Page 104 of One Last Encore

Beck glanced at her, and for once, there was no teasing in his expression. Just something quiet. "I wasn’t, until I saw your face when we walked in."

She looked away, but not before he caught the flicker of something in her eyes. Nostalgia, maybe. Or something close to longing.

They slid into a small table near the stage, the chairs creaking softly beneath them. The glow from the bar cast a warm, reddish hue over everything, flickering off polished wood and half-full glasses. Beck tapped his fingers against the table, finding the rhythm of the music like it lived under his skin.

"Remember when you said this place felt like an alternate universe?" he asked suddenly, his voice a gentle thread beneath the music.

"I was drunk," she said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. Tipsy on wine and him.

He shook his head, a soft grin ghosting across his mouth. "You said it before your second drink."

She laughed quietly. "You actually remember that?"

"I remember everything about that night," he said, gaze steady. "You ordered way too much wine. I shamelessly cheated at pool. And you… you looked free. Like you could finally breathe."

Her breath caught, just for a moment. Then she looked at him, her expression softer now, the space between them quietly dissolving.

"You were the first person who made me feel like that," she said, voice low, the words catching on the edge of a breath. "Like I could let go of everything. Like I didn’t have to hold it all together."

He was theonlyone who made her feel like that.

He didn’t respond right away. Just looked at her the way he always had, like she was both the mystery and the answer, all in one breath.

When the set ended, Beck reached for her hand, his fingers warm against hers as he led her toward the back of the club. Her brow arched when they stopped at a pool table, a knowing smirk already tugging at her lips.

"Really?" she drawled.

"Rematch," he said, plucking a cue stick from the rack and chalking it.

She grabbed the stick from his hand. "Hmm, yeah well, you did shamelessly cheat last time."

"Ididsay I cheated, but I didn’t actually break any rules. Just played a little dirty."

"Youbitmy ear."

"Semantics," he shrugged, grinning.

She ignored him as she rolled up her sleeves and leaned over the table, eyes narrowing at the rack of balls.

"Don’t choke this time," he said, mock sincerity dripping from every word like maple syrup.

"Don’t blink," she replied, deadpan, and struck. The cue cracked loud and clean, balls scattering across the table. One clicked neatly into the corner pocket.

His eyebrows lifted. "Alright, hotshot."

She circled the table like a lioness on a victory lap. "You’re awfully confident for someone about to get publicly humbled."

Rolling her shoulders, she lined up her next shot. "Let’s see how you play when I’m actually paying attention this time."

Beck leaned in, smug as ever. "Don’t let me distract you, then."

"Never," she shot back. But the slight blush creeping up her neck said otherwise. Beck’s low, knowing laugh rumbled in response, a sound that sent heat curling in her stomach.

She focused on the game, refusing to let him get under her skin. Beck was relentless. Throwing flirty quips, shooting her annoyingly attractive smirks, flexing his forearms because he knew it made her weak. He was absolutely aware of the effect he had on her, and he used it like a weapon.

But she held her ground, eyes locked on the table, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

"Corner pocket," she said, voice steady, and then, with one smooth, flawless shot, the eight ball dropped effortlessly into the pocket.

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