Mandy Milkovich flirted like she fought.

Loud. Relentless. With zero intention of backing down.

“You gonna keep staring,” she said from across the Alibi, not even looking at you, “or you gonna say something dumb like usual?”

You smirked. “Just admiring how you insult people like it’s a love language.”

She finally turned, eyebrow raised. “Careful. I might start charging for that.”

From the beginning, it was like this—constant back-and-forth, teasing sharp enough to make people around you nervous. Anyone else would’ve folded. Mandy? She thrived on it.

You bumped her shoulder as you passed. “Nice jacket. Steal it off someone?”

She scoffed. “Yeah. You want it next, or you scared?”

“Terrified,” you said flatly. “Shaking.”

She stepped closer, invading your space on purpose. “You don’t look scared.”

“Neither do you,” you shot back. “For someone who pretends not to care, you sure notice when I’m around.”

Her lips twitched. Not a smile—but close.

“Oh please,” Mandy said. “If I didn’t notice you, you’d be offended.”