“If it were up to me, you’d have the part,” he taunts. “If it were up to me.”

And his meaning isn’t lost. It’s not up to him. It’s up to me and whether I use that key.

I slide the switch, the blade unsheathing, and I watch him watch the knife, ready.

“You know those clapping games little girls play?” I ask him. “They seem silly and frivolous, but actually they teach motor coordination and dexterity.”

The girls at the table stiffen as Milo watches in amusement, safely shielded by Callum.

I hear the screen door behind me swing open and shut, bouncing against the doorframe a couple of times.

I hold up the knife and lay my hand down on the table. “But I always liked the boys’ game instead,” I tell him. “You ever play stabberscotch?”

A couple of shadows fall over me, and Trace’s body spray wafts through my nostrils.

“Thirty seconds.” I balance the tip of the knife on my palm and then flip it, catching it. “If I don’t cut myself, you take your fucking slugs and get out of here.” I look at Krisjen, the nice one. “And that means you too.”

She keeps her mouth shut, simply looking to Callum to see what he’s going to do.

“And Becks can stay,” I add. She’s the only one I really like.

But then Callum asks, “Why should I make a deal to stay when you know I don’t have to leave?”

“As if you’ll have to leave anyway, right?” I fire back. “I’m a loser. I’ll lose.”

He laughs, but it’s a short, nervous one, and he doesn’t meet my eyes.

I smirk. “Scared?”

His gaze flickers to my brothers behind me, who stay quiet to see how this will play out, and is caught between a rock and hard place. Lose and he has to leave. Or they’ll make him leave.

And he’s smart enough to know that I never play games, so I wouldn’t play one unless I knew I could win.

So he does the only thing he can. “Not at all,” he finally replies. “I’ll take the bet.”

Flattening my left hand on the table, I spread my fingers wide and dig the point of the blade into first position, on the outside of my thumb.

But just then, I feel something, and that perfume hits me before I even see her. Her hand slides underneath mine, and I still as Clay covers my back, her breath on my ear.

“Scared?” she whispers.

I almost shove her off, but fine. I forge ahead. “Start the timer,” I tell Krisjen.

She brings up the app on her phone, hits the blue button, and I start, Clay’s hand underneath mine, thinking her presence will make my little heart patter so badly I’ll screw up. I’ll take that bet.

One-two, one-three, one-four, one-five, one-six, one-six, one-five, one-four…

I move the knife back and forth, between my fingers, faster and faster, my brothers clapping behind me to help me keep time.

“Faster,” Callum orders.

I move faster.

One-two, one-three, one-four, one-five, one-six, one-six, one-five, one-four… Moving through Clay’s and my fingers and back again, the heat from her hand moving through mine and up my arm to my chest.

I dig faster and faster, and harder, but after a moment, all I feel is her eyes on my neck, and I swear she moves in closer, inhaling through her nose.

Smelling me.

And that’s when I recognize the other scent on her. Vodka.

“Don’t stop,” she pants.

My eyelids flutter as her heart pounds against my arm.

The boys clap. Callum, Milo, Becks, and Krisjen watch the knife.

And even though Clay and I aren’t alone, it feels like it. They don’t hear her words.

“I dread the anticipation of pain more than the pain, don’t you?” she says in a low voice. “Most people don’t know when it’s coming. It’s worse when you know it’s coming.”

She speaks so softly. It’s not like her. What is she doing?

“Especially when you know it’s there every day,” she tells me.

I blink long and hard, heat flooding my body as the adrenaline rushes, because if I take my eyes off what I’m doing, I’m going to get hurt, but shit looks blurry now. Goddammit.

The girl is tail. That’s it. She’s a gutter human being and good for nothing else.

Her eyes linger on me, and I watch the timer, dropping to ten seconds left. One-two, one-three, one-four, one-five, one-six, one-six, one-five, one-four…

Her warm breath hits my neck. “Your skin looks like it’s on fire,” she whispers, and I swear I can feel her tongue.

Fuck. I groan, my stomach shaking, because she says it like she’s in pain.

“Olivia,” she pleads.

And my clit throbs, my hand trembles, and the knife slips, slicing right into the side of my middle finger.

Shit! Pain shoots through my hand, I drop the knife, and pull away, gritting my teeth.

Goddammit, Clay.

Laughter erupts at the table, and I turn back, seeing her slide onto Callum’s lap, a self-satisfied smile on her stupid face.

I suck the blood off my finger, looking for any on hers, but it doesn’t look like she was cut at all.

“She does have that effect on me, too,” Callum says, pulling Clay back into his body by her throat and kissing her cheek.

I glare down at her. “You did that on purpose.”

She leans forward, out of his hold, but his hands remain on her, roaming her back like she’s his.

Clay plucks a fry out of the basket, Krisjen’s all smiles as she relishes her bestie’s suave skill with the dyke.

“So what do we get now that we won?” Clay asks me, eating the fry.

“You get to stay,” Trace replies behind me.

“We could stay anyway.”

I pick up my blade, sheathing it and sticking it into my pocket.

“You know,” Clay continues, “I will actually be sorry when my father levels this place. Just think…” She looks over her shoulder at Callum. “We’re sitting right about the ninth hole, right? You’ve seen the blueprints?”

He nods, and Dallas steps forward, but I hold up my arm, keeping him back.

“Such a waste of good key lime pie,” Milo offers.

“Well, the new community needs restaurants,” Clay tells her. “We’ll give Mariette a job.”

And then she pins me with a look, and no matter what we do, they know they’ll win. Not today, but eventually.

“A key lime pie!” Callum calls out to the server. “To go!”

They all start to get up, but I stop them. “Cancel that!” I tell Mariette. And I look at Clay. “Night Tide. You can cross the tracks.”

This isn’t her against me. It’s Saints versus Swamp. Let’s have some fun before everything is gone.

Clay hesitates. “The administration doesn’t allow that. We have to stay in St. Carmen.”

Night Tide is a senior tradition. A scavenger hunt around town. All night. There’s usually unsanctioned drinking and a secret scavenger hunt that is also not allowed by the administration.

I give her a loaded look. “We won’t tell.”

Callum listens close as Clay ponders, her friends letting her make the call.

“All of us,” she says.