Page 160 of The Faking Game

West’s gaze meets mine for a second before he looks back out at the ocean. He could say anything. So could I, when it’s my turn next. Unless he takes that secret we share first and spills it to this table and lets the crumbs fall where they may.

“The Paradise Lost party,” he says, “was at the Whitman house.”

Alex groans. “Fucking hell. That’s a bit on the nose.”

“You didn’t tell us earlier because you wanted to save it for a buy-in,” James says.

West’s gaze slides to him. “Yes.”

He nods, a faint look of amusement on his bored features. “I respect it.”

“Was Hadrian there?”

“I didn’t see him. But he was invited.” West’s jaw works once. “The place was half empty and trashed.”

“Fuck,” Alex repeats.

I look around the table and clear my voice. “He used to be your friend, right? When you were all at boarding school.”

“Once upon a time, yes,” West said.

There are unspoken secrets between them, tightening and pulsating in the air. I wonder at the four friends who are more like brothers, and the fifth one who fell away all those years ago.

It’s James who finally speaks. “He’s irrelevant tonight. Nora, you’re next.”

My gaze flickers up to West again and then over to where Alex is grinning. “The secret doesn’t have to be about me. Does it?”

“Sure doesn’t,” he confirms.

I meet West’s gaze. He’s watching me beneath those thick eyebrows, one scarred, one whole. Then I move on and look at my brother. “When Rafe was nine?—”

“Oh no,” he groans.

“Ohyes,” Alex says.

“—he lost at Monopoly to one of our cousins and cried for six hours straight. He had to be carried upstairs and threw a fit in his room. What did you destroy? Books, right? Ripped out every page.”

“Yes,” he mutters.

“Sixhours?” James asks.

“I’m committed to making money. What can I say?” Rafe sends me a dark glare, and it doesn’t make me wilt. Doesn’t make me feel guilt.

I smile at him in triumph. “Whoops.”

Alex holds up his hands. “Look, mate, is that what happens every time you lose one of these games? Is that why you disappear for six hours?”

“Six hours,” West repeats, “of crying?”

“Thank you very much for sharing that with the group,” Rafe tells me in a pained voice. “I appreciate it so much.”

“I do.” Alex reaches out to pat me on the shoulder. “You’re playing with us every time from now on.”

My cheeks warm. “I could have done worse, Rafe.”

He mutters something unintelligible and starts dealing out the cards. Across the table, West’s eyes are on me. There’s a smile in them, and I don’t need to hear him speak to see the praise he’s sending my way.Well done.Heat spreads down my chest, pools in my stomach.

I lift my cards and keep them close to my chest. The others do the same. Alex groans, and James tells him to shut up and stop bluffing.

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