Morose ✔️

19

"You got something good?" he asked, lifting his scarred brow towards me.

"No," I lied, biting my tongue.

He chuckled. "We gotta work on that poker face, Olivia."

His smirk was pretty smug where he sat, and I wondered if he did that on purpose so I'd think his cards were good too— but were they, or did he want me to think they were? The mind games and bluffing around the game had my logic all over the place, I had no idea what was smart to do, and his long legs that took up another seat as he sprawled out around the table distracted me a lot more than they should.

"Maybe we should turn this into strip-poker," I muttered, tilting my head as I looked at my cards again.

"Oh, should we now?" His smirk widened. "I don't know if I like that idea, I might very well start stripping already."

My brow rose up, mirroring his as I looked down to where the table hid his groin. "I wouldn't mind."

"No, I'm gonna teach you the game first," he said, seemingly serious now, "because I want to spend a lot more time with you, and at the clubhouse there's poker nights, and I want you to knock the guys' socks off."

"Why did you suggest stripping earlier, then?" I asked, tilting my head.

"Because I didn't think you'd be so fucking good at it."

He flipped over a card from the deck, revealing a ten. I grimaced, trying to hide whatever emotion I was feeling. He stared at me, analyzing my face as he threw away the next card on the deck, and put another one down next to the others. My heartbeat quickened when I saw it was a queen, and I had a chance to win. He grinned at me, arching a brow and looking down at my two cards. "Do you want to show me what you've got?"

His voice had darkened, and I wasn't sure if it was because he saw on my face that I thought I had a good hand or not, but I carefully brought my hand down and flipped them over. His eyes went over them, then the table, and I could swear I saw him grit his teeth, before smashing his hand in the table. "Fuck," he growled, "seriously? How the hell do you have such luck?"

I looked at the cards he flipped over and saw he had a pair in sixes, and a pair in nines, and I furrowed my brows. "Just barely, though, you had good cards," I said, analyzing them further.

"Not against yours, you had a fucking full house." His voice was strained, as if he was trying not to show his emotions, but he sounded like he was both annoyed and impressed.

My nose scrunched. "I had three of a kind?" I looked at him as I asked the question, biting my lip.

He chuckled, and shook his head, letting his legs drop to the floor as he picked up my two queens, the third one, and the two tens. "Two tens, three queens," he began, holding them up to me, "two plus three of a kind means a full house, it's one of the top five hands you can get."

"Oh." I'd already forgotten most of the combinations he told me about earlier, but couldn't help my smile as I realized I could've won that round no matter what he had— almost. He brought the deck of cards together and rolled his eyes, grinning at me at the same time to let me know he wasn't really angry.

He dealt us another round, which he won, and he was so proud of himself I left the table and went over to the couch instead, to get away from his unbearable teasing. He followed, though, and planted kisses on my cheek while tickling my sides and telling me over and over that he beat me. If it were anyone else, I'd be so annoyed with them I'd just leave the whole trip— walk home—, but his joy was so infectious I couldn't not be happy with him.

When he settled down and sat down with me, he looked at me, his eyes searching through my soul, and he said, "I'm really sorry I just left you that night." I couldn't look away, even thought I wanted to, so I kept staring into his beautiful eyes. "Daisy always gets me in a weird mood, and she always uses me as a punching bag when she sees me, which is fair— I did somehow cause her brother's death—, but it just... makes me shut down."

I leaned my head on my arm, still looking at him as I said, "It's okay, I understand." And I did understand, at least a little, because I felt guilt as well because of something I did or didn't do. "The rose was really pretty."

"It reminded me of you," he said, "a little broken, but still really, really pretty."

My heart skipped a beat. "I thought it reminded me of you, for that reason, of us, and what we've both been through."

He leaned closer, his hand reaching up to stroke my cheek. "I don't think I'll ever find anyone who looks at me the way you do," he said, his voice low and gentle, "even that first night you looked at me like you saw me, not whatever rumors you'd heard. I think I knew right then and there that I wanted to know you." He moved closer, lifting my head up as he looked into my eyes still, and smiled. "When I saw you a few days later, going into the grocery store, I had to go in and see you— talk to you. You were so broken and unsure that when I left I convinced myself I needed to stay away, for your sake.

"Well, honestly I thought Stevens had gone into some weird relationship with you, since I hadn't seen you around before and you were literally tied together, but when you said you two were just friends, I..." He trailed off, huffing at himself as he looked down. I took his hand in mine, stroking my thumb over his knuckles as he looked at me again and continued, "I don't know what I thought, but I'm so crazy attracted to you, even though I know should've probably stayed away considering what you're going through, but... I can't, Olivia, I really fucking can't."

My mouth went dry. The sound of his dark voice slightly breaking as he opened up his chest, handing me his heart on a silver platter. I leaned forward, gripping his hand tighter, and whispered, "Then don't." His eyes widened as he kept staring at me, and I bit my lip a few seconds before blurting out, "I'm really, really attracted to you too, to a point where I think it's kind of ridiculous, but beyond that you're this man with a capital M on the outside, big and strong, a little rough looking, and when we're alone you're this... gentle, romantic guy whose eyes stare right into my soul." I sucked in a breath, nervousness gathering inside my bones as I realized what was happening. My eyes flickered between his, and as if he realized it too, he swallowed.

He leaned in closer, capturing my lips with his with the same gentle and romantic manner I'd just told him about, and I moved to straddle him, never letting our lips part. He groaned into my mouth, his hands roaming my back, holding me close, as we sealed our agreement.

"My girl," he breathed when I pulled away for air, looking into my eyes. "My little rose." He grinned and pulled some of my hair back behind my ear.

"Am I?" I asked, biting my lip a little as my hands rested on his pecks.

"Mhm," he confirmed, "you stared at the roses on our first date, our second I gave you some that you couldn't take your eyes off, but the one I left outside your door... It was just the one because it was just like you, and that's more than enough for me."