15. Cecelia #2
That earns me a laugh—low, warm, and far too distracting. Focus, CeCe. Competitive mode activated. Time to crush Cade's spirit.
In a loving, family kind of way.
The next hand, I lock in. Seven-Card Stud isn’t complicated once you get into the rhythm, but paying attention is key. You have to watch what’s showing on the table and keep track of the cards that could help you or hurt you.
And I’m good at that.
I win the next hand and then the next. Cade’s confidence is starting to crack.
He groans when I rake another pile of chips toward me. “Why do we let her play? She’s a menace.”
“Thank you,” I say sweetly.
Solomon watches all of this with growing amusement. Every so often, when I make an especially aggressive bet, he leans back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes fixed on me like I’m the most interesting thing at the table.
It’s… distracting.
By the seventh or eighth hand, the non-Ransome players have all folded. Violet eventually gives up, setting her cards down with a dramatic sigh.
“I fold as a matter of self-preservation,” she says. “And because watching CeCe’s face right now is better entertainment than Netflix.”
“What’s wrong with my face?” I ask.
She beams. “Nothing. Solomon seems pretty into it.”
I choke on absolutely nothing. Solomon pretends to study his cards, but the corner of his mouth definitely twitches.
“Vi,” I hiss.
“Hmm?” she says, all innocence.
Heat explodes in my cheeks. “Can you all play instead of psychoanalyzing me?”
But it’s too late. Tension hums softly between me and Solomon now, growing each time our hands brush reaching for chips, each time our gazes catch and hold. I can’t name whatever it is that’s crackling in the air between us, but I feel it build, slow and steady.
Eventually, it’s just the two of us left.
Solomon has a modest lead. I still want to win—this is me, we’re talking about. I always want to win—but the truth is, I’m enjoying this. Knowing that he’s matching me card for card. The teasing glances. The way he studies me like he’s trying to memorize every reaction.
Cade deals the final down card. “Moment of truth,” he says.
I peek at mine. I’ve got nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Solomon raises by a small, almost polite amount and I match him, mostly out of stubbornness.
“Turn ‘em over,” Cade says, and we do. Solomon has a decent two pair. I have one measly pair of tens.
He wins.
The table erupts into cheers and groans. Cade looks overjoyed that I didn’t pull off a heroic comeback.
But I just sit back, strangely… fine. Almost light.
Solomon gathers the pot, and when he looks up at me, there’s a teasing glint in his eye as he tilts his head. “You okay losing, Cecelia?”
“I never lose,” I say, deadpan. “I just recalibrate.”
He laughs—full and warm and so genuine it hits me square in the chest.
And when his knee bumps mine under the table and he doesn’t move it right away, I don’t either.
After the poker game breaks up, there’s a decided uptick in noise at the party. Vega decides she just has to dance, so she turns the music up and starts dragging people—both willing and not—to the center of the living room.
Solomon seems okay, but I remember what he told me about loud noises and crowds.
This is definitely starting to feel more like a typical college party, though not quite at the level of the frat party Jay wanted to bring him too.
Still, I figure it would be good to get out of the noise a little, so I take him to the kitchen to get more beer, then lead the way to the backyard.
The party has spilled out to the patio back here, but it’s not nearly as intense as what’s happening inside.
It’s also a lot darker, so it feels more private.
Ash, still trying to impress Art History girl, has his guitar by the fire pit.
I roll my eyes at the soppy expression on her face in the firelight while she stares up at him in awe.
“Does everyone in your family play?” Solomon asks me, watching Ash from the quiet corner we found.
“Pretty much. My grandpa insisted on teaching all of us, but it stuck better for some than others.”
I feel his eyes on me. “Am I right to assume from that tone you weren’t one of the ones it stuck with?”
“What tone?”
He grins. “That pissy tone you get when you’re not the best at something.”
“I don’t get a pissy tone!”
He just laughs and, to my surprise, I find myself grinning too. I’m also leaning toward him, but I can’t seem to move away. And I’m pretty sure his eyes just darted to my mouth.
“There you guys are,” a booming voice says, and we both startle as Jay appears at our side. “I saw the poker game broke up but I didn’t see where you went.”
I should probably feel relieved at his appearance. I know that I’m playing with fire, being this close to Solomon, alone on this part of the patio, brazenly leaning into him like I’d left both my dignity and my self-preservation back in the house.
But I don’t feel relieved when Sol takes a step away from me before turning his attention to his friend. All I feel is annoyed at Jay for interrupting us.
“Are you having fun?” I ask him, trying to keep my voice from revealing my silly displeasure.
“This party is great,” he says with enthusiasm. “I really like your teammates.”
“There it is,” Solomon mutters.
“There what is?” I ask.
“The reason for Jay’s appearance. He wants your help to hit on some poor, unsuspecting soccer player.”
“That’s not true!” Jay’s voice is filled with what I assume to be mock outrage. “I just wanted to say hi to two of my favorite people. What’s wrong with that?”
Solomon raises an eyebrow, staring at Jay until he sighs. “Fine. I was hoping CeCe might give me some tips on how to get Gwen to talk to me.”
“Gwen?” I ask, trying not to laugh. “Oh, buddy. You don’t want to go there.”
“Why not? She’s fucking hot!”
“She definitely is. But she, uh, usually only dates other athletes.” I make a sympathetic face. “Big ones.”
“Seriously?”
I grimace. “Her last boyfriend was the tight end of the football team.”
His expression turns to outrage. “Are you saying I’m not manly enough for Gwen?”
“She’s saying Gwen is out of your league,” Sol says. “She’s just trying to be nice about it.”
Jay visibly deflates. “It’s not fair. What does some college football player have that I don’t have?”
“Muscles,” Solomon says immediately and I struggle to stifle my laugh as Jay glares at him.
“Easy for you to talk. You get more girls than anyone at this school.”
I raise an eyebrow at Solomon. “Is that so?”
Jay scoffs. “All he has to do is stand there and act like his usual broody, grumpy-ass self and girls practically throw themselves at him.”
I feel a slight twinge of jealousy at that, but it doesn’t last when I look at Solomon’s face. “Are you blushing?” I ask, delighted.
“I’m not,” he mutters, not meeting my eyes. “It’s dark out here.”
I feel positively gleeful. “Solomon Barnes, are you a ladies’ man?”
He grumbles under his breath, cheeks even redder now.
“Don’t let him fool you,” Jay says. “Girls are obsessed with him. It’s been like this since high school.” He sighs. “Maybe I should try standing around not talking and looking serious all the time.”
I can’t keep my eyes from traveling over Solomon’s body. His height, his chest, those broad shoulders. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the man’s movie-star-worthy face is so stupidly handsome that it feels unfair.
Yeah, I don’t think it’s only the serious and quiet thing that has the girls swarming around him.
Then our eyes meet, and he doesn’t seem so embarrassed anymore. In fact, he’s looking at me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. And he doesn’t seem put off by my blatant appraisal in the slightest.
Suddenly feeling flustered, I turn back to Jay. Much safer territory. “Did you meet Kia? Sophomore, blond hair.”
He screws up his face, thinking about it. “I think so. Was she wearing a pink sweater?”
“That’s her.” I pat his shoulder. “She broke up with her boyfriend a month ago and I heard her mention she might be ready to start dating again. She’s super sweet and she has a mean instep kick.”
Sol snorts. “Of course that’s what you point out.”
I flip him off without looking and keep my attention on Jay. “She has a corgi dog that she’s like, obsessed with. That could be your in.”
“Sweet,” Jay says, all bitterness about Gwen’s athlete preferences forgotten. “You’re the best, Ceece.”