“Last hand of the night,” Nix calls and deals the cards.
Nix makes his way around the table, but Leif tosses his hand down. “I fold.”
Garrett lights the tip of his cigar again and inhales before showing us his cards. “Call it a straight, baby, all the way,” he boasts.
Ivy smiles and lays her cards flat but upside down. “I fold too.”
“I’m out of this fucking game,” Nix calls out, running his fingers down Phoebe’s bare arms.
I look at the cards in my hand. Rubbing my nails on my chest, then blowing on my cards, I grin. “Four of a kind. Pay up, buddy.” I slowly fan my cards out. Garrett’s face falls like the cigar he’s stubbing out.
“What the fuck, Ivy?” he blurts out.
Everyone looks her way and back at Garrett, who has his hands up in surrender, grinning ear to ear. Nix gestures Phoebe off his lap and Garrett’s up and running. Leif and Nix fly after him.
Ivy quickly pushes the scattered cards on the table into a pile. Her cheeks are bright red. She’s so busted. Here I’m thinking she wants to be close to me. That she doesn’t even know she’s driving me nuts when in actuality she’s signaling my cards to Garrett. I glare down toward the floor and spot a number of cards under the table. Looking back up at her, I say, “Ivy?”
She glances up at the sound of her name but quickly averts her gaze. Bending under the table, I pick up the cards and slide them to her with a smirk on my face. Her fierce eyes catch mine and they are cautious, focused, nervous even, as her stare tries to break mine. I notice that the color in her eyes is more liquid blue than gray today. Beautiful. It’s inviting me, calling my name, so I don’t look away. Instead I keep her pegged and stand up to hover over her. Her breathing picks up speed the closer I lean in, and I’m well aware of the attraction between us.
With no one around to pay any attention to us, I corner her and cage her with my arms. She’s waiting for me to look into her face, but I cut my eyes away. Our faces are close and our bodies are like magnets, drawn to each other. I finally fix my attention on her. A piece of hair has fallen in her eyes and I push it aside. Tucking it behind her ear, I whisper, “Ivy.”
She murmurs something I can’t understand, then closes her eyes. I swallow, my mouth dry. I want to ask her what she said. I want to tell her to open her eyes and look at me. I consider kissing her—I’m pretty sure she’d let me, but I don’t. Instead I get close enough that her breath passes over my skin like a caress. I let my pants rub against her stomach and a small sigh escapes her throat. When I’m as close as I can be without actually lying on top of her, I whisper in her ear, “Who would have thought?”
I’m not sure why I chose to call her out, but when she pushes me away and runs out of the room, I really wished I had kissed her.
? ? ?
The next afternoon, the bus is hauling ass to Jersey and I’m spending a rare moment alone in the galley. I’m in my cubby playing around with a song on my guitar when I feel her stare on me. When I glance up, she looks younger again. She has no makeup on, she’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, and her hair is pulled back. She’s gorgeous.
“I thought I heard you. What are you playing?” she asks.
“Actually I’m working on something for you.”
She laughs. “Oh yeah. Since when do you write songs?”
I chuckle. “I don’t, but I have this idea that I’ve been wanting to run by you.”
“Okay, I’m intrigued. What is it?”
I pat the spot next to me on my bed, and her eyes grow cautious. “I’m not going to attack you, Ivy. I just want to show you something.”
She crosses the space and sits next to me, then looks around. “I’ve never seen where you live,” she jokes.
Grinning at her, I say, “Well, it’s not home. That’s for sure.”
“Movies, music videos, a picture of your family—it’s enough to see you’re still the same guy.”
“Same guy I was in high school? I think I’d have to disagree with that.”
“Well, I think you are.”
I bow my head and look at the strings on the guitar. One thing I know for certain is that I’m not, but it’s nice that she thinks I am.
“Garrett told me you just started playing the guitar again on this tour. Why did you stop? You loved it, and you were so good at it.”
“Ivy, there is so much you don’t know.”
She turns to face me, propping a knee up as she twists sideways. “You mean about your father’s death.”
My throat tightens with emotion. “No, I mean about his suicide.” The words come out harsher than I mean them to.
She nods. “I know, but I wish I did.”
We stare at each other, communicating without talking. We’ve been walking this line between friends and not, between friends and lovers, between I don’t know what since this tour started. She knows she’s digging deep and I’m not sure I’m ready to uncover the things I’ve buried.