Page 86 of Deep In Love
He removes his hand to place a card down on the table, then glances at me, and his delight morphs into something smug from the take four Uno card sitting on top of the pile.
“Are you serious?”
“As the plague. Take eight, bruja.” He pushes the pile of cards in my direction. “All is fair in love and war.”
I scowl at Mateo, and Jett releases a belly laugh, banging on the table.
“This isn’t war, it’s freaking Uno,” I yell, clutching the two dozen cards already in my grip, thanks to Mateo and Jett, who have been harassing me all evening.
“And you’re losing,” Jett adds. “You do know you’re supposed to get rid of the cards, not collect more.”
I hate them.
Sofía and Vivian stifle their laughter, and I glare daggers at them. What happened to best friends at sea? Do the sacred bonds of boat friendships mean nothing anymore?
“Traitors,” I cough, fixing my glare on them.
“I’m glad it’s not me,” Sofía says as I begrudgingly take the eight cards.
“I wouldneverbetray you,” Jett whispers, winking at her.
She turns away, but I see her crimson cheeks.
“Did you hear that, Mateo? Jett wouldneverbetray her.” I lay the sarcasm on thick.
Mateo cackles. Hefuckingcackles. “If I let you win, you would force me to play again, just to prove you could win without me handing it to you.”
I nearly draw blood from how hard I bite the inside of my cheek. Because he knows he’s right, he winks and returns his focus to the table.
We work in a circle while everyone’s cards dwindle. Well, everyone’s except mine. Mateo’s hand returns to sit on my thigh, his fingers playing a silent tune as they tap my skin. He places down a card with his free hand, looks me dead in my eyes, and calls out, “Uno.”
The table is a chorus of “whats” and “hows” as he holds a single card in his grip.
His concentration never wavers and mirth swirls in his gaze. This was his plan all along. Have them focus on sabotaging me so they stop paying attention to him.
Evil genius.
I shake my head in disbelief.
Everyone panics, shuffling through their cards to find a skip or debating what color he has. It’s futile. Mateo is many things, and brilliant is at the top of the list, right beside charming.
In the week and a half we’ve been on the boat, I’ve realized maybe I know more about him than I thought. Sure, I didn’t know his favorite color or how he likes his eggs—scrambled with hot sauce—but I knowhim. I know he needs to read in special fonts on his computer, otherwise his temples throb with a headache. I can identify all of his tics. Running his fingers through his hair whenhe’s unsettled. Humming when he’s content. I can decipher each of his smiles and understand the meaning behind them.
I know him, which means I know he’s holding a wild card in his hand. It doesn’t matter what color they change it to or if they skip him. The only way he loses is if the person in front of him plays a take four. That person is me—thanks to Jett’s reverse card—and while I have a billion options, none of them will add to his deck or delay his inevitable victory.
“How did you get rid of your cards so quickly?” Vivian questions.
He shrugs. I lay down my card, and Mateo drops his wild on top. His shoulder grazes mine, causing my skin to buzz.
“He’s clever,” I groan. “He lures you in with his good looks and kind smile, thenbam! He takes the victory, and you’re none the wiser that it was his plan all along.”
I’m working myself up into a tizzy, but I’ve been strung tight all day from his touch, and now I’ve lost in a card game. I hate losing. Mateo’s lips quiver as he fights laughter, and Vivian is outright cackling, her face red from lack of oxygen.
Add poor loser to my list of undesirable attributes.
It wouldn’t have hurt as badly if I wasn’t part of Mateo’s grand plan for victory, using me as a pig for slaughter. I can slash any worry that the change in our relationship would alter our dynamic. He’s still annoying as ever, only now I find it endearing and weirdly hot rather than the bane of my existence.
He’s still a cocky asshole, but now he’smycocky asshole.
