Chapter Twenty: The Friend Test

Chapter This is Mira’s story — part fiction, part reflection, wholly honest.
(Each chapter will end with a note from her writing, signed as your trusted friend.)

🎧 Listen while you read: “Dopamine” by Frac Moody
For the moment someone walks into your world and makes your whole nervous system sit up and say: Oh. It’s you.

Mira’s Story: The Friend Test
When someone meets your friends, and still wants to stay

It was Halley’s idea, naturally. “Dinner,” she said. “String lights. Loud music. Mismatched plates. Controlled chaos. No hiding. Bring him.”

Mira hesitated for a beat, but Halley didn’t wait for an answer. She just sent a group text with a date and a time.

Rowan didn’t blink when Mira mentioned it.

He just smiled and said, “What kind of wine do I bring?”

---

The apartment belonged to Tess but felt like all of theirs. It was an ever-evolving canvas of thrifted art, warm lighting, and plants in various states of survival. Samara was already dancing in the kitchen. Halley, barefoot and in command, was stirring something fragrant on the stove. Cora was sitting on the counter with a glass of wine in hand. She called it supervising the chaos.

And then there was Jude, sweet and steady, the only man who could, so far, hold his own among them. Mira had once called him the honorary wife. He didn’t disagree.

Rowan and Mira arrived with two bottles of wine and a bakery bag of warm bread. Pepper was at a friend’s house, which meant the night belonged to the grown-ups.

Halley opened the door with a look Mira knew too well. It was one of half welcome, half evaluation.

Rowan passed.

As Rowan stepped inside his eyes scanned the warm-lit, overfull space. Laughter in the kitchen. Music pulsing in the walls. A crooked painting, a cat he couldn’t tell if he imagined.

He smiled. “This is… very you.”

They hugged, handed over the wine, and were ushered in. The music was vibey and too loud, the lighting low and golden, everything smelling of herbs and garlic and something just on the edge of burning.

Dinner was laughter layered over meaning. There were sarcastic jokes, deep questions, wine refills, and cross-table conspiracies. At one point, Samara leaned across Rowan and said, “So you’re the infamous Rowan. We’ve heard whispers. And flannel reports.”

“Oh no,” Mira muttered. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Oh yes,” Tess chimed in. “We know about the dimple. The picnic. The muffins. Annnnd the flannel…her particular favorite was the one with the pearl snap buttons.”

Mira could feel herself blushing and sent Tess a warning look.

That shirt had inspired a very specific fantasy that she may have shared over a voice memo rant, and she was fairly certain at least one of these women had saved the audio.

“Mira doesn’t bring people to our table often,” Halley added, her tone gentler. “Not unless they matter.”

Mira’s breath caught. She didn’t say anything, but she felt it, in her chest, her stomach, the quietest parts of her.

Rowan didn’t flinch. “Well. I’m honored to be here. She makes it easy to want to show up.”

Mira could’ve kissed him right then and there. Not because it was smooth. Because it felt true. Quietly sincere. And she wasn’t used to being spoken about like that, in front of others, no pretense.

---

She briefly remembered the few she had introduced to her inner sanctum. Not one person she’d dated had ever passed her friends’ test. She felt her breath catch just slightly as her body remembered the first man she’d enthusiastically brought into her friend group.

In the kitchen, he’d been leaning against the counter, making fun of Mira, trying to charm her friends with a smug smile and secondhand jokes.

“She’s kind of like a sexy goldfish,” he said, swirling his scotch. “Every five minutes it’s a new random ass thought. Yesterday it was living on a cloud. This morning? Talking to crows. She says the weirdest shit and thinks it’s profound. Honestly, I just nod and smile.”

Mira had stood beside him in shock. Not sure what to say or how to respond. But Halley had turned around slowly, spatula still in hand. “You do not talk about her like that.”

Samara didn’t blink. “She’s not a joke, dude.”

He lifted his hands. “Relax. I’m kidding. She’s magical. Or whatever.”

Mira had weakly laughed and changed the subject.

“It’s not funny,” Halley had responded with bite in her voice.

The crack had already formed. And later, it would split wide open.

That man made her doubt herself in front of her own people. Rowan made her feel entirely at home in hers.

---

But the moment passed. And the teasing returned, the good-natured kind. The kind that heals what the old kind once tried to break.

He saw her there, laughing with her people, eyes bright, shoulders relaxed. And he saw how much she was loved. How fiercely, how completely.

It made him feel lucky.

Cora leaned back in her chair, wine glass in hand, “Okay Rowan. Final round. Honest answer only.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow, smiling. “That sounds… foreboding.”

Halley didn’t smile. “What are your intentions with our girl?”

Mira looked down at her wine glass, feeling both embarrassed and expectant as she waiting for Rowan’s response.

He didn’t flinch. Just looked over at Mira, then back at them. “To keep showing up. To let her be exactly who she is. And to be the kind of man who earns a seat at this table.”

Samara whistled. “Damn. Okay, flannel.”

Jude held up a fork. “Hear! Hear!”

Mira just shook her head, cheeks flushed, but glowing. Not embarrassed. Seen.

After dessert, while the others argued about whether or not The Holiday was a perfect movie, Rowan followed Mira into the kitchen.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low.

“I am,” she said. “They didn’t scare you off?”

“Not even close. But they made one thing really clear.”

She looked up. “What’s that?”

He reached for her hand, fingers brushing hers.

“That I better show up like I mean it. Because you’re surrounded by the kind of love people earn.”

Mira softened. “They’re my roots.”

Rowan smiled. “Then I’m hoping I get to keep showing up. Long enough to grow something real with you.”

She didn’t answer right away. Just let his words settle between them, warm and steady. Then she squeezed his hand back.

Mira excused herself to the bathroom, leaving her glass near the sink.

Rowan stepped toward the counter to rinse a plate just as Halley slid in beside him, barefoot and casually lethal.

“You’re doing well,” she said. “They like you. Jude even said you smell good. That’s not an easy feat.”

“Appreciate that,” he said, scrubbing the plate. Calm.

She didn’t move. Just watched him. “I know what she sees in you. But do you know why you’re drawn to her?”

Rowan paused what he was doing. Turned toward her. Met her gaze without flinching.

“Is it who she is now?” Halley continued, voice quiet but cutting. “Or the version of her you think you can hold onto?”

Rowan’s jaw tightened slightly, not defensive, just… bracing.

“She’s not light you get to bask in,” Halley added. “She’s a whole damn sun. She’s spent to long dimming herself for people who couldn’t take the heat.”

He set the plate down gently. “I know who she is. And I’m not trying to hold onto anything. I’m just… trying to be someone who’s safe to keep shining around.”

Halley tilted her head. Studying him. Then nodded slowly, towel still in hand.

“Good answer,” she said. “Keep doing that. Just know, she’s been through some shit. Be kind. Even when she acts like she doesn’t need it.”

She handed him the towel and smirked. “Dry that one. I’m still watching you.”

Then she turned to walk away, paused, and added over her shoulder:

“Also… use your words with her. She’ll survive without them, but she’ll start to wonder if she’s lovable, or just useful. Don’t let her fill in the silence with doubt.”

Then Halley walked off completely unbothered, like she hadn’t just said something important.

In the hallway bathroom, Mira pressed her hands to the sink and met her own eyes in the mirror. Steady.

She splashed cool water onto her face and looked up, only to feel it.

That flicker.

The way her stomach tensed without permission.

It surprised her, the memory. Not in words or thoughts, but in sensation. The shame. The heat in her cheeks. The way her arms had crossed over her chest, trying to make herself smaller while someone she loved tried to make her a punchline.

She hadn’t thought of that time in a long time. Not really. But her body had remembered. Had kept record.

And now, here, tonight, her body felt something else entirely. Safe. Seen. Cherished. Celebrated.

Still her. Not the version someone once joked about. Not the girl who shrank. Not the woman who stayed when she should leave. She smiled at her reflection, just a little. This was terrifying in a totally different way than that night. In a good way.

When she stepped out, Tess was leaning against the wall, wine glass balanced on her fingertips.

“Bathroom check-in,” Tess said, mock-serious.

“Oh no. Am I in trouble?”

Tess shook her head. “Nah. Just making sure your heart’s still in the room.”

Mira paused. “It is.”

Tess watched her for a beat longer. “You feel steady. Not just safe, but steady?”

“Honestly?” Mira glanced toward the kitchen, where Rowan’s laugh floated into the hallway. “Yeah. Not just calm. More like… I actually feel more like myself around him. Like I’m remembering parts I’d forgot and tucked away. There’s just something about him that feels like… like… an invitation. And he doesn’t even have to say a word. I didn’t even realize how much I’d been holding back until I didn’t have to. I used to spend nights like this monitoring myself and tending someone else’s nervous system.”

She paused, then grinned. “Which is either incredibly healthy… or how cults start. Hard to say.”

Tess smiled. “That’s the good kind. The rare kind. And so much better than what you’ve settled for in the past. And Mira, that makes me so happy.”

She looped her arm through Mira’s. “Come on. They’re about to start debating The Holiday again, and Halley’s gonna need backup.”

---

Letters from The Clever Confidante: Let Them Meet the Real Me
Let them meet the real me. The messy, magic version, surrounded by people who call me forward.

We all have our tests.
For some, it’s how they handle silence. For others, it’s how they argue. For me? It’s whether they can sit at a table with my people and see me.

Not just the curated version. Not just the one with stories and charm and a good dress.

But the full me. The one laughing too loud. The one who’s roasted by friends who know every past heartbreak. The one who forgets to hold her stomach in or filter her opinions.

And, better yet, whether my people are still able to see me, because they know all too well how I can disappear inside relationships.

I’ve shapeshifted before.
Dimmed. Softened. Smoothed edges that weren’t actually sharp, just honest.
But this time, I feel seen. And my people saw it too.

Because that’s the beauty of real community: they are our mirrors.
They reflect back not just what’s working, but also the places we might be shrinking.
They hold us to our truth when the rose-colored glasses start to fog.

And when they say: “He sees you. You’re still you.”
That’s when I exhale.

I don’t know why this has been such a long lesson in coming.
So many of the people I allowed my heart to love were not worth of holding such a delicate gift.
And every time my friends knew.

Our tribe, if we’ve done a good job in creating it, only want what is best for us.
They have an outside view we never will.
So, when they say, “That’s not funny,” to a parter who has just made fun of you.
You should listen, instead of laughing along.

You should listen, instead of distancing yourself from the people you love because you don’t like what you see in the mirror.

Because love should never cost you your people.
And your people will always know if it’s real.

Always,
Your Trusted Friend ❤

Have you ever introduced someone to your closest people—and realized it told you more than a thousand date nights ever could?
(Share your friend-test stories in the comments—or whisper it to the version of you who’s learning that love, the kind that stays, will meet you in your most uncurated spaces. She’s listening.)

☁️ New here? You can start Mira’s Story from the beginning with Chapter Zero.

➡️✨ Continue Mira’s Story with Chapter Twenty-One: Thresholds

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