Page 28 of Savannah Royals
Matthew misses his next shot. I sink mine.
I don’t have a question prepared, but I trace my eyes over the blond scruff on his face again. He didn’t have that when we met last week.
“When did you last bathe?”
“What?” He bursts out laughing. “What kind of a question is that?”
“Andshave,” I add, revealing my real interest. I mime rubbing a hand on my chin. “You’re all…scruffy.”
“If you must know, I haven’t bathed since yesterday morning, some thirty-six hours ago. I worked yesterday, stayed on overnight call at thehospital, then worked another full shift today. I came straight here after getting off.”
“You worked thirty-six hours at the hospital, then camehere?” My jaw drops. “Why?”
“That’s a new question, I believe.” He puts his hands on the table, challenging.
I bend over and take the shot. When another stripe bites the dust, I rise, triumphant. “Why did you work thirty-six hours straight and come here, of all places?”
“Because I wanted to see you again,” he answers, shrugging. “I wanted to see if you’re as good as I remember.”
“And?” My palms are sweating slightly. I adjust my grip on the pool stick.
“And you haven’t disappointed me,” he admits with a chuckle.
After that disclosure, I miss my next shot, but Matthew proceeds to sink two more. First, he asks me what my favorite color is.
“Today? Green.” I pluck at my emerald pantsuit to illustrate.
While I’m waiting for his sixth question, he buffs the tip of the cue with chalk.
“Any day now,” I remind him, but he continues to take his time, fingers moving around and around. He examines the head closely when he’s done, blowing lightly to scatter the excess.
“Do you have a fella? Someone courting you?” His cheeks tinge adorably pink after he asks.
I bite my lip, Paul looming once more. I’m not wholly sure what he would want me to say. On the one hand, I absolutely know. On the other…Paul trusts me to make the right decisions for myself and for the Wolfpack. To do what I need to do so we build the strongest circle of contacts. Heencourages it.
“Perhaps.” I stick partially to the truth. “There’s a fella back home…it’s rather complicated.” Matthew listens patiently as I waffle. “You know, I mean…we’ve known each other forever. And just…well, you know how it is.”
“Not quite.” He smiles. “Is it a yes or a no?”
“I’ve made him no promises, nor him to me.” Yes, this feels true; this I can say. “So I suppose…no? No, I’m not being ‘courted.’ It’s not like that.”
I swallow reflexively. He’s standing very close, and I’m simply fascinated by his stubble. It’s different from Paul’s and Abe’s. Theirs grows dark and full, thick sandpaper. Matthew’s blond is intriguing, and I really want to touch it. For investigative purposes, of course.
Matthew looks closely at me, and I wonder, for the briefest flicker, if he’s going to kiss me. The thought makes me terribly anxious. I hold my breath, waiting, but he steps back.
“That,” he says, pointing at me, “is the most nervous I’ve ever seen you. And the fastest I’ve ever heard you talk.”
Unnerved, I walk around the table to put some distance between us. “It’s still your shot,” I remind him. The table is quite lopsided with his one remaining ball and my five.
The way the field is aligned, he can attempt an angled chip into one of the side pockets. But it’s a steep angle. His eyes are focused, and he exhales gently as he shoots.
“This is absolute malarkey,” I announce after the ball rolls into the pocket.
He smiles and positions himself to take a chip at the eight ball.
“What, no question for that one? You don’t want to know what I plan to name my firstborn son? Or what I do at night during the full moon?”
“I can’t think of one right now, so I’m banking it for later.”
