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I groan. "Are you stalking me?"
"Always," Wilder grins as I stand.
"Well, stop. It's gross."
"You're gross," he snaps back.
I frown. "That the best you got tonight? Kind of weak for you."
"It's been a long day." He shrugs and motions to the pool tables. "Wanna play a round?"
"I didn't come here to hang out with you," I scoff.
"Do you know anyone else here?" Wilder turns and looks around the room.
"I know people," I lie. "I have friends."
"I thought I was your only friend," he flashes his dark eyebrows at me. "Or were you lying about that?"
He moves closer, his disgusting hazel eyes lively and warm. Ew. Did I just describe Wilder as warm? What is wrong with me?
"Fine," I give in. "I'll play. But I still hate you."
"The feeling is still mutual," he assures me.
We snag a table in the back next to a group of girls. I ignore their hushed whispers and aggravating giggles as I grab a pool stick.
"You remember how to play?" Wilder asks me, oblivious to the fan club swooning over him at the next table.
I don't really remember how to play, but I'm not telling him that. "You can go first."
Wilder walks behind me, his arm brushing against my side. "Ladies first."
"Ah," I raise an eyebrow and rest my hand on the top of the pool stick as he leans a hip against the table. "Then you should go first."
There's this weird tension bouncing between us as our eyes lock in a battle of wills. It's uncomfortable, and it makes my stomach flutter. Things with Cash were easy. There wasn't hard-to-read energy or heated banter. I didn't want to strangle him one minute, and then laugh at him the next. It was simple. Things with Wilder are complicated. They always have been.
Wilder sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. "You're obnoxious."
"You're the one who wanted to play," I remind him. "I was fine standing in the corner with my drink minding my own business."
He sighs and leans over the table, his focus on the triangular formation of balls in front of us. "I'll go first."
I tap my foot beside him. "Don't embarrass yourself."
Wilder tries to hide a smile. "Do you always have to be this obnoxious?"
I place a hand on my hip as he strikes the cue ball. "Always."
The balls scatter as Wilder stands, triumphant. Several disappear into the corner pocket. "You really should have gone first, Blondie. I'm about to annihilate you."
It doesn't take Wilder long before he's sunk all his balls into the corner pockets without so much as a scratch.
"Well," Wilder steals my Cherry Coke from me. "That was fun. Round two?"
I watch, annoyed, as he guzzles the rest of my bottle.
"You're buying me another," I inform him.
