Chapter 43

Friday, November 22nd

Finn

“Come on, Finn. Churn those toddler-length legs,” Ace chastises as we run past Brower Center. Blake laughs and looks back at me while I do my best to look at my phone, give Ace the finger, and run without dying at the same time.

We got another Double C text half an hour ago, just as I was settling in for a night in bed watching Netflix on my laptop, instructing us to be at the back of McKinley Library five minutes from now. I begged off—even with the potential for more money—but Ace was relentless.

Now, though, my sibling group message is in full swing, thanks to Willow, and if I don’t answer, Jack and Trav will end up doing something stupid just to get my attention. Trust me, it’s happened before.

Willow: The dress is perfect! Thank you, Finney!!!

I smile down at the photo of my sister in her homecoming dress and roll my eyes a little at the redheaded idiot who is standing beside her. His name is Crew, and he’s my sister’s newest boyfriend. Poor sap looks like he thinks he has a chance at longevity.

Me: You look beautiful, Low. Have fun, but don’t do anything stupid.

Willow: So, don’t do anything Jack or Travis would do? LOL.

Trav: Hey, I resemble that remark!

Jack: Finn’s the one robbing banks to buy dresses and shit.

Me: I’m not robbing banks.

Trav: Of course, Finney. Gotta keep this thread clean in case of an investigation.

Me: I’m not robbing banks.

Jack: Willow, how much did that dress cost again?

Trav: Maybe he’s just rich by association now because of all his rich friends.

Willow: Shut up, guys. Stop making Finn feel bad.

“Finn!” Ace yells again, waving me forward from the bottom of the steps that lead into the basement of the library. “Look alive, would you?”

I tuck my phone back into my pocket and jog down to meet them, and Blake holds open the door while we hustle inside. We take a place at the back of the crowd as Lexi gets everyone up to speed on tonight’s event. I don’t see Julia or Scottie anywhere, and I’m a fucking idiot for looking in the first place.

How long is it going to take me to get over her?

“Texas Hold’em,” she says matter-of-factly, lifting a hand to gesture at the green-felt-covered tables behind her. The décor is elaborate, as always, and I’m starting to wonder how they get these things set up without campus security noticing. They put a fucking fight ring in Nash, for shit’s sake. How?

“Fifty bucks gets you in the game. Every table starts with five players, and you play until you’re out.”

Blake raises his hand, and I have to cover my mouth to smother a smile as an annoyed Lexi calls on him. “Yes?”

“What do we do when we’re out?”

“Go home,” she suggests. He smiles, the masochist. I swear, he loves getting owned by her.

Ace clears his throat at the two of us, whispering to Blake as Lexi shakes her head and looks back at her notes. “You have some kind of loser fetish or something? Like, is that what happens when you’re as successful at something as you are?”

Blake waves him off, shushing him and pointing up at Lexi. His instructions are clear: Listen to the love of my life.

Ace and I share a bemused shake of our heads.

“We’ll combine tables as people lose their asses. Only six people will make it to the final table,” Lexi continues, oblivious to Blake all over again, even though he’s staring at her like a serial killer. If the bastard trades in his souped-up Dodge Charger for a white economy van, we should all be concerned.

“How many people win the pot?” a guy from the back yells out.

“Only one,” Lexi answers. “Winner takes all.”

“Hell yeah,” Ace comments and claps a hand on my shoulder, cocky. “They don’t call me Ace for nothing.”

I glance over at him. “Let me guess…you were playing Hold’em in the womb?”

“Pretty much. When my mom was pregnant with me, she loved crashing my dad’s poker nights. She beat him and his friends so many times, they blackballed her.”

“Give your money to Connor, and he’ll tell you which table to sit at!” Lexi shouts over the crowd that’s started chatting among themselves again. “Good luck!”

“What’d we miss?”

Ace, Blake, and I turn around to find Julia and Scottie standing behind us.

Fresh-faced and in a pair of tight jeans and a cream sweater, she looks fucking beautiful. Her dark locks hang down her back in a way that reminds me of Halloween, when she came on my mouth. My fingers itch to run through her hair, and my mind tries to fill my head with memories of what Scottie Bardeaux sounds like, tastes like, feels like when she’s naked and chasing her pleasure.

And when our eyes lock unexpectedly, the contact shoves a dagger through my chest.

My realization is immediate.

She’s not the kind of girl you get over—ever.