Page 20 of Gambler's Fallacy

Is this how Caleb feels, watching Seven gamble away his money? Sure, I have it; I’m set for life, if I’m honest. But it feels like I’m doing her a disservice by continuing to give her money almost every month.

“I’m not asking you to pay me back, Connie. I’m asking you to make good decisions,” I tell her even though I know she’s going to ignore that.

She smiles at me. “You’re the best, Sebby! I love you!”

I sigh. “You too.” We go back to eating, and she chatters about how well she’s sure this is going to go. We’re about to wrap up — and I’m about to get my phone out to send the money to Connie — when I see Seven’s familiar form out of the corner of my eye.

What the hell is he doing here?

My eyes narrow as I watch him, but he smiles brightly at me.

“Oh, hey,” he says innocently, coming to slide over into the seat next to me. I let him, even allowing him to push me over so he has more room. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

I roll my eyes. “Next you’ll tell me you have a bridge to sell me,” I tell him dryly.

He looks blank. “What?”

“Nothing,” I tell him. “It’s a saying for people who…”

For people who try to defraud others out of their money.

Connie clears her throat, looking pointedly between us. “Who’s this?” she prompts.

I find myself sighing again. “Connie, this is Seven. Seven, this is Connie.”

Connie gives Seven a once over. “I didn’t realize teenagers were allowed into the casino, Sebby. You used to tell me I couldn’t come in because I was underage!”

I cringe. “Connie, Seven is my boyfriend,” I tell her, already bracing myself for her reaction. “Seven, Connie is my sister.”

Seven’s eyes narrow, and he stares at her with such obvious dislike that it catches me off guard.

“Your boyfriend?” Connie repeats. “Since when do you date? You always said you didn’t have time for anything other than hookup apps.”

“I never told you I used hookup apps!” I tell her, my cheeks flushing red.

“He doesn’t have to,” Seven says, only to mutter under his breath, “Unlike you.”

Connie completely ignores the comment, the way she usually ignores things she doesn’t like. “I mean, I’m not judging, Sebby! I just thought you’d be more into guys your own age.”

She’s absolutely judging, and I find that I resent her for it.

This has to be revenge for all of her boyfriends that I’ve scared off.

“Yeah, well. Surprise,” I tell her, sliding an arm around Seven.

He presses against me, not quite looking smug, but not looking far from it, either.

“So what high school do you go to, sweetie?” Connie asks Seven. “Maybe I graduated from the same one.”

“I am not a sexual predator, Connie,” I say through gritted teeth. “He’s twenty-one.”

Probably. He’s at least eighteen, we’re sure of that much. How much older, we don’t know, but for the sake of this argument and Seven’s continued presence in the hotel, he’s legal.

Connie gives me a look. “You remember when you caught me with the fake ID?”

“He doesn’t have a fake ID,” I tell her, starting to get impatient.

He hadn’t had an ID at all, but that’s also besides the point and not ammunition I’m going to give her.

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