Page 117 of Splintered Hearts

I hate it.

I wash the cards and deal them out. “Remember that one time with those twins? What were their names? Kaiden and Beck, right?”

“I don’t want to talk about past hookups. That’s disrespectful to Hunter.” Mark looks at his cards. “But yes.”

“It was like buy one get one.”

“I hate you both, I think. No wait. Yeah, I do,” Hunter decides.

“Don’t worry, you’re definitely out of his league. He’s not going anywhere.”

“Why did I ask him to come over?” Mark complains.

“You ask yourself that every time and then remind me not to let you invite him. Yet here we are, back at square one, every single time.” Looking up from his cards, Hunter’s brows pinch. “I’m not one hundred percent sure you’re even real, or I’m slowly losing my mind and you’re a figment of my imagination.”

“I can see him too, babe,” Mark says. “Unfortunately.”

“I’m not even sure you’re real either.” While setting up the rest of the game, my mind keeps going to Jamie. All I want is to tell him. It’s pointless though. All of this and admitting my feelings will only make things weird. Jamie’s been clear. Norelationships. None. That thick feeling comes back, choking me.

Head in the game.

I need a distraction, and this game and hanging out with my friends will do that. “You okay?” Mark asks. I hadn’t even realized I was just sitting here.

“Just a lot on my mind,” I reply. They both give each other a knowing look. “Stop that! I have many problems, okay? They don’t all revolve around him.”

“Funny, you just assume that’s the look we were giving each other,” Mark smirks. “Maybe I was undressing Hunter with my eyes.”

“My look was about Jamie,” Hunter says flatly, ignoring his boyfriend’s glare.

“Just let me play for a bit.”

I look at my hand, then to my friends. There’s something I love about card games in particular. I’m not the best at playing poker, and I kind of made up some rules to fit our strip-poker needs, but it’s fun anyway. I’m not competitive in the sense I have to win, unlike Mark who takes shit way too seriously. Hunter is relaxed as always, making me laugh a bit. His zen is on another level and I guess it has to be to balance Mark’s temper and mood swings.

When they put their cards down I look at their hands, smiling when I see Mark fold his arms over his chest. “Shirt!” Mark rolls his eyes, moving his chip and reaching behind his back to take his shirt off. Unable to stop myself, my eyes drag up his stomach. While I would never admit this out loud, my best friend is indeed fucking gorgeous.

His ice-blond, chin-length hair is currently tied half-up half-down, the set of his blue eyes hard as he studies his cards. Mark is sharp all over. Sharp lines, sharp facial features, sharp spicy attitude. He looks like one of the fairy kings in my smutty books.

Again . . .

Not that I would ever tell him that.

“Ew, stop looking at me, pervert.” He covers his nipples with two fingers each, looking like a fucking chicken.

“Just trying to remember a time when I found you attractive.” That makes him glower. Serves him right.

How dare he assume what I was definitely totally doing.

Setting up another round, we go through the motions of exchanging cards. My hand is nearly unbeatable but I’m taking a risk. “For blue.”

“Blue? I still have socks on.” Mark huffs.

“Now, blue and yellow.” Socks and pants. I want to move this along. “What does it matter, Mark? You scared? Does your hand suck as bad as your rimming skills?”

Hunter sighs.

Deeply.

Getting up, Mark looks him dead in the eye, taking off both his socks and sweats. Thankfully he’s wearing boxers, not briefs, so I’m spared the outline. For now.

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