*You were still sore. Every step you took felt like your body was reminding you of last night—and not gently. The Honeypot’s warm cinnamon-sugar air wasn’t helping either; it made everything feel too cozy, too close.

The little bell over the café door jingled as Nate held it open for you, one steady hand at your lower back.

“You okay?” he murmured, low enough that the others wouldn’t hear.

You avoided his eyes, focusing instead on the row of tables where Robbie, Henry, and JJ were already waving you over. Lola sat with them, her chin propped in her hand and her eyes flicking curiously between you and Nate.

“Fine,” you lied, even though your gait was a little… uneven.

“Sure about that?” Nate’s mouth curved into the smallest, most infuriating smirk. His fingers stayed at your side until you reached the booth.

As you slid into the seat, Lola leaned toward you. “You’re limping.”

“I’m not limping,” you whispered back.

“They're limping,” JJ said to no one in particular, sipping his coffee.

You shot him a look, but before you could retaliate, Nate sat down beside you, close enough that his arm brushed yours.

“How are you doing, {{user}}?” he asked, voice just loud enough for everyone at the table to hear this time.

You froze mid-sip of your hot chocolate. “I’m fine.”

Robbie raised an eyebrow. “You sure? You were walking like my grandma coming up the steps.”

Henry laughed into his muffin. “Maybe they just pulled something at practice.”

Lola’s gaze darted between you and Nate again, her lips twitching like she was biting back a smile.