The-Lucky-List-Rachael-Lippincott

It’s her eyes, though, that startle me the most. Long eyelashes giving way to a warm, almost liquid
honey brown. Ten years ago they were hidden behind a pair of glasses bier than the state of Texas.
Now they’re on full display.
And I’m not the only one noticing. Literally everyone is looking at our table right now. So much for
flying under the radar.
“I have your card,” I blurt out, once I realize I haven’t actually said anything back to her. Her eyes
swing down to look at the two cards in front of me, and I slide hers over, careful not to send the chips
scattering everywhere.
Could it be any more obvious I’ve been a social pariah for the past three weeks?
“anks,” Blake says, smiling at me, the gap in her teeth the only constant between the girl sitting in
front of me and the girl that convinced me setting o sparklers indoors would scare Santa just enough
to get us both ponies.
“You’re one away from a bingo in two places,” I add, like that’s not completely obvious.
I hear Donna call out a number, but it’s nothing more than a hum in my le ear, my fingers
wrapping instinctively around the quarter in my pocket.
“Hey! Lucky you.” Blake’s eyes widen in excitement, and she holds up a red chip, reaching over to
carefully slide it onto my board. “You just beat me to it.”
Bingo.