

  This time, Michael kissed her back without hesitation.

  Her hands slid up into his hair.

  His fingers pressed gently into her waist.

  And for a minute, the cramped, sweaty closet didn’t exist.

  It was just them.

  When they finally broke apart again, both of them were breathing heavily, faces completely flushed.

  Mary leaned back against the wall, dazed.

  Michael ran a hand through his hair, grinning like a complete idiot but also like he might faint.

  “So… uh…” Michael started.

  Mary held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t. I’m processing.”

  Michael nodded quickly, equally overwhelmed.

  “Yeah. Processing. Cool. Same.”

  They sat in silence for another minute, occasionally glancing at each other and immediately looking away when their eyes met.

  Mary’s lips were still tingling.

  Eventually, the closet door creaked open, revealing Kelly and Tom grinning like they’d won the lottery.

  Kelly raised an eyebrow. “You two didn’t kill each other?”

  Mary straightened, trying to act normal. “Nope. Totally fine.”

  Michael nodded too quickly. “Fine. Yep. Great.”

  Tom squinted. “You guys are weird.”

  Kelly frowned slightly, eyes narrowing like she sensed something—but before she could say anything, Jeremy’s head peeked around the corner, cautious like a man fearing execution.

  Mary locked eyes with him.

  Jeremy froze.

  “Run,” Mary said.

  Jeremy ran. Mary was right behind him.