Page 30 of Dear Roomie
“About time you got here,” she shouts over the music.
“We ran into a bit of trouble on the way here,” Nathan says and kisses Chelsea’s neck, drawing a peal of laughter from her glossed lips.
“Always bringing in the strays.” Karis shakes her head and turns her attention to Morgan. “Want to play pool?” she asks with a shark-toothed smile.
“Not particularly…”
She’s walking way before the words are out of his mouth. He shrugs his shoulders with a sigh and follows her.
“Oh, this is gonna be good.” Nathan chuckles. He leads Chelsea toward the tables in the back, and I follow with Evelyn on my heels.
“Why, is Morgan good at pool or something?”
Nathan throws his head back in a fit of full-bellied laughter. “Good joke.” He pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “You’ll see.”
I do see. He is fucking terrible.
He goes to make the break shot, and the cue ball spins off to the side without touching the racked balls. Karis cackles, her eyes shining with glee while Morgan’s roll at her antics, but there is a hint of a smile on his lips.
“Do you mind if I have a shot?” I reach out for a stick.
“Be my guest, Goldilocks.” She thrusts hers into my hand and crosses her arms over her chest as she squints. “Let’s see what you can do.”
I add chalk to the tip and line up my shot. The motion is second nature. When my dad wasn’t deployed, I would spend my summers on the base with him. He made a point of teaching me all the skills he deemed necessary for life, and pool made that cut. A sharp clattering rings out through the bar as the cue connects with the balls in the middle of the table, causing them to scatter, and one sinks into a pocket on the backside. I sink a second and then a third with ease.
Karis lets out a long whistle. “I’m impressed.”
I shrug off her compliment, and my attention darts over to Morgan. He’s watching me with unguarded awe, and his gaze stirs the butterflies in my stomach.
“Come here,” I tell him. He fidgets with his hair for a second before flashing one of his stupid smiles and following my command. “Line up your shot.” Like a good little soldier, he does what I ask, and I take a moment to assess his technique. “Here, like this.” I step up behind him and wrap my arms around him to adjust his angle.
The butterflies riot.
Thank God my face is hidden from him like this; my whole body flushes. He feels so much bigger between my arms—I can barely reach around his frame. It’s overwhelming.He’soverwhelming. I’m cocooned in his spiced-wood scent and the heat radiating from his body, and it’s intoxicating. For a moment, I forget what I’m doing. All that exists is Morgan Hall.
Fuck. Pool.
“Now shoot,” I instruct. The cue ball strikes its intended target, sending it careening across the green carpet. It doesn’t land in a pocket, but it’s an improvement.
“Like that,” I praise before jerking away from him. “I’m gonna go get a drink.” I’m halfway across the bar before he can respond. The distance doesn’t help; the ghost of his body still haunts mine.
“Can I get some whiskey?” I ask the scary bartender.
He’s one of the guys’ friends, but I’ve never actually spoken to him outside of ordering a drink. It’s for the best. The man is terrifying. He’s huge, and the permanent scowl he wears only makes him more uninviting. Mr. Scary Bartender only grunts in response but grabs a bottle from the shelf.
“And something for Morgan, if you know what he likes,” I add. He pours my drink and sticks a bottle of beer next to it.
“Thank you.” I pull out my wallet, but he stops me with a shake of his head.
“I don’t charge friends,” he says in a gruff monotone.
“I didn’t know we were.”
“You live with Morgan. Your friend is fucking mine.” He shrugs. “It’s close enough.”
“Well, I appreciate it.”
He nods and turns his attention to another patron.
