Page 49 of Dice & Dekes

“It’s not that! I’m not trying to control him. Some communication would be nice, though. I have no idea where he is or who he’s doing.”

“Don’t you meanwhathe’s doing?” Baylor asks.

I shake my head. “He has been gone for three hours.Who. It must be awho.”

“Hmm.” His skepticism is palpable. “That seems like a bit of a leap.”

I flop to my other side. “What else keeps a guy away for five hours?”

“Lots of things. Practice and guy time?”

“Nope. Knight’s been texting me photos of his date day with Sofia.”

Of course, he has. They look stupidly happy. Like they know what they’re doing. Like it’s easy. What the hell are we doing, then? Are we playing house or building something real?

Baylor hums in thought. “Um… secret dance lessons to surprise you?”

I roll my eyes. “Hallmark-worthy, but unlikely.”

“I think there’s a logical explanation. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. That’s not the look of a man who’d cheat.”

“There’s not one type of man who cheats, you know. And maybe he only looked at me like that because he wanted me, and now he’s had me, and I haven’t been with anyone in forever, and even then… just the one. So… yeah. Obviously, he met up with a puck bunny. Viktor has a reputation.”

I mean, what even is “outreach,” anyway? That could mean charity. Or church. Or strippers named Charity working the church girl angle. He gave me nothing. Just that smug little shrug and a vague excuse—like I was supposed to fill in the blanks and be cool about it.

I don’t know how to do casual. I never have. Every time I give my body, I hand over my heart on a silver platter. The other night, I gave him everything. And he gave me a ghost story.

Baylor starts to respond, but the sound of keys in the doorknob makes me sit up.

“I gotta go!” I hiss. “I’ll let you know what happens.” I hang up and rearrange myself so that it looks like I’m not having an existential crisis.

I drop the phone and shove it under a pillow like that can somehow hide what I’ve done—what I’m afraid I’ve ruined. I don’t want Viktor to know how much I was hoping he’d pick me today. I don’t want him to see how easily I unravel.

“I’m back,” Viktor says.

I spare him a glance over the back of the sofa. He looks slightly mussed. Rumpled. A little sweaty. In need of a shower. “Huh. I barely knew you were gone.”

He holds up a bag he’s carrying. “You didn’t answer my texts, so I brought you a Cuban with sweet potato fries.”

He says it like that explains everything. Like a sandwich makes up for everything. Like I’m just supposed to melt because he remembered my favorite sides. I want to. God, I want to. But I’m too busy choking on what it means that he didn’t tell me where he was.

No details. No explanation. Just outreach. A standingthing.

Outreach is what they say when they don’t want you to ask follow-ups. When they don’t want to admit it was another woman, or a strip club, or something that wasn’t you.

He has the whole day off. And he didn’t spend it with me.

Damn him for knowing all my weaknesses. “Not hungry right now.”

He wilts a little. “Okay, I can stick it in the fridge for later.”

“Whatever.” My stomach chooses that moment to growl. It’s so loud that Viktor can hear me from where he’s standing.

He walks over to the sofa and sits on the other arm of the L, placing the bag on the table in front of me. “I feel like you’re upset with me. Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“I guess not, but I thought…” He trails off.

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