The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,553

to blow on his dice, too, giving him a good peek at her cleavage. “Good luck.”

The players move their chips onto the appropriate pass line bets, which, from my crash course in craps from Garrett, mean that they are betting that their roll will win. Darrel-Derrick shakes the dice in his sweaty palms. He lets them go, and they tumble onto the table. Laurel holds her breath. Sam moves even closer to me. Every head around the table swivels to watch as they land.

The croupier gives a swift nod. “Snake eyes!”

I make a fake-sympathetic face at my sister. “Aw, better luck next time.” That won’t be too hard to beat. I glance at Sam. “Go for lucky seven,” I say, winking.

He gives my butt a quick squeeze. Ugh. I can’t wait until this challenge is over. “You’re my lucky charm. Let’s do it.”

He puts all his chips on seven. Laurel smirks at me, knowing this is a huge risk. But here, with this crowd, it’s go big or go home.

The dealer nods, tugging at his clip-on bow tie. Sam shakes the dice vigorously, then lets them go. As they fall to the table, he puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him. We’re so close his cheek stubble scratches the side of my face. Garrett shifts again, and his hand curls into a fist.

The dice settle. The dealer examines them. I hold my breath, my heart pounding hard.

“Big red!” he pronounces. The dice read four and three—seven.

A roar of excitement explodes around the table. I don’t have time to savor the crushed expression on Laurel’s face, though, because suddenly Sam is lifting me off my feet, twirling me in an exuberant circle.

“We did it!” he exclaims, his breath hot on my cheek. He tightens his grip on me, and his hand slides farther and farther down my back until it’s brushing against my butt.

No, thank you. “Um . . .” I press back from his chest, trying to get away. “A leetle too close, my friend.”

Sam drops me, but he looks annoyed. “Honey, I let you blow on my dice. The least you can give me is a little kiss.”

I try to laugh him off, but suddenly Sam is lunging for me, his lips puckered. A moment later, Garrett comes into view, his face red and splotchy, and yanks Sam away.

“Get your hands off of her,” he growls. He winds his arm back like he’s going to throw a punch.

“Whoa.” Sam steps away. “Easy, dude. What are you, like, twelve?”

Garrett steps forward, his nostrils flaring. “I’m older than you think, dude.”

Just as he’s about to throw himself at Sam, a meaty hand clamps down on each of their shoulders, and a beefy security guard looms over us. “Neither of you wants to do this in here,” he says curtly. “You’re both out.”

“Are you kidding me?” Garrett smashes his glass of club soda to the ground, sending a spray of ice across the floor. People pause from their slot-machine trances. Players at a nearby blackjack table whirl around. Sam gathers his chips from the table and steps away, staring at Garrett like he’s insane. I look at Garrett, too, my heart pounding quickly. With his flared nostrils and wild blue eyes, he does look a little unhinged.

The security guard grabs Garrett by the arm. “I’m dead serious. If you don’t want to get arrested for disorderly conduct, you’ll leave. Now.”

Garrett’s jaw tightens and he clenches his fists at his side, almost like he’s going to deck the security guy, too. Then he exhales and succumbs. “Fine,” he mutters. “Sutton, I’ll text you.”

Tucker and Marcus follow Garrett out of the casino. Sam and Darrel-Derrick wander off in the opposite direction. Laurel’s eyes are wide. Madeline’s blink rapidly. Charlotte seems embarrassed, like she’s seen this before. Her words swirl back to me: He’s a ball of moods since that stuff with Louisa.

But whatever. It’s nice that Garrett stood up for me. Would Thayer have? Probably not. All he does is run away.

I saunter toward the bar, suddenly in desperate need of a drink. “Put that in the Google doc, girls,” I trill. “It looks like round two goes to me.”

“She’s right,” Mads says, following behind. “Round two of the Sudden Death Tournament definitely goes to Sutton.”

“I think she should get points deducted for all of the drama,” Laurel says primly. “That was embarrassing.”

“I think I should get points added,” I snap. “When was the last time a guy defended any of