Page 48 of Gambler's Fallacy

I text Caleb and tell him Seven needs two tickets to the fight. “It’s a weeknight and the fighters aren’t big names. There’s bound to be open seats.” My phone buzzes again, this time with two tickets sent to my email. I hold it up for Seven to see. “Courtesy of Caleb.”

He cracks a smile. “Nice having connections, huh?” he says, but he nods. “Okay. I think it’ll be fun. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

I put a few bills on the bar counter for the bartender, then put my arm around Seven. “Yeah. I’ve only seen a few fights live. I usually couldn’t justify the cost of the ticket.”

“Good thing we don’t have to worry about that,” he says with a grin, though it falters. “I hope it’s not coming out of my allowance, though.” He sighs. “It probably will. Caleb’s looking for any excuse to get me to stop playing, and I don’t…” He makes another frustrated sound.

I squeeze his shoulders as I lead him away from the bar. “Gotta learn moderation, Seven. Quit while you’re ahead and all that.”

“But I’m never going to get ahead if I have to quit when I’m almost there,” he complains, but he shakes his head. “Never mind. You don’t understand.”

I know more about gambling than Seven does, but I don’t want to spoil the night by arguing with him. I’ve had enough arguing for theday, and if I start now, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop short of punching another wall.

I wince, remembering that night. “Hey, Seven…” I say, faltering. “About that time—at my place, I mean. I wanted to say?—”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Seven interrupts, sounding impatient. “I keep telling you, I like it rough.”

Would he have told me if he didn’t actually want it, though? I’m not sure.

“It was good,” he goes on, flashing me a smile. “I like it when you leave bruises and make it so I think of you every time I sit down.”

My face heats up, and yeah, I like that too. “I don’t want to be the kind of guy who forces people,” I answer quietly.

Seven scowls at me. “You didn’t force me. You’d never force anyone. Maybe you get a little rougher than some people like, but you’renotthe kind of guy who’d do that. And I like it, so stop beating yourself up.”

We reach the fighting ring, and I direct Seven to our seats.

“Yeah, okay,” I answer quietly. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. My mom…” I trail off, though, because I don’t actually want to talk about her. “Never mind. You want a snack or something?”

He shakes his head. “No, I ate a little while ago. I wouldn’t mind something real to drink…” he wheedles, flashing me an innocent smile.

“Yeah, no way.” I smile at him and press a kiss to his temple. “You know the rules.”

He grumbles. “It’s a stupid rule.” He starts to say something else, but activity in the octagon catches his attention. We’d gotten here at the last minute, and we don’t have to wait long for the announcer to begin.

Seven is engrossed in the introductions, leaning forward in his seat, and instead of watching the fight, I find myself watching him instead.

It’s nice to see him engaging in something, even if it’s as meaninglessas a match. He gasps loudly when one of the fighters goes down, and quietly cheers from his seat when the guy gets up again.

“Did you see that?” Seven asks, exhilarated.

I smile at him. “Yeah. I bet I could take both of them, though.”

He laughs. “Maybe you should try. I could see you in the cage, roughing someone up like that. It would be hot. And I’d take care of you after…” He bats his eyelashes at me.

I poke his stomach, grinning. “No way. I don’t like how orderly these fights are. If I’m kicking ass, there will be no rules.”

Seven hums, and he starts to speak, but then his eyes focus on something and his cheeks go pale. He inches closer to me, and I frown, trying to find what he’s looking at.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, and if it wasn’t for the paleness of his cheeks, I might’ve believed him.

The fact that he lies so convincingly bothers me, and I can’t help but wonder if he was lying earlier about wanting the rough sex.

But his body had reacted, and I have to think he wouldn’t lie about that.

I pull him closer to myself and lean in. “Tell me,” I whisper. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s up.”

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