Page 78 of Wicked Games

“Hm.” He grunted and pointed toward the cup on the left end; the one I’d sunk my ball in. “This one seems lucky, huh?”

“Maverick…” My voice caught in my throat as I watched him toss back the beer.

Once he’d swallowed the last drop, he wiped his mouth and slowly tilted his head. Then he grinned. “Pretty sure that was just a regular beer.”

“Some poisons can be tasteless,” I said, heart still jackhammering in my chest.

“Carey, I’m fine. Really.” He motioned toward the other tables. “Let’s watch and hope everyone else is just as lucky as me. Okay?”

I nodded and turned to look. Because Maverick and I hadn’t played ‘properly’ like the others, who were taking their time during each round to make the best shots they possibly could, we’d finished very early.

As I watched, Brooke came up to me and squeezed my arm. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she said. “I feel really bad that I didn’t have to play. It’s not fair on the rest of you.”

I shook my head. “It’s not your fault. Everything in this game is down to luck, including the exempt player.”

“Well, I’m not so sure about that. That it’s all luck.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, brows puckering.

Brooke lowered her voice. “I know I could be way off-base, so please don’t get mad at me, but… um… is there something going on with you and Maverick?”

My heart began to pound all over again. “Why would you ask that?”

“I was watching you guys play, and he didn’t seem to be trying. Like,at all.Almost like he wanted to lose. But that would mean he was giving you the victory, and that means…”

She trailed off, letting the implication hang silently in the air.

“He didn’t lose on purpose,” I said. “He’s just really bad at Beer Pong. I’m bad too. I only sank one ball.”

I felt awful for lying to my friend, but I truly believed it was for the best while we were stuck in this godforsaken place. The last thing any of us needed was the added drama of even more wild suspicions and accusations being flung all over the place, and I knew the revelation of my unexpected relationship withMaverick would result in exactly that, even amongst my own friends.

“It’s not just that.” Brooke hesitated for a few seconds, thumb rubbing at her chin. “That text the Game Master sent about you last night. I know you said it was a consequence for being out after the curfew, but…”

I picked up where she trailed off. “The Game Master sent a text about Maverick too. The sociopath one.”

“Yeah. So… were you two breaking the curfew together last night?”

I figured a half-truth was better than an outright lie in this case. “Sort of,” I said, dipping my chin in a brief nod. “It’s like I said at breakfast. I thought the curfew wasn’t in effect because of the late-night game, so I decided to explore. Maverick had the same idea, and I bumped into him out in the hall. We had a quick chat about what we were doing—he was exploring too—but then we got the texts from the Game Master telling us to get back to our rooms. I didn’t mention seeing him when I told you guys about it at breakfast because it was such a quick, non-eventful thing. I was more worried everyone would judge me about that horrible video.”

“Oh, right. So you two aren’t…”

“No.” Guilt churned my stomach as the lie slipped off my tongue. “I’m not hooking up with him, or anything like that.”

Brooke’s face brightened, and her shoulders relaxed. “Oh, thankgod. For a minute I was actually worried you and that asshole were—” She stopped abruptly and shuddered. “Ugh, never mind. We don’t need that mental image. Anyway, it’s lucky for you that he sucks so much at Beer Pong.”

“Yeah.” Guilt was still twisting my stomach into knots. “I’m really lucky.”

We turned our attention to the ongoing games. Zach won against April 5-3 a few minutes later, and April immediatelylooked over at Brooke and me with pure panic flashing in her eyes. “I can’t pick,” she said, voice choked with emotion. “Pick for me. Please.”

“April…” Brooke shook her head. “We can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“If we pick a poisoned cup, it’ll be our fault that you’re gone. We’d never forgive ourselves. It has to be your choice.”

April sighed forlornly and looked down at the table. “You’re right.”

“Maybe go for the very top or bottom-edge ones,” Zach suggested. “The Game Master probably thinks most people will go for the middle ones, so they’re more likely to be poisoned.”

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