“Like … pick up their clothes from the dry cleaner?” I ask, and I’m pretty sure every guy at that table looks at me like I’m stupid.
“Like, tell Creed to fuck all the way off of Harper. The flirting is starting to get annoying.” Tristan looks pointedly at Creed, but he waves him off. This is the second time I’ve heard these guys laying claim to girls, like they actually have a right to do that. It’s disturbing.
“Fine. But if you win and you fuck us with these favors, I’ll destroy you.” Creed glances over at Andrew, and a visible line of tension forms between him and Tristan. “And you?”
“I’ll play for Marnye’s immunity, too,” he says, and I turn to look at him in surprise. He smiles and shrugs his shoulders like it’s no big deal. “It’s doubtful I’ll win, but I’m at least here to support you.”
“What a crock of shit,” Tristan murmurs, shoving raven-dark hair away from his face and running his tongue ever so slowly along his lower lip. His gray eyes find Zack. “How about you? You playing for Marnye, too?”
Zack stares back at him, and then crosses his bulky arms over his chest.
Tristan scowls, and turns to Zayd.
“I want the keys to your dad’s Spider for the rest of the week, no questions asked.” Zayd’s face takes on a suggestive leer. “I have plans.”
“Fine. Creed?” Tristan turns to his friend, and I watch as those blue eyes slide over to me.
“I want to know who my sister’s fucking.”
“What?” I ask, the word just falling out of my mouth unbidden. My cheeks redden because even if I did have that information, I wouldn’t give it to him. “What makes you think she’s sleeping with someone?”
“Well, the naked pictures that Derrick had for starters,” Creed drawls, waving his hand at me. “You’re her only friend. Surely she’s told you something.” He stares me down, like if he looks hard enough, maybe I’ll spill the truth onto the poker table. I just look back at him.
“I won’t make that deal. Miranda trusts me.” Creed clenches his jaw, the hardness in his face such a stark contrast against his usual lackadaisical nature. “I’m not playing if that’s all you want.”
“She cried herself to sleep the other night,” he counters, blue eyes narrowing on me. “And she won’t tell me what’s wrong.” My heart stutters over a beat, and I find myself sucking on my lower lip. I’m aware he’s playing with me, but I’m also pretty damn sure he’s telling the truth, too. The only thing Creed seems to actually care about is his twin. “She doesn’t have to know the information’s coming from you.”
“Fine,” I choke out, but I’ve already decided that as soon as we’re done here, I’m going to text Miranda and tell her about this. Creed asked for information; he never said I couldn’t tell Miranda he was gunning for it. Besides, secrets breed distrust. Without them, there aren’t any skeletons to be pulled out of the proverbial closet. “It’s a deal—if you win.”
“Are we done with the chitchat?” Tristan asks as a small sea of people forms around us, curious to see what the Idols are up to. The girls all left on various family getaways, but I can’t help but wondering if they’re a part of the Infinity Club, too. Maybe all the Bluebloods are? Anyway, I’m still not entirely sure what the club is, but it doesn’t matter. I’m here for one reason, and one reason only: to win that month of freedom. And maybe a little respect, too? “Because if you assholes want to gossip, you can do it somewhere else. I have an appointment with Ebony Peterson tonight.”
“Isn’t she dating Jalen?” Creed asks, an insouciant smirk on his face.
“So?” is Tristan’s reply. My cheeks flush red as he deals out a fresh hand, and gestures for the game to start. We still use chips for betting, but it’s all just a show. There’s no money at stake, just personal gains to be had.
It goes much the same as before, with Zayd folding quickly, Andrew following suit, and Zack, Tristan, and Creed watching my every move. Eventually, they all fold, and I’m the last one left standing.
With a grin, I flip my cards over and drop them on the table.
It’s all bullshit.
“You have quite the poker face,” Andrew says with a smile, putting a hand on my knee. My grin turns into a moue of surprise, and his cheeks flame. He pulls his hand back like he didn’t quite realize what he was doing. Our eyes meet, and he gives me that winning grin I saw on my first day here. Andrew Payson was the first person to be nice to me, and he hasn’t stopped. “Could I give you a ride back to the academy? There’s a twenty-four diner on the way.”
