Page 35 of The Stud

Small snickers accompany him during his step backwards. “That’s alright. Bullshit technicalities are truthfully the only way you were ever going to get a turn.”

There’s no stopping my bottom lip from dropping to the ground. “Fuck you.You’re notthatgood.”

“Perhaps not; however,” he arrogantly leans forwards, licks his lips, and cockily smirks, “my mittsarethat silky.”

“Thank you,” sarcastically springs free alongside exaggerated movements to guarantee I hit him with the edge of my cue. “I was starting to worry my gag reflex was broken.”

Tanner waits until I’ve hunched over to tap the number one ball to smugly state, “Your playing position most certainly is.”

I don’t hesitate to toss him an incredulous look over my shoulder. “Excuse. You.”

“You aren’t going to make shite with that.” A tiny chin kick is given. “Just bank and bomb.”

“What do you fucking know?”

“A lot.” Glaring at his growing grin can’t be stopped. “Perhaps you’d like to rewatch the footage you took of me where Iinformed youthat this is one way, I keep my hockey skills so sharp.”

“Nah,” I good-naturedly brush off, “listening to you ramble once is enough.”

“Talk.”

“Babble.”

He warmly laughs, shakes his head, and offers, “I can show you a better stance if you like.”

An audible dry heaving sound is followed by my own headshake. “Tell me that line doesn’tactuallywork on broadskies.”

“It does,” Tanner retorts without reluctance, “however,I genuinely wouldn’t mind showing you a better position simply for the sake of saving you some embarrassment.”

Okay.

Fine.

Poolisn’texactly my thing.

But that isn’t exactly my fault!

Pool halls tend to be obnoxious and crowded and loud, and while I don’t mind loud at times – see hockey – for the sakeof my good ear I do try tolimitwhat I expose it to just like we did when I was a kid.

And wearing earplugs to the games is pretty normal for those with sensitive ears.

Unlike sporting one to a bar.

Or…wherever it is people play this damn game.

“You can show me…” I cautiously cave, “but I swear toThe Great One, if I eventhinkyou’re trying to score, there will be a high-sticking incident that I won’t be paying the standard league fine for.”

“Understood,” he chuckles during the abandoning of his own cue near a barstool. “I’ll even announce my movements play by play as to not alarm you as to what is coming.”

“Acceptable.”

Tanner sweetly beams and open palm motions to the table. “Please bend over.”

“Please get bent.”

Post letting more laughs reverberate around the room, he gingerly proclaims, “I am going to stand behind you and adjust your hips.” Snark slips to the end of my tongue yet is savagely swallowed the second his warm palms firmly grasp the territory. “We are going to pull you slightly back.” And he does. “We want to create a bit of space between you and the table for mobility.”

I think I need air for that.

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