21 January 2020

Score: The Winner Takes It All - ABBA

Mark

"Whoa!" Nate exclaims from behind my back. Seriously, he was a lot nicer last night. Oh, wait, he wasn't around last night.

Patrick flinches, clearly taken aback.

"What?"

"I see the way you look at her, man," I lean back again. "Pining after her like a little bitch. It's useless to try and deny it. We're all men in here, right, bro?" I turn around, acknowledging Nate. He nods quickly.

"See? Now, Lydia is my best friend and I want what's best for her, and, somehow, I don't think that's you, so, walk away, and we forget about this stupid game, alright?"

"Best friend? Best friend? Is that what you call her, after what happened tonight?" He's fuming, and I am loving it.

"That was a stupid dare, man, get over it," I say flatly.

"I see the way you are looking at her, mate," Patrick leans forward. "You've been staring at her all night. And there's been nothing platonic in those looks."

He's got nerves, I give him that.

"You're getting way ahead of yourself, Baby Lord," I wag a finger at him again, not caring if he gets offended by the little nickname I've made up for him. "Lydia and I have known each other all our lives, and you just got here, so, enough with the analysis, OK?"

"You and Lydia might have known each other all your lives, but you feel threatened by me, mate."

My eyes go wide at his audacity. This man doesn't know anything about Lydia and me, or our relationship.

"You are intimidated because she's showing some interest in me. And you feel like she's slipping away. But, guess what, Mark, I'm not stepping down, because you've just realized that your friend is a beautiful girl and you might be losing her. I like her, and I'm not giving up on her."

I stare at him, with my mouth wide open. Nobody's ever spoken to me like that before. Ever.

Patrick swallows audibly, then glances at Nate, as if waiting for his approval. What are they now, besties?

"OK," Patrick looks at me. "I agree with your bet. But I have another condition."

Jesus, I can't wait...

"If you win, I walk away." At least, he's learning quickly. "But, if I win, you walk away."

Anger bubbles inside my veins. The fucking Baby Lord's got teeth!

"And how do you suggest this happens?" I utter, trying to stay as calm as possible. "Gloria, Lydia, and I are practically inseparable. Our families are close. We go to the same school."

He shrugs his shoulders.

"Weren't you, like, really sure that you're going to win?"

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth and bite onto it, hard, as a distraction, because, otherwise, I would be on top of him, pinning him to the ground and making him not so pretty.

"You'll figure it out," he continues. "In the odd case you lost, of course. Isn't this your last year in school? You must be very busy with your A-levels and university applications. I don't think you have the time to be hanging around annoying sixteen-year-olds, right?"

My lips pull back, baring my teeth on instinct. I take my words back. He's not a nice guy, and I have all the right in the world to hate him.

"Fine," I say through gritted teeth. I am way too deep into this. There's no going back now.

"But we still keep the 50k as insurance," Patrick says, not fucking knowing when to stop.

"How does that work?" I growl.

"If whoever loses doesn't keep the pact, he owes the other party fifty thousand pounds." Patrick lifts a brow.

"I, for one, would gladly just give you the money and stick around," I say, leaning forward toward him. I hope he's intimidated by me.

But you don't have fifty thousand pounds, you idiot! A voice yells at me from inside my brain. I shake my head, silencing it.

Then, it's a good thing that I'm going to win and I won't have to give him a fucking penny, in order not to stay away from Lydia.

"Whoa, boys, aren't you taking this a bit too far?"

Nate steps in between us.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well, for starters, you just bet a fucking person in a game of poker. I'm no expert here, but I'm pretty sure that's illegal," Nate says, waving his hands in front of him.

Good guy Nate.

"Not to mention, you've even put a price tag on her, like she's a fucking car or something."

OK, he's taking this way too far.

"That's a tad dramatic, don't you think, Nate? Besides, what do you care?" I ask him, pulling up to my feet. "Are you gonna tell your daddy about this?"

"No," Nate says, taking a step back. "But that's just wrong! And that's Lydia we're talking about. My girlfriend's best friend. Alex would kill me if she ever found out what you two are up to, if I don't try to stop you."

"Well then, it's a good thing that Alex would never find out, right?" I say, sinking back to the floor. "And, even if she does, I'll personally tell her about your act of chivalry tonight, don't worry."

I know I'm being an unnecessary asshole to Nate, but, seriously, the sooner this ends, the better. I am tired, I haven't slept in thirty-six hours, and I am emotionally drained from the events of the last two nights, not to mention, confused as hell about my own feelings.

I just want to get it over with and go to bed.

"I don't know, mate, Nate has a point," Patrick starts to back off.

Pussy.

"Of course, you're gonna say that. You're in the losing position," I say.

"You don't know that," he teases.

The room goes quiet for a bit. I can feel my frustration growing stronger. Not only did the Baby Lord embarrass me by making an unnecessarily large bet for a fucking bluff, one that he must know there's no way I could match, but he also had the audacity to tell me to stay away from Lydia. And now, he's backing down from the whole thing, acting all concerned and showcasing morality.

"Fine," he finally says.

I let out a relieved breath. We're staring into each other's eyes like boxers before a match. Fire's burning in his eyes. His features are twisted with tension, and I'm sure mine are, too.

This can be easily classified as the most nerve-wracking game of poker I have ever played in my life, and I've played a lot of poker. It's a part of who I am, and I take great pride in the fact that I have only ever lost two hands.

"I want to make it very clear that I'm not OK with this," Nate says, shaking his head and raising his hands in front of his chest.

Patrick and I stare at each other for a beat longer, and then, not wanting to drag this even a minute longer, I turn my cards over and toss them between us, squinting my eyes.

"Full House!" Nate exclaims.

"Have fun, playing with yourself, Pretty Boy," I say through a victorious smirk.

But then, Patrick does something completely insane.

He laughs.

He's clearly lost his mind. He just saw my Full House and he's laughing?

He tosses his cards between us, as well, but I don't tear my eyes off his. Not yet. I want to see the defeat in his eyes, his remorse for being so cocky and arrogant.

But everything I see in them is mockery. Victory.

Just then, I look down at his cards.

My brain doesn't register it first.

No. It can't be.

How in the bloody hell did I not see this coming? When it was blatantly obvious the whole time? Such a stupid mistake, one worthy of a beginner, and not Mark Carter, who plays the sharks on weekends.

"I knew you had a Full House, mate," Patrick teases. "Anyone, who claims they can play poker and have half a working brain, no offense, Nate," Patrick nods in the direction of Saint Nate, "could see it." He's enjoying this immensely. And I'm fucking not.

"The legendary Mark Carter," Patrick continues. "Impeccable technique. Only two lost hands. Played some of the most difficult tables in underground tournaments."

Wait, where does he know all of this?

"I guess you aren't that invincible, after all. You, like all humans, have your weaknesses. But, still, I didn't expect you to make such a rookie mistake." He shakes his head. "Losing your cool because of a girl."He shoots me a glance, full of mock pity. "Maybe you should master your game before you think you can play it better than the rest of us."

I clench my fists at my sides and bare my teeth. I feel anger, no, pure rage rising to the surface of my brain.

Because he's fucking right.

"I was bluffing, initially. But I was patiently waiting. Pushing you. And, what do you know?" He waves his hand at his perfectly aligned straight flush. "It was worth it."