IT’S EIGHT O’CLOCK ON FRIDAY MORNING, and I have yet to sleep. The downtown casino has had back to back tournaments, and I’m raking up enough to pay off the rest of spring semester and hopefully to pay my entry fee for a larger tournament this summer. I’m on the leaderboard right now, but an opponent delivered a nice little blow to my mental stability this morning in the form of a printed out blog article.
Skyler Thorne: Poker’s Hottest New Player
At first, it sounded flattering — and, some of it is — but most of it details my physical features, complete with a center photo of me in the small red bikini I was wearing on the beach with Jess and Cassie. Of the entire article, only one tiny paragraph mentions my skills at the table.
Entering the code for the Omega Chi house into the keypad, I let myself through the front door and make my way back to Clinton’s bedroom.
“I brought bagels,” I say, louder than I expected, as I kick his door closed behind me. “Coffee, too.”
Clinton peeks at me through his heavy eyelids before reaching for his phone, noting the time. When he sees the look on my face, I sigh, setting the bag of bagels and coffee on his bedside table and retrieving the article from my pocket. I unfold it and drop it on his chest.
Squinting, he reads the headline, but his eyes widen at the slew of photos. I don’t even think he reads more than the first paragraph. Sighing, he crumples it, tosses it across his room, and scoots over, lifting the covers. “Come here.”
I crawl in, snuggling close to him as he tucks the covers around us. “They’re such assholes.”
“I know,” he says, his voice groggy as he kisses my forehead. “Did you talk to President Whittington about the paparazzi on campus yet?”
“Yeah, but so far everything they’ve taken of me has been off campus, technically. He assured me that if they tried anything on school grounds, he would step in and take legal action against them. But off campus, I need to watch out for myself.”
“I swear, if it ever happens when I’m around I’ll pummel their asses.”
I smile, resting my head on his chest. “Tell me about your life so I can stop thinking about mine for a while.”
Clinton blows out a breath, his fingers lazily tracing circles on my shoulder. “Well, I’ve been steadily banging someone since my birthday.”
“The random-birthday-kiss girl?”
“Indeed.”
I nod. “Huh. That’s kind of a big deal for you.”
“Tell me about it.” He reaches over me for the coffee I brought him. It’s probably a good thing I don’t drink coffee, otherwise I’d be even more wired than I am already. “She’s cool, though. Different.”
“Is she coming to Key West?”
He frowns. “No. I tried to convince her, but she’s not having it.”
I sigh. “Is it awful of me to feel like maybe I made a mistake inviting Adam?”
“Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?”
My stomach aches and I curl my legs into my body. “No, we’re amazing — perfect, even. He’s so sweet, funny, charming. We always have a great time when we’re together.”
“But?”
“But… I just feel like we maybe jumped into the whole boyfriend and girlfriend thing too fast. I never expected it to become as serious as it has. And I feel like Adam is really starting to feel things — real things. But he needs to be focusing on becoming president. Alpha Sigma needs him as president. And me, I feel like I’m on the precipice of something with my poker career — like there’s something big coming. And every time I’m at a tournament, I feel bad for not spending time with him.”
Clinton is quiet for a moment, sipping his coffee, his arm still around me. “I don’t know, Skyler. Maybe the timing just isn’t right for you guys right now. I think Adam is a cool guy, but — if I’m being honest — I’ve always felt like you two were meant to just hook up and hang out. It became more serious than a lot of us expected. And not that that’s a bad thing or means anything, but if you feel it, too… well, maybe there’s some truth to it.”
Sighing, I sit up in the bed, pulling my knees to my chest. “I don’t want to make any decisions right now. I think the reporter stuff is just getting to my head. I need to think for a while.”
“Fair enough.”
“Have you heard from your mom?”
Clinton clears his throat. “No. But I did talk to Clayton. I’m flying him down for family weekend.”
“That’s awesome, Bear! I can’t wait to meet him!”
Clinton rolls his eyes. “Oh God, he’s going to love you. I’m sorry in advance for the inappropriate comments he’s guaranteed to make. Kid just started going through puberty and can’t help himself.”
I laugh. “So, don’t hate me, but I won’t be at the Fratalina Wine Mixer tomorrow.”
“What?!”
I cringe. “I know, I’m sorry. This tournament isn’t over until Sunday.”
“Damnit, Skyler. It’s the fucking Fratalina Wine Mixer!” he screams, exaggerating the words like the guys in Step Brothers where the event idea originated from. It’s one of the best parties during spring semester and I’m more bummed than I admit to miss it.
“I’ll make up for it. Promise. I’m not doing anything poker related at all during Spring Break.”
“Fine. I’m making you do a beer bong as soon as we get there.”
Laughing, I extend my hand and he shakes it firmly. “Deal.”
My smile stays intact as I stare at my best friend who I can always count on — no matter the situation. There aren’t many people in this world I can be completely honest with. Tugging the covers with me, I bury myself in his chest and squeeze him tight. He abandons his coffee on the table and wraps both arms around me, pulling me in as close as he can.
“Bear hugs really are the best,” I say with a sigh.
“Good thing you have them available whenever you need them.”
“Always?”
He smiles, giving me a noogie as I squirm against his firm grip.
“Always.”