Paige looked nervous. Leah looked excited. The second I told my daughter that Paige would be babysitting her tonight, she proceeded to pull out every single game in her closet—digging into the depths to find the ones she hasn’t played with in months. She’s showing off. That’s part of showing off when you’re a kid—you don’t have much of your own, but you’ve got toys. And Leah pulled them all out and put them on display.
I could sense the nerves in Paige’s voice when I told her I wouldn’t be late. And I saw the relief when I held up my phone and told her to call if she needed anything. But she hasn’t called. Not once.
We’ve gone through two hours of Texas Hold ‘em, and I’ve lost forty bucks to Nate, the king of poker faces. I’m down to my final chips, and as much fun as I’ve had being a regular guy for once, I’m sort of itching to get home.
“One more hand, and I think I’m out, guys. Sorry, this is late for me,” I say, realizing mid-sentence how strange that probably sounds. They don’t know about Leah, and I feel like maybe I should talk to Paige before I let them in on it. Ty met her, but as far as he knows, she’s my baby sister.
“Dude, it’s like, what…nine? Nine-thirty?” Ty says, shuffling, then dealing out another round of cards. There are five of us here; Nate brought two of the guys from his team.
“Yeah, but I work crazy hours, so my clock’s sort of messed up,” I say, glancing at my hand and trying to hide two poker faces now. I have a pair of jacks. I also have more than just a messed-up work schedule. This table doesn’t need to know either.
“I feel ya. I guess that’s why you can live with Paige. I bet you hardly see her,” Ty says, looking up at me as he takes a long sip from his beer. He’s studying me, waiting for my tell.
“I guess so,” I say, moving my attention back to my cards. They’re still two jacks, just like they were when I first got them dealt to me. I’m staring at the heart and the club, pretending to be thinking about odds and possibilities, but I’m really wondering if Ty’s still watching me, waiting for me to break about Paige. I risk it and look back up, and his eyes are waiting for me. Everyone else is into their own hands, but Ty’s got me figured out. He smiles, then slowly chuckles to himself. This has nothing to do with poker, and everything to do with what he’s just figured out—Paige is mine. More accurately, I’m hers.
“All right, Texas,” Ty says to me. “Bet’s to you.”
I glance at my cards again, a move that’s only for show, then lay them face down and sit back with my hands behind my neck, chewing at the inside of my cheek, looking at the cards on the table.
“I’m all in,” I say, pushing my stack, which isn’t much, to the center of the table.
Ty’s eyes are waiting for me when I look up, and he raises a brow, glances at his own cards, and tosses them on the table.
“I’m out,” he says, sitting back and folding his arms.
“I don’t know, I think dude’s bluffin’. I call,” Nate says.
“Get ready to lose your shirt, bro. This dude’s the real deal,” Ty says, laughing to himself as he moves away from the table and pushes into a small kitchen area. I think the apartment belongs to one of the other guys—who follows Ty’s lead and folds. The other one has most of the chips on the table, so he tosses in the few it takes to see my bet through.
With every flip of the cards, nothing comes up, and even though I can’t bet, the others raise their own. I’m probably screwed; when I make eye contact with Ty, I realize I’m probably screwed in more ways than one. I’m ruined because I’m falling for a girl who’s a tremendous pain in the ass. That’s where Ty thinks the line is—little does he know that the baggage I drag over that line makes things a whole hell of a lot more complicated.
But I’m all in, falling for her anyway. There’s no taking that bet back now.
With the last cards tipped on the table, I flip mine over first, expecting to watch my final chips get swept away.
“You’re kidding me—a pair of jacks? You went all in with a pair of jacks?” Nate says, rubbing his face and leaning back in his chair, tipping it so the front legs lift from the floor.
“Go big or go home,” I say.
“Hell yeah, bro,” Ty says, reaching his beer over the table to tap it into mine. I drank two beers tonight, slowly, over two hours. I wanted to be able to drive if I had to, but I also didn’t want to seem like a pansy-ass in front of Ty. I’m pretty sure he’s the kind of guy who can really give someone shit when he feels like it. “Take your chips.”