Page 9 of Destined Predator
“Nice.” Casey tucked a lock of hair behind his left ear and prepared to place the ball to the left of the middle man in his five-bar.
“Oh?” Greg stopped spinning his handles and pointed to the hole in the side of the table. “Don’t you have to drop the ball through there to start?”
Casey hid a smirk—Greg had just revealed how long it’d been since he’d last played. “The rule changed,” he explained, gripping his handles. “Set?”
“Set,” Dan echoed.
“Ready,” Rhett said, his eyes on the game. “Greg?”
“Er, yeah?”
Casey tapped the ball three times between two of his five-bar men then pulled it across to the outside man and kicked it through into a wall pass, trapping it between his outside three-player and the wall. A simple move, to gauge his opponents’ skill and speed. An equally simple push kick from there to between his middle and inside three-player, and he’d used his middle man to kick the ball into the goal, giving the game its first score, and them their first goal.
Dan hollered.
“One,” Casey said, his eyes on Rhett. Rhett’s grip tightened on his handles.
“Gives us the serve, though,” he answered, calling “Ready?” and tapping the ball away almost before they’d answered. He passed to Greg.
“Hey, the time limit’s not changed,” Casey said, when Dan hesitated. “Still only ten seconds to shoot or pass.”
Casey scored the second goal too, this time with a bank shot, kicking the ball hard enough at the wall to make it bounce off and into the goal.
“Sorry!” cried Greg. “I thought he was doing the same move, going to trap the ball there. I’ll know for next time.”
He didn’t—not enough to stop Casey pulling the ball across the table and shooting for goal using the same player.
“You play a lot,” Rhett commented, setting the ball in the circle.
“Oh, I’m an experienced player,” Casey agreed. “Know what I’m doing. Got a lot of technique.”
“Yeah?” Rhett tic-taced the ball between two of his five-bar players then tapped it forward to his three bar to pass it from one to another there too, his control solid. He shot at goal—
—only for Casey to grab the defensive rod from Dan and catch the ball on the back of the two-bar, flip the foosball in the air toward the opposite goal…and score.
“Woah!” Greg threw up his hands. “I’ve never seen such quick reflexes. It’s like you made your move at the same time Rhett did.”
“Like he knew what I was gonna do,” Rhett said, lifting his head to glare at Casey.
Casey stared back for long seconds, noting the tiniest of green flecks in Rhett’s hazel eyes…and the light of challenge in them. “What, you think I read your mind?” he drawled. “Nope. If I did, what would I see there?”
“Me doing this,” Rhett answered, calling “Set?” and not waiting for an anyone to answer before he launched into an attack, keeping one of his men in front of the ball at all times, making Casey—and Dan—adapt their defensive play until it became random moves. He scored.
“About time,” Casey said. “Feels good to get started, huh?” He thought he’d got the measure of Rhett’s style and went on the attack, within a minute flustering Greg in goal with a snake shot.
“Sorry!” Greg apologized again after the ball shot past him.
“Not your fault,” Rhett assured him, his eyes on Casey.
They started again, the play fast and Dan’s hollers loud.
“Yes!” Greg started to shout when Rhett arieled the ball the length of the table, shooting at the blue goal—prematurely. Casey caught the foosball on an almost horizontally oriented man, then flipped it through the air over the rods toward the opposite goal…and in.
“Looks like you won. Congratulations, blues.” Rhett lined his rods up carefully.
“Yeah, well done.” Greg gave a clap. “Experience counts.”
Casey cocked his head. “I got some tips I’m happy to show you.” Once again, he spoke only to Rhett. “Help you with rod andball control.” He didn’t think he was imagining Rhett shifting a little and glancing down…at Casey’s crotch.
