I chose to stay at this table.
There were other games going on around the casino — louder tables, bigger crowds, heavier bets — but this one felt different. The people seated there weren't tense or aggressive. They were relaxed, laughing between rolls like friends who had known each other for years.
It felt inviting.
"Since we have a new player, it calls for a new game," Jonathan said excitedly.
His enthusiasm made everyone smile.
"Okay," I said, stepping forward. "I'll be the first shooter."
The dealer nodded and handed me the dice.
They felt heavier than I expected.
Five pairs of eyes watched me — four men and one woman — all seated comfortably around the green felt table.
Before rolling, I glanced at them.
"I bet it's 11," Quinn said confidently.
"Ten," Michael added quietly.
"For me, it's eight," Derrick said with a playful grin.
"Woah! Okay" I laughed.
We turned to Abigail.
"I believe it will be a seven," she said calmly, her accent soft but certain.
Jonathan tapped the table lightly.
"I think it's nine."
Five predictions.
Different numbers.
All eyes shifted back to me.
"Go on," Jonathan said. "Roll."
I inhaled slowly.
This was the come-out roll — the first roll of the round.
If I rolled 7 or 11, we win instantly.
If I rolled 2, 3, or 12, we lose instantly.
Any other number would become the point.
I didn't need to overthink it.
I tossed the dice across the table and they bounced.
One struck the edge and flipped.
The other spun wildly before sliding toward the center.
The table went silent.
The first die slowed.
The second followed.
Everyone leaned forward slightly.
"Eight," Derrick chanted with his eyes closed.
The first die showed a number.
The second settled beside it.
Eight.
The room reacted instantly.
"Point is eight!" Jonathan announced.
I smiled.
And with that the game had officially begun.
Now we had to roll eight again let's see how this goes.
The tension changed.
The friendly laughter shifted into focus.
Chips were adjusted.
Bets were repositioned.
"Same shooter?" Quinn asked.
"Same shooter," I replied confidently.
I picked up the dice again.
But before I rolled —
I felt something.
A stare.
Heavy.
Intentional.
Not from my table.
I slowly turned my head, scanning the crowd around us.
The casino was still alive — lights flashing, people cheering, machines ringing.
And then I saw him.
The man from earlier.
The one who had smirked at me outside the casino.
He wasn't standing close this time.
He wasn't moving.
He was watching.
Perfectly still.
His eyes were locked onto me like he had been studying my every movement.
My fingers tightened slightly around the dice.
"Something wrong?" Abigail asked quietly.
I forced my attention back to the table.
"No," I said softly.
I tossed the dice again.
They rolled.
Spinning.
Bouncing.
Everyone leaned in.
The dice skidded across the surface.
One hit the edge.
The other bounced off a stack of chips.
It rolled —
And stopped.
"Seven!" Jonathan shouted suddenly.
My stomach dropped.
Seven.
That meant the round ended.
It was supposed to be eight.
We lost.
A soft groan escaped from around the table.
"Unlucky," Derrick said, shaking his head.
I stared at the dice for a second longer.
Then I reached for them.
But before I could speak —
"Don't tell me one minute of taking a call caused me to get replaced?"
The voice came from behind me.
Calm.
Confident.
Smiling.
I turned.
It was him.
He walked toward the table slowly, hands in his pockets like he owned the space.
"Don't worry," Jonathan replied quickly. "You'd be lucky if she was a replacement. She's an excellent player."
The man smirked.
"You don't say. I watched her after the call."
He stopped beside the table.
His gaze moved from my face to the dice.
Then back to me.
Something about the way he observed made my skin feel warm — not uncomfortable, but aware.
"The name's Daven," he said, extending his hand.
I reached for it—then stopped.
The tattoo on his wrist caught my attention.
A wildflower.
My breath hitched.
Not because it was beautiful—
but because it had a striking resemblance to a symbol I had done a research on years back.