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“Was I?” Sebastian asked, his face giving nothing away.
Will was enjoying himself immensely. It was nice to see Peyton meet his match. His five older brothers were forever trying to trip him up on game nights, but it was only the odd occasion that he didn’t dominate. Even Parker had trouble reading his twin, and they had the same face. Theresa—Peyton’s mum—had won once and lorded it over him for months. He hadn’t given her the chance to do it again since.
Peyton laid out his cards, thethwapof them hitting the table loud in the charged silence. “Four of a kind.”
Will whistled. He didn’t know much, but he did know that was an excellent hand.
“Very nice,” Sebastian said calmly. Too calmly, with zero inflection to his tone.
Peyton pushed his tongue against his cheek, making it bulge outward. They all knew he’d already lost. Peyton was unimpressed, but his cheeks were also flushed, and Will knew that look in his eyes. He was turned on. If Will palmed him, he’d be hard or on his way to getting there.
Sebastian flipped his hand around. “Straight flush.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“The cards are dirty liars,” Will remarked with mirth. “You are not straight.”
“No?” Sebastian asked, grinning.
“Not if the way you fucked me is any indication.”
Sebastian picked up a handful of Smarties and popped one in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “I guess there’s one way to figure things out.”
Will cut off mid-laugh when keys turned in the front door and it burst open, and Parker strode in, slamming the door shut behind himself. He stopped mid-stride, staring in shock at the four of them. It was obvious that he’d been crying: his eyes were puffy, cheeks blotchy and he’d been chewing on his lip.
Peyton was the first to react, on his feet in seconds and in front of his twin. “What’s wrong?” he asked, taking hold of his twin’s face and thumbing his tear-streaked cheeks. “What happened?”
Will was behind Peyton in seconds, his brows furrowing in concern.
Parker sniffed and moved out of Peyton’s embrace, using his sleeve to wipe his cheek. “Nothing,” he said, his voice a little nasally. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Who made you cry?” Peyton asked dangerously.
Quinn slid out of his seat, moving to stand behind Peyton and beside Will. “Did someone hurt you, Parker?” he asked.
Parker visibly swallowed and shook his head. “No. I promise. It was just—” His familiar gaze flitted to Peyton. “Just some stuff.”
“You want to talk about it?”
“Not… really.”
Will opened his mouth to say something, but Parker continued without prompting.
“It’s doomed, right?”
Will shared a glance with Peyton. “You might have to give us more context,” Will said.
“Would you like a Smartie?” Sebastian asked, pointing to the table.
Parker huffed out a laugh. “Would I like one of myownSmarties?”
“I was going to replace them,” Will said with zero remorse. As if it was the first time that he’d ever stolen Parker’s treats. One memorable morning, he’d had to take his whole team to get bags of treats and cordial and take them to Parker’s school because he’d eaten the supplies Parker had bought for an event. In Will’s defence, Parker hadn’t told him that; he’d just thought he’d been extra nice that week, and Parker had bought him a reward. They’d been roped into helping out while they were there, and all the parents had some nice visuals. “Sit down, I’ll get you some milk.”
He got the milk from the fridge and poured a glass while Quinn and Peyton shuffled Parker into a seat beside Sebastian, who pushed his “winnings” in front of Parker.
“I beat Peyton for these.”
Parker glanced at the cards on the table. “You… beat Peyton?” His face lit up. “Really? You’re not fucking with me?”
