Page 42 of Our Darkest Summer

The two boys had collected half of the deck to themselves already. Kevin had around fifteen cards in his hands and Braxton wasn’t far behind. On the other hand, Aaliyah had only three cards left.

I looked at the back of Thomas’ cards. He only had three as well, but we hadn’t even had our turns yet in this round.

I watched Cora’s face as she stared at her cards, but as the earlier rounds proved it, she had a very good poker face. I didn’t see any of the common signs on her expression whenever it was her turn. No eyebrow twitching, lips biting or playing with her hair. She placed one card down on the table.

“A six,” she said smoothly, and we all held our breath, waiting for someone to call her out.

Nobody did.

After Braxton’s humiliating burn earlier in the game, everyone was playing more cautiously. No one wanted to take the fall this time.

Connor, who took the role of the referee, nudged me with his elbow. “Your turn.”

Without glancing at the four cards in my hand, I set down two. A queen and an eight.

“Two sevens,” I said, keeping my expression completely neutral.

Thomas’ gaze burned into the side of my face, sharp and analyzing. I kept my breathing steady, refusing to react.

No one called me out either.

Connor let the silence stretch before finally announcing Thomas’ turn. I allowed myself the smallest exhale.

Thomas placed down a single card. “An eight,” he said, his voice cool, smooth. Then, he turned to me, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a challenge.

I scowled.

I wanted to call him out so badly, but I didn’t dare. We both had two cards left. If he was telling the truth—I glanced at the four cards in the middle of the table—then I’d be forced to pick them up, destroying any chance I had of winning.

The game sped up from there. Kevin was the next to grab the pile from the middle after Samantha caught him in a lie. Before I knew it, it was my turn again. Two cards left. A four and a five. Neither of them was an Ace. But if I didn’t put both cards down now, Thomas would win. And ifhedidn’t, then Aaliyah or Cora would.

I glanced at the table, at the way everyone was watching each other, eyes flicking between the pile and the players.

I swallowed. “Two Aces,” I said, pushing my cards forward, my voice steady.

The silence was immediate. My heart pounded. They weren’t going to let me win. I could feel it in the air, they just needed oneperson to call me out.

Connor inhaled, about to announce the end of the game, when?—

“Bullshit.”

Thomas leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his dark eyes locked onto mine. The air between us shifted, heavywith something unspoken. I pressed my lips into a thin line, flipping my cards over for everyone to see.

The table erupted.

“Ah, Converse Girl,” Braxton groaned, flopping dramatically against his chair, and we all looked at him. “What? I’m sympathizing.”

I reached for the pile of six cards, my irritation growing as I gathered them into my hand. When I lifted my gaze, Thomas was still looking at me. Smirking.

Mischief gleamed in his eyes, and I scowled at him, which only made his smirk deepen. Then, just to be an asshole, he let out a low chuckle, the kind that vibrated through my bones, making my stomach tighten.

God, I hated him.

He won, of course. Even after multiple people called him out on his bullshit, when he turned over his last two cards, they were exactly what he had claimed.

Two twos.

Connor let out a suffering sigh beside me. “See? This is why I didn’t want to play.” He tilted his head toward me. “Somehow, he always wins.”