That’s the only place I can be, considering the fire of emotions running wild in my body.
I’m ready to fucking snap, tell the guys to get lost, and have a word with Lily.
I’d probably have a lot more to say than a word.
She’s driving me fucking insane.
Turning up looking like a goddess.
Any other girl would probably feel overdressed in an outfit like that.
Lily loves being the centre of attention, and she is getting plenty of it.
The guys are fucking falling all over themselves, and Lily is all for it.
She’s her usual flirty self, but she’s adding a few light touches, making me feel muddled.
Whenever the boys joke, she’ll laugh, sometimes leaning in to touch their shoulder.
The touch is friendly, but all I feel is raging jealousy.
Because of course, the only person she’s not acting that way towards is me.
She’s not even looking at me.
And I only have myself to blame for that.
I knew I was a fucking coward for skipping our breakfast. I don’t know what I’ll do or say to her whenever we’re alone again.
I wanted to jump right back into where we were before Luke interrupted us yesterday, but part of me knew that wasn’t a good idea.
Therefore, I avoided it altogether, saying I couldn’t make it.
Now, Lily is making me pay for my actions.
It’s her turn to deal the cards, and when she handles the deck like it’s made for her, doing tricks no one before her has been able to, I look up at the ceiling.
She’s so fucking sexy, and she knows it.
The guys are practically drooling while looking at her, and I can’t really blame them, considering my own thoughts.
“Should we make this interesting, boys? Play a round of strip-poker?”
As soon as she says it, I speak.
“No.”
But of course, the other fuckers are all for it.
I grumble under my breath, but they all agree that we live in a democracy and four against one win.
Lily deals the cards, wearing a smug expression on her face.
Soon enough, that expression is a full-on grin when she’s kicking all our asses.
No wonder she wanted to play poker; she’s outstanding at it.
We’ve all lost our socks and shirts, and Dean is down to his boxers, which is where I’m going to draw the fucking line.
