Just What I Needed

Just What I Needed (45)

Montreal, Quebec.

“Do you even know how to play?”

“Hm?” Keely asked, chewing on her fingernail as she looked up from the cards in her hand. “Oh, what?”

Colton rolled his eyes, tapping his hand on the table rhythmically and repeated, “Do you even know how to play?”

Letting out a loud snort she leaned back, resting her head against the chilly window behind her, the chilly winter wind whipping past on the outside of the moving bus. “Does it matter if I know how to play or not?”

“Yes, yes, it does!” piped up Marco indignantly.

Chuckling quietly to herself, she shoved the boy lightly with her foot from her position with her back against the wall and Marco sitting on the same side of the booth as she. Holding her feet up on the bench beside him, she replied, “We're playing poker for candy, boys, I think I can handle losing my share of the twizzlers until we get to Montreal.”

“Twizzlers are a precious commodity on this bus,” interjected Colton, infusing his voice with enough sincerity that she burst out laughing. But when she glanced back to him, he kept staring at her with that serious look, telling her clearly that he wasn't joking.

Hastily Keely looked back down at the hand of cards spaced evenly between her fingers, beginning to chew on her nail again. She'd never played Texas hold 'em in her life, and the boys really weren't the best teachers she'd ever met. How was she supposed to know what the three kings and two fours meant? The closest she'd ever come to cards like this was when she'd been in math class and doing probability, that's where her knowledge ended.

“Are you in or are you out?” burst out the boy beside her.

Jolting slightly, Keely hastily put her hand face down on the table, she couldn't bluff her way through the whole game. “I'm out,” she declared, leaning back more comfortably against the wall, her feet staying on the bench.

Marco said some words that might as well have been Russian for her before throwing three of his twizzlers into the pile that was continuously growing in the middle of the table.

“I'm out,” added Seth.

Instantly her eyes flickered towards him from where he sat on the opposite side beside Colton, and she could feel that familiar tensing in her stomach that she had always associated with puking, guilt or tears. But she wasn't sure which one she was feeling. He shoved up from the seat, his eyes meeting hers and Keely just hastily looked to Colton, brushing hair from her eyes.

Why should she care that his eyes had deepened shadows beneath them like she hadn't seen since she'd first met the boys? She really didn't.

Focusing back on Colton who was now tossing five twizzlers into the pile, she tapped her fingers restlessly on her knee clad in black yoga pants. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw Seth move to the black and white Stratocaster that he'd abandoned on the couch when it was announced that they were playing a game of poker.

It was hard, but Keely hastily looked back to the game. Still a stupid macho match of glaring at each other over the tops of their cards couldn't hold her interest, and she found herself looking back to Seth where he was slipping the strap of the guitar over his shoulder.

Ignoring the deepening feeling in her stomach, she fixed her shoulders so she could have a better view around Marco who was leaning forward glaring at Colton. Seth's dark hair was mussed and messy, but it was his eyes that caught her attention again, they were much more shadowed and bruised than should be allowed.