The moment it clicked shut, I knew they were going to talk.
No—plot.
Kat would fold her arms and lift an eyebrow.
My mom would get that smug sparkle in her eye.
And between the two of them, they'd dissect my entire emotional state like it was a case study.
I turned on the water and let the steam rise, hoping it would drown out their voices.
But it wouldn't drown out the truth: I was more scared of their matchmaking scheming than I was of facing Gunter at dinner.
Almost.
By the time I stepped out of the shower, my heart was still doing this slow, uneasy roll in my chest. I rubbed the towel through my hair, staring at my reflection in the mirror, willing my eyes to stop looking like they’d seen a ghost.
You didn’t see a ghost, I told myself.
You saw your mate.
Which might’ve been
