Page 27 of Fun Together
I watch him bend down to line up his shot, forearms flexing as he glides the stick over his hand. With a crack, the balls scatter on the table. “Should we play nine ball?”
“Sure. Sounds good.”
I bend down to line up my shot, and feel him move to stand behind me.
“May I?” he asks.
I nod and feel the heat of his chest at my back. He places a hand over mine so that he can guide me where I need to aim. My hair stirs against my cheek as he asks, “Is this how they do it in the movies?”
“Yep, that’s . . . exactly it,” I squeak.
“What usually happens next?” I can hear the smile in his voice without even having to look.
I can’t help but look anyway, and sure enough I see a grin that I know means he’s having fun with this. I knew he’d be a good partner in crime for this faux-flirting game.
“I think I should hit the ball now. With your guidance.”
“Like this?” He guides my hand back and forth a few times to line up the shot before giving a final, forceful jab that knocks the number one ball into the pocket.
He doesn’t move away, though. “Nice shot. Now what?”
I swallow. “Since I made the shot, I get to shoot again.”
I feel his chuckle against my back. “I know that. I mean, what’s next for the flirting?”
“Oh, um, I think you’re supposed to whisper something romantic in my ear.”
He leans further in, so close I can feel his lips move against my cheek. “You smell so good, it’s distracting.”
I don’t move a muscle. “What do I smell like?”
He guides my hand for another shot, but it doesn’t go in. Standing up straight, he says, “Like warm blueberry Pop-Tarts straight from the toaster.”
I snort and bat him away. “Blueberry Pop-Tarts? You can do better than that.”
He steps over to take his own shot. I’m momentarily mesmerized by the strong, yet gentle, motion of his arms. The stick strikes the cue ball, sending the two ball into the pocket.“What? I’m flirting.”
“No one likes blueberry Pop-Tarts, though. Strawberry? Acceptable. S’mores? God-tier.”
He misses his next shot. “Well, I like blueberry.”
“Fine. I’ll accept blueberry.” I take my turn again, and the act of play returns so naturally, I make four more shots.
While I try to determine my next move, he moves next to me, propping one arm on the table. “I think something is missing from our little charade.”
“What is that?” I feel his eyes on me, watching me continue to play.
“It’s just that I’m doing a lot of the heavy lifting here. You’re not pretending to flirt with me, too.”
I move to stand closer to him. “How do you like to be flirted with?”
He pauses, as if thinking of the perfect response. “You could compliment me. That’s always nice.”
I roll my eyes. “Fishing for compliments?”
He grins. “Always.”
My eyes glide up and down his arm, so close to mine that I can feel his body heat against my own skin. “I like your tattoos. How long have you had them?”
