“Well everything is real in the moment, isn’t
it, even when it’s a game? You just have to know you’re playing.”
“You’re not just talking about cards and
cars, are you.”
Derian’s expression flattened. “No.”
Emily frowned. “I’m quite certain I would be
terrible at pretending other than what I felt.”
“I think you would be too. Don’t gamble.”
“Actually, I’m very good at cards. I’ve been
told I have an excellent poker face.”
“Do you bluff?” Derian asked.
“Yes, insomuch as I am quite capable of
keeping my thoughts and feelings to myself.”
“I suppose that could be considered a bluff.”
Derian tapped a finger to Emily’s hand. “We’ll have to play sometime.”
Emily flushed. “I don’t think so. I’m afraid
you’re far too experienced for me.”
“I don’t know,” Derian said musingly. “I
might’ve met my match. But I was thinking more of playing together, not against
each other.”
Emily sensed the conversation veering once
again away from the topic and into some realm she couldn’t quite comprehend.
She was never entirely sure they were talking about what they were actually
saying. Subtext was everything in fiction, but she preferred plainer language
in real life. “You would not find me a very good partner. I’m afraid I don’t
know any of the rules.”
“Oh, not to worry. I’d be happy to
demonstrate.”
“I doubt we’ll ever have the chance,” Emily
said a little frostily. Derian’s grin was infuriatingly arrogant and just a
little too compelling to contemplate.
“So what do you do to occupy your time,”
Derian asked, seemingly unfazed by Emily’s tone, “if you don’t enjoy games?”
“I read, of course,” Emily said.
“No, no, that’s work.”
“Not at all. Well, of course it is sometimes,
but even though it’s work, it’s still one of my greatest pleasures. Don’t you
feel that way about your work?”
“I don’t work. You must’ve read that. I spend
my time searching for new ways to avoid it.”
“Ah,” Emily said, not believing her for a
minute. Derian might not have a conventional job, but nothing about her
suggested she was lazy. If anything, she vibrated with dynamism and restless
vitality. “Isn’t winning a job? I mean, coming in first or beating the odds
requires effort and thought and probably stamina. Certainly, a professional
gambler works.”
“Very true,” Derian said. “But I’m not a
professional gambler in the sense that I make my living doing it. I like to
win, no doubt about that, but if I lose, no one suffers for it.”
“Semantics.”
“I won’t argue language with a literary
type,” Derian said lightly. “What besides books?”
Emily noticed how deftly Derian diverted the
conversation away from herself, but she appreciated the desire for privacy,
valuing it herself. “Films—”