Losing Bet

Selene

Carter folds, but doesn't look all too sad about it. The sly smirk on his face gives away how much he's enjoying this. Of course the athlete's excited to show off his six pack in front of a bunch of girls. Whatever. It's not like i care about Carters stupid perfect abs.

Not at all.

Not even a little bit.

I keep my poker face intact. Stay focused Selene. I'd rather eat my fist then have to show Carter my koala underwear. There's still 4 other people in the game. Georgia, Darrell, Monty, and Simon. Georgia lacks any sort of poker face, she might as well be telling me her cards. She's next to fold but with her lack of both shirt and shorts now, she's down to just her undies.

Darrell's next but the guys drunk off his ass, there's no way he's focused enough to have a good hand. Monty on the other hand is a little more difficult to read. He doesn't have a facial expression but his body language may as well be streaming, "I HAVE NOTHING". He doesn't fold however when it's his turn next, interesting. He's trying to bluff.

Lastly, Simon Hartshorn. Where Monty was difficult, Simon is impossible. I can't find any facial tells, no body language. There's no pattern in his behavior over the last couple rounds. So far he hasn't lost. Simon doesn't fold, and next is my turn. I up the bet, "I'm betting everything i have on." Looking Monty in the eyes I say, "All of it."

Monty Blushes and Folds, leaving only me and Simon. Simon's unconcerned mask is really really good but there's no way he can beat my straight flush. The odds of him having a better hand is 1 in 10 at best. Simon's gonna fold. There's no way he won't. And even if he doesn't, my cards are too good to be beaten.

"I match that bet." My plan wor-oh. Oh no. This isn't supposed to happen. It's fine Selene. My cards. Yes, this is fine.

Dealer tells us to reveal our cards.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6 seconds to realize.

7 to breathe.

8 to accept the fact that I had lost. I had bet it all. And lost. 

I look up at Simon. Oh no.