Chapter 23

They don't talkabout it.

Sara doesn't ask, Seth doesn't offer, and so the conversation dies before it even begins. She does think about it, though. It's in the back of her mind when she drives to class, when she does her grocery shopping, when she faithfully locks her deadbolt the moment she's through the front door.

A week later, Jen invites her out for dinner and drinks, and Sara jumps at the chance to be out of her apartment and out of her own head for an evening. Part of her expects Seth to argue when she asks him to leave her be for the night, but he only shrugs. Then she's stumbling out of the restaurant with Jen, their arms linked and laughter slurred, and she spots him across the street. She's so drunk, she shouldn't have even noticed him—he's a charcoal shadow blending into the building behind him—but, somehow, her eyes find him as easily as if he were the only spot of color in a sea of gray. He stays, stone still and ever watchful, until the very moment Miles pulls up and helps them safely into the car. When she arrives home, he's curled up in his chair with Ansel on his lap watching reruns of Amor Prohibito.

"Was it a worthwhile evening?" he asks.

He makes no indication that he ever left the apartment, so Sara doesn't either. "It was fun."

Seth nods. "Good." His eyes flit from her bare feet to the heels in her hands and chuckles. "Get to bed, Princess. The morning will come all too soon."

It's a good suggestion. A great one, in fact. She barely manages to change into an oversized t-shirt before her body hits the bed.

When she wakes up, Sara fully expects her hangover to be the worst of her problems. Her head throbs with her pulse, cotton lining her tongue and her stomach lurching when she stands. It's only after forcing down some pills and half a slice of dry toast that her stomach feels calm enough to trust. Seth watches her, wearing that infuriatingly smug grin the whole time, but he's at least smart enough not to comment.

Then she gets in her car, turns the key, and listens to the engine sputter and whine.

Sara frowns, tries it again. The engine turns over, and she breathes a sigh of relief and chalks it up to the freezing temperatures.

Until she gets about a mile down the street.

"No, no, no!" she mutters, panic rising faster than the smoke from beneath her hood. "Please, please don't do this to me. Not today. Please, not today."

The engine responds with a final, sputtering breath before going silent. Sara swears using just about every curse she knows as she drifts to the side of the road, clumsily searching for the hazard lights. Dark smoke leaks out from under the hood, mixing with the steam.

She stares, disbelievingly, before her head drops to the steering wheel with a loud curse.

She waitstwo hours for the tow truck, and another thirty minutes at the mechanic's filling out paperwork. By the time she leaves, it's well past noon, but the mechanic promises to email her a repair estimate before the end of the day. Instead of picking up groceries, she orders a pizza while riding the bus home (and tries not to cringe when they tell her the total).

Three hours later, the pizza sits like lead in her stomach as she stares at the emailed estimate on her phone.

She should have bought instant noodles instead.

"What are you doing?" Seth says, frowning at her. "Don't you have an essay due tomorrow in your art history class?"

The reminder only serves to make her feel even more stressed. "It's half done."

He glances at the clock, his eyebrows raised. "Do you believe the other half will write itself?"

"Shut up. Please, just shut up." She rubs at her temples, staring at the numbers as if looking long enough will change them.

She can feel his stare, almost pinpoint the exact moment he recognizes the tension in her. "What's wrong?"

She can't bring herself to explain, so she holds up the repair bill in silent invitation.

A beat, perhaps two. "Ah. Yes, I can see how that would be mildly concerning."

Sara groans, laying her face in the fold of her arms. "I need to get a job."

Seth frowns, and for a moment he looks legitimately troubled. "No, you need these last few weeks to study. Particularly, if you still wish to pass without my interference."

She hates that he's right (she hates that she doesn't have another solution even more).

Seth hums thoughtfully. "You could try gambling."

Sara is in absolutely no mood for his humor. "You're not funny."

"I'm not joking."

Her head rolls to the side, temple pressed uncomfortably against the fragile bones of her wrist, as she looks at him. His blank expression instills little to no confidence. "Even if I had money to throw away, I suck at gambling."

The exasperated twist in his expression would almost be comical if it weren't for its tendency to make her feel like a child. "You have me, Princess. How could you possibly lose?"

Understanding dawns. "That's cheating."

"Your point?"

She shakes her head, sitting up and turning until she's facing him fully. "That is my point!"

"Please, it's hardly as if they don't cheat themselves. You honestly believe all those pretty machines are random?" When she is unmoved, he rolls his eyes. "Think of it as divine intervention."

"There's nothing divine about you."

"Fair point. Think of how miserable you'll be if you have to repeat your literature class."

Sara blanches, mouth souring at the thought. "Do...do you really think it would work?"

"I suspect you're an abysmal player at best, but so long as you do what I say and at least make an attempt at having a poker face, I suspect we will get on just fine."

Her fingers play with the hem of her flannel shirt, eyes tracing and retracing the numbers on the estimate. "Ok, but, maybe we should test it out first?"

Seth's smile goes wicked at the corners. "I happen to know a fellow."

Miles had been thrilledwhen she asked if he could teach her how to play. Sara hadn't even known he had a love for it (and she's mildly concerned that, somehow, Seth had). However, his enthusiasm started to trickle away two drinks and six hands ago.

"You're sure you've never played before?" he asks (again) as he shuffles the cards. Sara notices that he spends way more time ensuring they're mixed well compared to the first hand he dealt.

Jen swats his arm, a buzzed smile curling her mouth. Sara lost track of what glass she's on. "You already asked her that."

Miles grumbles something unintelligible under his breath, but deals out the cards.

Sara shakes her head, glancing at her hand.

Seth hovers over her shoulder, evaluating her cards. "You'll want to hold on to that one, Princess." He's so close; were he anyone else—anyone with physical form—she would feel the heat of his body at her back. She swallows, trying to banish the thought, but his mouth is so close to her ear and— "You're only a card away from a flush."

She feels the last word—an impossible whisper of warm breath against her cheek—and she jumps, cards slipping from her hands and spiraling to her feet.

Seth pulls away from her, casting her a perplexed look that would match her friends' exactly had there been a touch of concern. Instead, he almost seems put out. "What on God's earth was that?"

"Uh, Sara? You ok?" Miles asks.

"No, Captain Obvious. She's obviously not. Honestly, what the bloody hell was that?! You just wasted a winning hand!"

Jen gives a drunken laugh, waving off his concern before Sara can bother. "She's fine," she slurs, before slapping her cards on the table. "I have two three's! Do I win?"

Miles sighs. "Baby, maybe you should sit a few out."

"What?! No, I'm winning!"

He runs a hand over his face, an exasperated (yet fond) smile dimpling his cheek. "Honey, I love you, but you weren't even supposed to show your hand yet."

Jen looks down at her cards proudly splayed across the table. "Oh."

He gives her a sympathetic rub on the back. "Next time, baby." Miles shoots her a questioning look. "You still good to play?"

Sara's sober enough to sense what he's really asking. "Um, yeah. I'm fine. I, uh, fold I guess."

Seth's still staring at her, a frown turning the corners of his mouth. "Well, I should bloody well hope so. I was fully prepared for you to be lousy, but this is borderline embarrassing."

It takes just about every ounce of her willpower to withhold the urge to send him a scathing glare while Miles finishes reshuffling the cards and deals out a new hand.

She gets a bit better at it, though Seth insists that her poker face still needs work. Since he can't lie, she's stuck with no other choice than to believe him. After another ten rounds, she's gathered almost all the chips. When she folds, Miles tosses his cards on the table with a muttered curse.

His three aces would have definitely beaten out her pair of tens.

"Ok, I know there's something to be said about beginner's luck, but this is bullshit."

Jen laughs, absolutely thrilled. "She's kicking your ass!"

"I thought you said you didn't play!" he accuses. "It's like you know every time I have a good hand." He looks behind his shoulder, searching.

Jen laughs harder, but Sara only finds herself more confused as he leans in his chair. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to figure out how your cheating butt is seeing my cards." He points to a picture on the wall—the one of him and Jen from their trip to Texas last year. "It's the picture frame, isn't it? The reflection?"

Seth snickers from behind his hand, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "Oh, don't you dare spoil this for me. This is going to bother him for weeks."

Sara rolls her eyes, though she can't really tell which man she's more exasperated with. "I can't see your cards."

"Yeah, uh huh." Miles stands, moving to her side of the table and kneeling until they're at the same eye level. Behind his thick-rimmed glasses, he squints as he searches the opposite wall. "Seriously, though. How the hell are you doing that?"

"She's got skills to pay the bills!" Jen exclaims between giggles.

Sara fights a smile, shrugging. "Maybe I have an invisible friend whispering in my ear."

Miles scoffs. "Hilarious."

"Oh!" Jen gasps, "We should go to the casino!"

Sara catches Miles' pleading look, smiling. "We totally should," she says, watching his face drop before she adds, "next time."

Jen groans. Miles mouths a silent, yet somehow emphatic, ‘thank you.'

It's freezing outside,crisp in ways that are borderline painful. Sara shivers, pulling her coat closer around her neck and stubbornly wills her teeth to stop chattering. Beside her, Seth is completely unfazed—his bare fingers playing idly with the chain of his pocket watch and his eyes distant.

"How are you not f-freezing?" she asks, bouncing on the pads of her feet.

He blinks, regarding her strangely. "Beg your pardon?"

Sara frowns. He's never had to ask her to repeat anything. Never. "What's wrong?"

Seth shifts awkwardly, hands disappearing in his pockets, but he meets her eyes. "In there, you said friend."

Sara frowns, trying to figure out what he's referring to. When she does, she fights the heat rising to her cheeks. "Oh. Well, yeah. We're friends." It's not something she ever really evaluated, but it feels right. It feels true. At some point, he's transformed from her personal nightmare to someone she looks forward to seeing. She can't even pinpoint when it changed; each shift a subtle layer of gossamer.

Seth is still staring at her, lips parted and brows furrowed, and Sara feels a sudden pang of insecurity. "Aren't we?"

His lips twitch into a crooked smile, his gaze lowering as he clears his throat. "Yes. I rather think we are."

The next day,she takes the bus to the closest casino. Between the Blackjack and poker tables, she more than doubles the amount she needs to repair her car.

"Time to go, Princess. The big men upstairs are watching you a little too closely," he murmurs, his grin wide. This time, when Sara feels his breath whisper across her wine-flushed skin, she doesn't jump.