Page 14 of On the Line

Heading back into the main bar area, my path is immediately blocked by a pool cue as soon as I near the pool table. I look up to find Ozzy smirking at me.

“Have you ever played pool, princess?”

I place my hands on my hips and glare at him. Still, a small grin peaks through my hard expression. “At this rate, I’m starting to think you don’t actually remember my name.”

Laughing, he moves the cue out of my way. “Oh James,” he says slowly while rubbing chalk on the tip of the cue. “How could I ever forget?” he says with mock sincerity.

Hearing my real name out of his mouth feels strangely sexual and I regret it instantly.

It dawns on me that no one at Orso knows about Zachary.

Ozzy certainly doesn’t.

I should tell him. But now doesn’t feel like the right moment.

Grabbing a cue from the wall, I change the subject. “To answer your question: Yes, Idoknow how to play pool.” I straighten my shoulders. “Actually, I’m great at it, salad boy.”

Perking up, his eyes sparkle while he rounds the corner of the pool table. “Say that again, I liked it.”

I laugh nervously, even though warmth spikes in my stomach. “Oh, shut up.”

He chuckles darkly, challenging me with his gaze while racking the balls. “So princess is good at pool?”

I scoff, annoyed by the small dig but reply light-heartedly. “You barely know my name, what makes you think you know anything about me?”

His lips curl up, giving me a long once-over as he nonchalantly leans on his cue. “There’s just an air to you, it’s how you carry yourself—I can practically smell the trust fund on you.”

My throat tightens, feeling like I’ve been caught in a lie. Something about people at Orso knowing I come from money—not that I have any now—makes me uneasy. I keep my expression amused. “I don’t know what to tell you.” I give him a little unassuming shrug. “You done stalling?” I say, nodding to the pool table.

He stays silent as if studying me, then finally says, “Care to make it a little more interesting?”

I raise one eyebrow. “Like a bet?”

His laugh is goading. “Exactly like a bet, Jimbo.”

Hand on hip, I give him a cocksure look. “What kind of bet?”

“Why? Afraid you’re going to lose?” His smile is wideand toothy, and I can tell he’s playing with me but something about him doesn’t make it feel mocking.

“I said I was great, didn’t I?”

“Well then, it shouldn’t matter.” He winks. “But I promise it’ll be fun.”

Feeling like I’ve entered dangerous territory, I push the uneasy feeling down and steel my spine. I’m allowed to have a bit of fun for once.

“Sure,” I say, flashing a confident smile. “You can break.”

He chuckles. “That confident, huh?”

I shrug a shoulder, leaning onto my pool cue and crossing one foot over the other but say nothing. He smirks, looking me up and down, his tongue running over his teeth while he leans over the pool table.

My cheeks heat with the weight of his look. Suddenly paranoid, as if I’m doing something wrong and sinful, I look around half-expecting to find one of Zachary’s friends staring back at me. Or god forbid, Zachary himself. Although, knowing his taste, he wouldn’t be caught dead here. Hell, I would’ve thought the same about myself only a few months ago.

After Ozzy breaks, he misses. I stifle a laugh, our expressions full of competitive levity as I walk around him to get my ball. I manage to sink two before the third ricochets. When it’s Ozzy's turn to play again, his attention seems more on me than the actual game. I play dumb, continuing to treat this as a friendly game when deep down I know there’s nothingfriendlyabout it.

Getting into the rhythm, we take turns shooting, throwing lighthearted threats at each other hoping the other one misses. We both only have a couple of balls left when Ozzy pauses the game for a smoke break.

“Coming?” he mumbles around his unlit cigarette.

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