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“What the fuck?” the rowdy fan yells “My grandma could have made that shot!”

I push off the wall I’ commentary Fro injury that happened o This is also the first tiah—obviously

I’h reat week at the tables—I’ve hts are always the busiest, and it takes et a seat at a table on this Friday night

A couple hours later, I’ at the size of my stacks

“How’d you get so lucky?” she asks, grinning and shaking her head “Do you play often?”

I shrug “When I get a chance”

Between hands, I sneak a peek at ame is al a sporting event henon them This is the first time I’ve actually known, or even met, a professional athlete

I folddistracted I know froht Wanting to prove hiods just do him a solid?

Most of the faces at the table change over the course of the next couple of hours, butat the sas, so it’s ti my chips, I look up and see Maverick on the other side of the room

My heart skips several beats He’s dressed in a dark suit, hands in his pockets, dark hair neatly coht down to his sullen expression And he’s looking right at me

I get up fro if I e that I’d be playing here tonight, but he didn’t say anything about co by

“Hey,” I say, holding on to my chips as I approach him

“Hey”

“Rough night” I don’t phrase it as a question, because obviously, it was