I take advantage of the temporary distraction as an opportunity to pour more whiskey into my cup. I know Philip will be keeping a close eye on my alcohol consumption, and I want some liquid courage for whenever Jace appears.

Katie’s eyes are wide as she takes in our surroundings. She glances over at each person who enters or leaves the kitchen.

“Everything you thought it’d be?” I tease her.

She laughs. “I can check it off my bucket list.”

Anderson and Philip return to our spot by the fridge. “Happens every time,” Anderson says, shaking his head.

“Breakables don’t fare well at college parties,” I remark. “Shocking.”

Anderson grins at my sarcasm and opens his mouth to say something in response. He’s interrupted by the sound of his own name being called from the poker room.

“Shit, it must be my turn again already,” he tells us. “Any of you want to come watch the game?”

Philip and Katie both remain silent, but I jump at the opportunity. I’ve played plenty of poker with the children of diplomats following my parents’ dinner parties, but I’m mostly curious about what other comments Jace’s teammates may make.

“Do you guys mind?” I ask Philip and Katie innocently.

Philip sends me a sharp look that makes it clear that he does mind, but he stays silent.

“I’m good as long as Philip’s keeping me company,” Katie replies, eyeing Anderson bashfully.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon,” I say before following Anderson back into the dining room.

He takes the one empty chair at the table, but stands right back to grab a small rectangular bookshelf that he moves beside his chair for me to sit on.

“How chivalrous, Anderson,” the guy sitting next to him remarks.

“Can it, Owens,” Anderson responds. I take a seat on the sturdy wood next to him.

Owens leans forward and gives me a smirk. “Nice to see you again, Vivienne.”

“Have we met before?” I ask, confused.

“Not officially. But you became my new favorite person after you lectured Coach on his throwing technique history.” He winks, then leans back.

By the time the poker game ends, my cup is empty and my cheeks hurt from all the smiling I’ve done in response to the lively banter flying around the table. At the moment, the guys are all complaining about Anderson’s victory, thanks to his wise decision to follow my strategic suggestions.

“Unbelievable,” one groans.

Owens grins at me. “Time to show us whether you were just lucky.”

He and Anderson scoot further apart so that I have room to move closer to the table as new hands are being dealt. I spot a few liquor bottles sitting in the corner of the room, so I stand and refill my cup with more whiskey, eager to prolong the pleasant buzz I’m experiencing.

When I return to the table, I’m dealt in, and the second game begins. My dry sarcasm proves to meld well with the rest of the playful digs being tossed around the table, and I’m surprised by how much I’m enjoying myself. The game progresses quickly, and I’m just about to lay down my winning hand when chatter around the table ceases.