Page 43 of The Way We Swing

I still didn’t know what I wanted. I knew I didn’t want to come out. I knew I couldn’t fall for a teammate. But I wanted Easton.

The longer he waited, the longer I could avoid making a decision. It was the best of both worlds, right?

CHAPTER 15

“Who wants to play cards?” Gavin said. He asked this as if the rest of us hadn’t been waiting all day to play. Six years ago, our family had started a Christmas tradition of playing every card game imaginable after the day’s festivities.

This year, there were more people than ever. Gavin had invited his friend Jake, Easton had invited himself, and half of our cousins had brought friends. At least twenty-five people spread across the basement getting ready to play three different games. The sound of shuffling cards and holiday laughter filled the basement.

My parents, plus the aunts and uncles, sat at one table playing two different games of Euchre, and my younger cousins sat against the far wall playing Go Fish.

That left eight of us older kids to surround the pool table buried under mountains of poker chips. Across from me was Zach, who was sitting to Easton’s right. Gavin had instantly taken the open seat on Easton’s other side and was talking about how his favorite hand was the "Doyle Brunson".

Gavin and I had started to watch the World Series of Poker the previous summer, and we had both gotten hooked in the first five minutes. There were weekends when we’d still be awake watchingPoker After Darkreruns when our parents woke up in the morning, which never ended well.

My younger cousin Brandon sat between Gavin and me. He was a month younger than Gavin but looked twoyears older. He grabbed the playing card that explained the Hold’em rules while I separated the chips.

“Does everyone know how to play?”

“I think so,” mumbled Brandon. The rest of the table didn’t even look up.

“Ask if you have questions,” I said under my breath. “You’ll be fine.”

“You should go play Go Fish with the little kids, Brandon,” said Gavin.

“At least my dick doesn’t look like a little kid’s,” Brandon shot back without missing a beat.

Gavin stared at me, astonished and probably hoping I’d defend him.

“You deserved that,” I said, dealing the first hand.

I ran over most of the table for the first hour, knocking out a couple of my cousins. All the hands of play-money poker had honed my skills enough to win this house game.

Eventually, the tournament thinned out, and we were down to four: Gavin, Easton, Brandon, and me.

“You lasted longer than I thought you would, Brandon,” I said, flipping chips between my fingers.

“I know when to fold,” said Brandon, as he wiped his bangs out of his eyes.

“You’ve been folding every hand,” said Gavin.

“Exactly!” Brandon laughed.

“How do you plan on winning if you don’t play any hands?” Gavin asked.

“I’m fine taking second,” Brandon said.

“Grow a sack,” Gavin said, tossing four green chips into the pot.

“At least I have hair on my balls,” Brandon said.

“BRANDON MICHAEL PORTER!” my aunt Cathy screamed from across the room. “We’re going home right now.”

“But I’m still playing,” Brandon pleaded.

“Not happening. Apologize.”

“Sorry, Gavin. You’ll get ball hair soon,” Brandon said. He sprinted out before Aunt Cathy could grab him. She followed her son out the door, not happy in the least.