Page 13 of Tangled

Mind your own business, sub-conscience. I have given myself permission to have fun tonight, and if that means straddling the man in front of me, then so be it.

“So tell me something about you, since we’re supposed to be getting to know each other,” I tease. “Like, maybe your name?”

“Well, I don’t know your name yet either,” he fires back.

“True, but you gave me a nickname. It wasn’t the most original one I’ve ever heard though.”

“It just seemed appropriate,” he says.

“So, what do I call you then?” I ask flirtatiously, the need to know more about him a sudden necessity I feel deep in my bones.

“How about you call me by a nickname too?”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “So, we’re not going to exchange real names?”

He nods. “Seems more fun this way.”

I smirk at him before taking a sip of my drink. “Okay then, what shall I call you?”

He looks away for a moment in contemplation before focusing back on me.

“Garrison,” he says, which completely catches me by surprise.

“Garrison?” I ask, trying to clarify that I heard him right.

“Yup. It’s what the guys called me from my time in the Army. It’s uh… it’s actually my last name.”

“That’s not a nickname then.”

He grins in a boyish way. “Yeah, you’re right, but it was the first thing I could think of.”

“An Army man, huh? I can see that,” I offer as I peruse his body again. The sight of him sitting casually in front of me is sending sharp pangs of desire between my legs the more I take in his entirety. You just don’t see men like him anymore. And the thought of him dressed in Army greens and combat boots stirs up a fantasy I didn’t realize I had.

“Yeah, I gave eight years, then got out,” he says before looking away. I feel like he’s done with the subject, so I let it go. I know little about that life, but I’ve heard countless stories about how serving affects the men and women once they’re home.

“So, Garrison. What brings you into the bar then tonight?”

“The same thing that brings me back each week… having a few beers to relax after a grueling week.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a tough week too. So what do you do that is so grueling?”

Before Mr. Mysterious can answer, a loud crash of glass booms through the bar. Both of us turn our heads in the direction of the scene, fixating on two servers who collided, their trays full of drinks smashing into pieces and leaving one hell of a mess.

“Wow, that sucks,” I say just as the man in front of me goes to stand.

“Care to play some pool?” He offers his hand to me, which I take a little too eagerly. The connection of our skin touching sends a flutter to my belly, the tingles I felt before from just talking to him are now traveling all over my body with a fury. He takes my hand and leads me to the corner of the bar where four pool tables are situated. One table seems to have been recently abandoned, so we place our drinks on the high-top table next to it as my mystery man begins to rack the balls.

“You’ve played before, right?” He asks while hunched over the table. I watch the muscles in his forearms flex while he moves the balls into the plastic triangle. I’ve never been one to admire forearms before, but on this guy, they’re quickly becoming one of my favorite features.

Little does this man know, but I was quite the pool shark back in college. Being a math person, I understand the geometry of the game. It’s all about the angles, but he doesn’t need to know that.

The last time I played pool was against Trevor, and I beat him so badly, I swear he was going to cry.

I shake my head, struggling to throw the thoughts of my ex out and focus and the perfect specimen of distraction in front of me. I’ve never been one to use one man to get over another, but hey, there’s a first time for everything, right?

“Yeah, I’ve played before, but it’s been a while.”

“Care to make it interesting?” He glances up at me, smiling mischievously.

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