The Destiny of Violet and Luke(68)

He seeks the bottle again and tips his head back, pouring the last few drops down his throat. He gets up and tosses the bottle into the trash by the foot of the bed. I bite my lip watching his muscles ripple like they did when he was fighting with Preston.

“We could play cards,” he suggests, opening the closet door. He bends down to pick a shirt up from off the floor and the towel slides lower and lower on his hips. I’m not sure if I’m so much as fascinated with his body as how my body is reacting to the sight of him. Invigorated. Excited. I’ve never been excited over a guy before. I’ve either been disinterested or afraid. With people in general.

Regardless, I want to feel it more, let it shower over me. “Cards?”

He has a tattoo on his shoulder blade, a dragon. I touch the back of my neck where my own dragon tattoo is as he stands back up and turns around with a deck of cards in his hand. “But the deal is that we can’t play for money.”

“Good, because I don’t have enough to play with,” I say, still assessing his body, but more discreetly.

“Neither do I.” He sits down on the bed with his legs over the edge, so he’s not flashing me, and puts the cards on his lap. “However, I never just play Texas Hold ’Em for nothing.”

“Why not?”

He clears his throat. “Because it was how I was taught to play.”

“By who?” I was taught to play by someone, too, and for money. A couple I lived with for about six months used to throw these Texas Hold ’Em parties and I would sit beside the table while Mr. Stronton explained the rules to me. I got pretty good at it too, but it’s been a while since I played.

He cuts the deck in half and shuffles them. “By my dad.” The way he says it, his voice stressed, makes me speculate if something happened to his dad.

“Where’s your dad now?” I rise to my feet, adjusting my skirt.

He aligns the cards on the bed, looking up at me. “He lives in California.”

I cross the room to the bed he’s sitting on, the navy blue sheet balling up beneath me as I sit down and get comfortable. “Then why don’t you just go live with him?”

He grips the shuffled deck of cards in his hand. “It’s complicated.”

“What about your mom?” I ask.

“Even more complicated.” His knuckles whiten as he tightens his hold on the cards. “What about your parents? What happened to them?”

“They left me on the doorstep of the neighbors when I was six months old,” I lie breezily. I’ve been doing it for years, making up elaborate stories to avoid the painful truth of what happened when strangers ask me. “I guess they didn’t want me or something.”

He cuts the deck evenly in half. “Is that the truth? Or are you making up a story?”

“Why would I make up a story about that?” I ask innocently, tucking my leg underneath me. Again his eyes go to my legs, gradually drifting up to my thighs.

He studies me unnervingly as heat caresses my skin and coils in my stomach. “To avoid the real truth.”

“So are we going to play Texas Hold ’Em or what?” I aim to change the subject.

“Yeah… but there’s a stipulation,” he says. “For every hand you lose you have to tell me one thing that’s true about you.”

“I don’t like that rule,” I tell him. “And I don’t like telling the truth.”

“Why? Are you afraid you’ll lose?” he challenges me with haughtiness.

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

“That can’t be true. Everyone’s afraid of something.”

“Fine,” I give in. “But if you lose, then you have to tell me something true about you—and something good.”

He fans the edge of the cards with his finger, like he’s counting the cards. “What if I don’t have anything good to share?”

“I’ll be the judge.” I stick out my hand toward him. “Now give me the cards so I can deal. I’m dealer.”

He turns his hand over with the deck in them. “I usually like to deal.” He puts the cards in my hand, sighing, like he’s surrendering something very valuable.

I wrap my fingers around the deck. “Do you play a lot?”

“Occasionally when I need money.”

I shuffle the deck, even though he already has. I was taught never to trust anyone else when it comes to playing cards. I toss the top one to the side and deal.