“I’m sure.” I’d never had money I was willing to risk losing by gambling.

“And here comes your prince now. With food.” Eugene gestured toward the front of the lobby where Milo was scanning the crowd.

I waved him over before answering Eugene. “Just because he cosplays as Neptune doesn’t make him my prince.”

“Wait a sec.” Eugene’s eyes went wide as his nose wrinkled. He wasn’t a cosplay fan. “You’re saying you got him to wear a toga and do that whole costume-brigade thing you do? And you don’t think he’s into you?”

If only. But I didn’t get a chance to set him straight before Milo was right next to us with my sandwich and an endearingly eager expression. “It’s still cold out so I got you cheese steak. Figured you’d need something warm. It’s drafty in here.”

Eugene’s expression behind Milo’s back was all-knowing. He needed to get a grip if he was seeing heart eyes while Milo was simply trying to keep me fed so I’d win his cards for him. And I needed to remember that too. Milo was only here because he needed something, not because he needed me. I should tattoo that difference on my arm because it was too easy to forget, especially when he plunked down next to me, our legs brushing as he squeezed in so others could pass.

“Oops. Sorry.”

“No worries.” I accepted the food from him and unwrapped my sandwich, which smelled as good as it looked.

“Food okay? You can trade with me if you want. I got meatball.” Milo held out his own sandwich. Cute. He was cute in all senses of the word, and my stomach wobbled. Danger. Danger.

“I’m good.”

“So you keep saying,” he teased. Our gazes met, and his little grin made me want to pretend just for a second that he was here for me, that he was my guy, and that he actually cared about warming me up. He leaned forward. “Tell me about your morning?”

“Not bad. My transforming deck is getting a workout.” I had a couple of competitive decks, but the transforming deck was my standby, and its tricky mechanic was working well against some pricier decks.

“Yeah, it is. You sure that you’re not going for a top-eight finish?” Eugene asked right as his friends arrived with food of their own. He ended up with a girl on either side of him and some sort of fancy salad to eat.

“Nah. I mean, it would be nice, but I’m not all that.”

“You’re too humble,” Milo insisted, bumping shoulders with me. “I saw you win a number of rounds. Lots of points?”

Points. Yeah. His cards. Why we were there. Sigh. “Some.”