I know I can’t get involved with her the way I want to, but I can’t help but curse my luck. I’ve only known the girl a few days but already I’m more interested in her than any girl I’ve ever met. I hate that this is the way it has to be, that if I want my dream, I can’t have her. It’s a battle between what I want and what I can’t give up. The last thing I want is to hurt her, yet I have to.

I’m going to get her to trust me, to let me in, to tell me her secrets, and then I’m going to show up and sit across the table from her in May.

And she’s going to hate me.

I wrap my coat tight around my waist and tuck my hands under the sleeves as we walk the beach. It’s not cold, not really, but I’m a wimp and a true Floridian so naturally – I’m freezing. Even though the water is like ice, we still walk barefoot along the shore, letting the waves wash over our toes.

I know I’m in dangerous territory being here with Kip. I started out strong tonight, or at least I thought I did. I was kind of a bitch to him earlier, yet he still wanted me to come home with him.

Damn it.

I need him to just tell me to get lost so I can tell my Big he changed his mind, that he’s not into me. The more we dance on this side of the line, the harder it will be to get her to drop this game of hers. If she’s hell bent on getting him back and there’s any way I can help make it happen, she’s going to use me.

There’s also the fact that I like being around him. I like it way more than I care to admit and that’s not good. It would be hard enough to stay away from him, but if I have to be around him and yet not have him the way I want to? Yeah, I think that would be worse. He was my target – I zeroed in on him the first night we met. And now I have to take my finger off the trigger seconds before shooting and aim another direction.

I’m not a happy camper.

Kip’s shoulder brushes mine, waking up my senses to realize just how close we’re walking. He turns toward me, his bright eyes reflecting the turquoise blue of the water. “So, why poker?”

“What do you mean? Like why do I play?”

“Yeah, how did you get started playing? And why do you do it professionally?”

“Are you interviewing me for ESPN?” I ask, lifting my brows in amusement.

He smiles and looks back out at the water. “I’m just curious about you.”

“Well, it’s a pretty boring story.”

“Boring is in the eye of the beholder.”

I stop walking. “I’m pretty sure that’s supposed to be beauty.”

“I amended it. So I’ll ask again – why poker?”

We start walking again and I tuck my hands deeper into my coat. “My mom taught me how to play when I was really young. I didn’t exactly fit in when I was younger and I never got invited to birthday parties or any of that stuff that happened on the weekends.”

“You? Miss Social Butterfly? I can hardly imagine any scenario where you didn’t fit in.”

I shake my head. “Palm South is different for me, which is part of why I love it so much. I used to be pretty much invisible, and here, everyone knows me. It’s something I’ve always wanted.”

Kip scrunches his nose. “Why? Doesn’t it bother you to have everyone watching you, talking about you?”

I shrug. “No, not really. I mean, the gossiping is the downside to it, but the plus side is that I never walk into a class where I don’t know someone. I always have something to do, whether it’s the weekend or not. I’ve kind of broken out of my shell here, I guess. People love to be around me and I like to be around them, too.”

He seems to chew on that, his toes flicking up wet sand as we continue walking. Finally he asks, “So your mom taught you?”

“Yeah, she started teaching me how to play poker to lift my spirits, I guess, and we had family poker nights. My brother wasn’t as into it as I was, but he played every now and then. Mostly it was me, Mom, and Dad. Dad knew the game better, but Mom knew how to play, if that makes sense. She had a better poker face, better reads on bluffs.”

“So she taught you all your moves, huh?” He asks, quirking a brow.

I smile, nodding. “Yes, definitely. She says I’m better, but I learned everything I know from her.”

Kip is quiet for a moment and we just walk, the sound of the ocean filling the silence. After a while, he asks, “So you used to do it for fun, but when did it go from a family game night sort of thing to something professional?”

We’re getting into deeper territory, and I’m not sure I want to go there. I bite my bottom lip and consider lying, but I’ve never been one to bluff when I don’t have to. No sense in wasting a good poker face on something that isn’t that serious. Most everyone at the school knows why I play the way I do, I guess it doesn’t hurt for him to hear it from the source.

“Honestly?”

He nods. “Of course.”

I shrug. “I’m poor. Like, second-hand clothes, food stamps, lived-in-a-car-for-a-year-once poor.” I turn to see Kip’s reaction, but he doesn’t give one. He just waits for me to continue. “Well, I guess I should say I was poor. My parents work so hard, but they never went to college and their options are limited. They both work retail and Dad is close to getting promoted to management, but things are just tight. So, when I was old enough to enter tournaments, I started playing for money. I’m good at it, I like it – why not make life a little easier for my family and do it for a living?”

We stop walking and face the water, letting our feet sink deeper into the sand with every pull of a new wave. “Plus,” I add after a moment of silence. “I wouldn’t be able to come here if I didn’t do the tournaments. I pay for my tuition, books, and the sorority all on my own. This has been my first-choice school ever since I can remember. I knew coming here would be different, a chance for me to reinvent myself and be who I wanted to be – it’s a small school, everyone knows everyone, and like I said before, I’ve always wanted that. I played the part of the little fish in a big sea growing up. Now, at Palm South, people know me. People love me.” I smile, thinking of my sisters and friends on campus. They’re like my family, and I can’t imagine where I would be if I couldn’t play poker to stay here with them.

I can’t read Kip’s face, but he’s still quiet, so word vomit starts pouring out of my mouth. At this point, I’ve probably told him more than he cares to know, but it’s like I can’t stop – I can’t end the story here.

“And now I have to win enough to pay the entry fee in May. If I win that tournament, I won’t have to play professionally anymore – not unless I actually want to, at least. I’ll be able to give my parents a nice check for them to use however they need to and, more importantly, I’ll be able to pay for the rest of school and finally focus on what I really want to do.” I let that last part sink in, remembering how badly I want this win. “I have to take first place in Vegas. There’s no other option.”

Kip swallows hard, and I realize I just dumped a lot of heavy shit on him. Cool, Skyler, let’s talk about being poor with the new kid at a private school. Obviously he has money and doesn’t understand. I picture him treating me differently, looking at me with sad eyes the way the kids at my high school did. I finally fit in somewhere and instead of embracing it, I point out that it’s an illusion – I still don’t really belong.

He goes to speak, and I brace myself for the I’m so sorry, that’s so sad, you’re so strong, but instead he asks, “So what do you really want to do?”

Wait, what?

I falter for a moment, staring at him like an idiot so he lifts his brows. I shake my head. “Um, well, to be honest I don’t really know. That’s part of why I need to win this tournament. I have a few ideas of what I want to do, but as of now I’m still undecided because I’m too worried about being able to afford next semester to think about my major or future career. I need a clear head to focus on me, for once.”