The rum went down the wrong pipe, and I choked, my vision blacking out for a second as the sound wrenched a buried memory out of its casket.
The crash of bone hitting china. The screams. The stampede.
My fault.
My fault.
My fault.
My head pounded. The music dulled, and a gallery of images flickered through my mind. Bits and pieces of my life since that night, woven together by a tenuous string of anxiety and persistent, unrelenting doubt.
Then the song changed to some frenetic synth-pop number, and I was flung back into reality.
The Vault. The Five Trials. Maya.
I finished the rest of the rum and knocked back the last shot, my eyes still burning from my earlier choking fit, but it was too late.
Maya slammed her empty glass on the counter mere seconds before me. Xavier grabbed her hand and raised it in the air. “Ding ding ding! We have a winner! Sorry, Laurent.” He patted me with his free hand. “Better luck next time.”
I forced a smile over the continued hammering of my heart. “Can’t win them all. Congrats, Sal.” I inclined my head toward her. “You’ve redeemed yourself after last time.”
Maya snorted. “Last time was almost ten years ago. I don’t think about it anymore.”
“Lying again.” I tsked as Xavier returned to Sloane’s side. She appeared mostly relieved that her shoes had survived the Five Trials intact.
“I know you can hold your alcohol, but add that Trials thing to the list of challenges you should never do,” Ayana told Vuk. “Ialmost threw up watching it.”
He chuckled.
While our friends broke off into their own little worlds, I kept my attention on Maya. “You never forget a loss. I bet the outcome of our last challenge keeps you up at night.”
“If we’re going to go there, I could say the same for you.”
“A drinking contest doesn’t mean much to me.”
“Maybe not, but I know you.” She shrugged. “You lost, and it’s killing you inside.”
Despite our back-and-forth, the interaction lacked our usual edge. Maya was practically glowing after five consecutive shots and a victory, and I was… not happy, exactly, but I was glad to see her return to form. It restored the sense of balance in my world.
My gaze swept over her face, taking in her bright eyes and flushed cheeks. Whatever haunted her earlier had subsided, and that was worth taking the loss this time.
Only once, though.
I didn’t make a habit of coming in second.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” I took out my wallet and slipped the bartender an extra fifty for their help. “I guess I’ll go home now and lick my wounds in private.”
“You’re joking, but just know that mental image brings me great pleasure.” Maya gave the delighted bartender a hundred-dollar bill.
My mouth quirked. She had to one-up me at everything, including tipping.
“Good to know mental images of me give you pleasure.” A laugh climbed up my throat at her horrified expression.
“That’s not—”
“Have a good night, Sal. I’ll see you Monday.” I nodded goodbye to my friends, but Maya’s hand caught my sleeve before I left.
“Seb.”
