I open my mouth to tell Greyson I need to leave, but close my trap when he enters a room with a heavy game of poker going on.

“You’re into cards?” I question, staring at the table covered with poker chips and cards.

“It’s okay. It can be really fun when you’re drunk.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Are you?”

I mentally try to calculate a problem using the quadratic formula I learned in Pre-Cal, but then realize I couldn’t even figure out the answer sober.

“What are you thinking about?” Greyson's gaze zeros in on my lips and desire fills his eyes.

“You really want to know?” I ask and he nods. “The quadratic formula.”

The desire deflates like a balloon. “What?”

“Never mind.” I nod at the table five guys and three girls are seated around. “So, are we going to play?”

“Do you know how?”

“Of course.”

A thoughtful look crosses his face. “Okay, good, because I want to make a wager.”

“A wager?”

“Yeah, if I win more than you, you have to go to this art show with me.”

I hesitate. “And if I win?”

He shrugs. “You can have anything you want.”

My skin warms as thousands of very vivid images of what I want flash through my mind.

“All right, you have a deal.” I stick out my hand to shake on it.

He wraps his hand around mine, grips tightly and slides his finger along the inside of my wrist as he pulls away.

“Can I just say again that I seriously don’t understand why you think you’re awkward,” I tell him. “You’re kind of the exact opposite.”

“Well, I’m kind of a little drunk right now, so the alcohol puts the weirdo inside me to sleep.”

I shake my head, laughing under my breath. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

“Wait, aren’t you going to tell me what you want if you win?” he asks, rolling his tongue along the inside of his mouth to stop himself from grinning.

I shake my head. “Nope. You’re just going to have to wait until after I win.”

His eyes glimmer with amusement as I hedge around him and take a seat at the table. He sits down beside me, we both buy a fair amount of chips, and the game begins. We’re not really playing against everyone else, so Greyson and I keep our own little tally as hand after hand is dealt. I’m a pretty decent player, but Greyson seems to be a bit better. He keeps smirking in my direction, like he’s sure he’s going to kick my ass.

Two hours later, I’ve gotten lost in the game and the worry about everyone watching me has dissipated. The downside, I’ve lost all my chips and the wager we made. My stomach churns as we leave the table and the party, knowing that I have no excuse not to go with him to the art show. Whether I’m over my fear or not, I have to go out on a date with him.

“A penny for your thoughts?” he asks as we stroll up the sidewalk toward the campus that’s a few blocks away.

“I was just thinking about how much I hate to lose.” I fake a pout. “I’m an extremely sore loser.”

“And I’m kind of an arrogant winner.” He forces a smirk, but then busts up laughing. “Okay, actually I’m not. In fact, I kind of feel bad that you lost.”

“Enough to let me win, perhaps?”

“No way. I’m holding you to our deal. Besides, I hate going to these art shows by myself. The room is always so stuffy and so are most of the people.”

“But you’re an art major.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean I fit the mold of art gallery people.”

We pause at the corner, checking for traffic before stepping off the curb to cross the street. My head is still spinning a bit, and I’m not sure if it’s the alcohol or Greyson. The streets are mostly deserted at this hour and it’s so quiet I can almost pretend that Greyson and I are the only two people who exist. If only I could feel that way all the time. Life would be so much easier.

“I’ll tell you what.” Greyson walks backwards so he’s facing me. “How about we consider both of us winners? You go to the art show with me and you get one thing of your choice.”

“You know, you’re putting a lot of trust in me right now,” I say as I hop up onto the sidewalk. “Giving me free reign to do whatever I want, especially when I have such a wild imagination.”

He stops walking and I almost run into him. “Okay, now you’ve got me wondering what the hell you’re going to pick.”

I flash him a wicked smirk. “Oh, no. I’m not going to pick something right away. I’m going to wait until the perfect moment and spring it on you.”

He restrains a grin as we start walking again. “Fine. But you still have to go to the art show with me. That’s the deal.”

I nod, shaking, terrified to death. “It’s next Friday night, right?”

He nods, slowing down as we reach the front of my lofty dorm building. Most of the lights are off and the air carries a stillness to it.

“So, this is me,” I tell him, digging my keycard out of my pocket.

I’m not sure what exactly I’m supposed to do. Invite him in? Yeah, I’m sure my roommate would love that. Then again, he’s never there.

I press my hand to my head. God, I’m getting a headache from the stress.

“I need to get home,” Greyson says, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d guess he was saving me from my inner conflict. “But I’ll call you tomorrow and give you all the details about the show. The time, place, and whatnot. Jenna and Ari are going to be driving. I hope that’s okay.”