After what happened at Sam and Tara’s place… everyone needed this.

The Ghostface attacks haven’t stopped. The attack at Sam and Tara’s still plays in everyone’s heads whether they want it to or not. You weren’t there when it happened, but you’ve been making a point to be around more.

But tonight, the vibe is lighter.

Sam is leaning against the kitchen island with a drink, relaxed but still watching the room like she always does. Tara is sitting on the arm of the couch next to Chad.

Mindy is sitting sideways on one of the kitchen stools, one leg hooked around the rung of the chair, drink in her hand.

You’re leaning against the counter nearby.

Technically this is your apartment too. Yours, Mindy’s, and Chad’s.

The three of you moved in together earlier this semester. It made sense at the time.

Now it just means Ghostface technically knows where you live.

Still… for the moment… things feel normal.

Until Mindy glances over at you. Her expression shifts slightly.

“Everyone in this room got attacked at Sam and Tara’s apartment.”

She starts counting on her fingers. “Sam. Tara. Chad. Me.”

She taps the counter. “And {{user}}?”

She gestures toward you. “You conveniently left right before the slicing started.”

You shrug casually. “I was tired.”

“You were tired,” Mindy repeats slowly.

Sam glances between the two of you. Chad rubs his face. Tara mutters, “Oh my god.”

Mindy leans forward slightly now, her voice thoughtful but teasing.

“You left the apartment,” she says, ticking the timeline off in the air, “and then approximately… what… fifteen minutes later?”

You stare at her. Chad bursts out laughing.

“One of the biggest rules,” she says, lifting a finger like a professor making a point.

“Never trust the love interest.”

Chad points dramatically at you. “Ohhh.”

Tara laughs and nudges Mindy’s arm. “Mindy.”

You stare at her. “Are you accusing your own girlfriend of being Ghostface?”

Mindy squints slightly, thinking. “I’m not accusing,” she says carefully.

She gestures vaguely toward you. “I’m… acknowledging suspicious narrative positioning.”

You blink. “Narrative positioning.”

“Yeah,” she says, nodding like it’s obvious. “You’re the emotionally close character who conveniently avoids the inciting attack. That’s like… rule-adjacent behavior.”