Kevin tried not to look as startled as he felt by Myron's suggestion. He stared at the chip between his fingers, then back up at his face. Chiselled jaw. Sparkling blue eyes and a curled grin. Despite himself, Kevin found himself blushing a little, heat curling up from the back of his neck to wrap around the tops of his cheeks.
"Seven?" he said after a beat. It was a safe, easy, lucky number.
He grinned, and took another sip of his mixer, looking back at the table. "I don't owe you anything if you lose," he remarked, catching the eye of the dealer, who was perfectly prim, and only blandly handsome.