Sordid (Sordid 1)

“That’s good, thanks,” I said.

He rewarded me with a quirk of his eyebrow. I watched as it lifted into a perfect arrow, just like the mathematical symbol for a logical conjunction. How ridiculous was it I’d waited two years for this exact response? My knees grew weaker.

“You waited in line for a sip of beer?” The astronaut laughed and turned his focus to Luka. “Fill her up.”

“No, thank you.” I pulled my cup away. “I’m not much of a beer drinker.”

“You want something different?” The astronaut said. It was unavoidable that my gaze connected with Luka’s. Yes, I thought. I’d like something different than the stranger at my side who still had his hand on my waist like he’d laid his claim. I wouldn’t mind something more like the quiet man before me. I shifted my weight to my opposite foot, easing myself away from the hand.

“They’ve got blackjack shots in the game room.” Luka’s voice was so deep it was startling, and froze me in place.

I tried to sound confident and unaffected. “What kind of alcohol is Blackjack?”

“No,” Luka said. “They’re playing blackjack. You do a shot of tequila if you lose.”

“Oh?” It came out sounded eager, even when I didn’t mean for it to.

He cocked his head to the side, as if noticing something interesting about me, although I couldn’t fathom what. “You know how to play?”

I pressed my lips together. “I do.”

“I got too fucked up on tequila last week,” the astronaut interrupted. “If I smell it, I’ll hurl.”

A beast of a guy appeared beside Luka, grunted a thanks, and instantly Luka handed over the tap, abandoning his job of dispensing beer. It left the astronaut, Luka, and me standing awkwardly in a circle. His black-eyed gaze swept over me once more. “I’m heading that way, Addison. You want to play?”

Oh my God. He knew my name? My throat closed up and I dry-swallowed. The question rang in my head. You want to play? Since I couldn’t find words, I nodded quickly.

He jerked his head toward the doorway. “Come on.”

I didn’t even look back at the astronaut as I followed Luka. I watched his broad back while we wormed through the crowd into the darkened hallway where both the noise and the music grew louder. It was hot and humid from the bodies packed in the house, and the air in the game room was thick.

House parties were more intimate than the bars. You had to lean close and shout your conversations in the other person’s ear to be heard over the pulsing, frenetic beats. It drew Luka up beside me and his lips hovered beside my neck.

“It’s Addison, right?” he shouted. “Your name?”

He smelled like woodsy heaven as I leaned forward. “Yeah. You’re Luka?”

I pulled back just in time to see the pleased look flash in his eyes. It only lasted a second, but it was exciting. He nodded as we continued toward the back of the room. When there wasn’t a party going on, I assumed the couches that lined the walls were probably staggered in the room. The ping pong table in the corner was in use for beer pong, and opposite it was a green felt-covered poker table.

Luka didn’t seem like the type to belong to a fraternity, but then again, what did I know? He’d always been aloof during class. Isolated from anyone else. Perhaps it was why I’d found him so attractive. We seemed a lot alike.

There was a deck of cards at the table, and beside it, two bottles of cheap tequila with pourers capped in. A small crowd watched the guys playing a round, and when it was over, the loser picked up the bottle and poured a stream of tequila into his open mouth.

Well, I thought, at least that’s sanitary.

“I need to watch for a minute,” I said, when Luka motioned toward the table. The corner of his mouth curled upward. Was that a smile? It vanished instantly.

I loved card games in all of their forms. I’d spent many nights volunteering at the emergency room hospital, and played with the other orderlies and nurses during the quiet times. We’d gambled for money or snacks from the vending machine, and usually I cleaned up. Blackjack was my favorite. I’d learned from the internet how to count cards so I knew when my hand would be most favorable.

After a few more rounds, the two guys at the table cleared out and a new pair moved in. Luka’s gaze drifted to me, but I took a sip of my beer to stall. I still didn’t have a good read. I’d assigned a point value to each card I’d seen and kept the total running in my head.

“You keep drinking that,” Luka’s voice invaded my ear, “and you won’t have anything to chase your shots with.”