He studied me, then nodded, shelving it. Which meant he’d be watching.
Chapter 16
Ride The Current
Whether things were moving fast or not, I was determined to ride the parts of it I liked. So when Quentin asked me to join him at The Green Room, I saidhell yeah. That was my spot more than it was his, and no way I was staying home sulking while he lit up the felt.
It turned out to be exactly the vibe I needed. Balls cracked and kissed. Music low enough to let the tables talk.
Quentin leaned against the bar, whiskey neat, watchinga match. His body was turned toward the room, but his attention—always—was tuned to me. Even when he looked away, I could feel him holding my frequency.
“You hear about the nine-ball tournament next month?” Uncle Leon’s voice carried across the clack of balls, pitched just loud enough to catch ears.
Quentin’s mouth crooked. “Always hear about it, Unc. You playing?”
Leon snorted. “My knees retired before my cue did. Pot’s looking nice, though.” His eyes cut to me and stayed a beat too long—a test I recognized.
I tilted my glass, watched the ice clink. “Nine-ball, huh?”
Quentin looked back, curiosity sparking behind those black frames. “You interested?”
The question landed heavier than it sounded. I’d been asked to team up a hundred times. Always said no. Pool was mine—my angles, my rhythm, my quiet. Doubles is a different beast. It means sharing the table. Leaving shape for someone else. Trusting them to see what you see—or at least to hear you when you call it.
I never trusted anyone that far. Not at a table. Not in life.
But with Quentin? The yes pressed at my lips like a secret wanting out.
“Depends,” I said, leaning close so the answer brushed his neck. “You planning to play?”
“Thinking about it.” His smile went slow, dangerous. “But I’d need the right partner.”
I felt Uncle Leon watching. He masked it with a rag,but I caught the flicker of surprise. He knew my rules. He helped write them.
“You sure you can handle me, Hale?” I cocked a hip, cue resting easy against my thigh. “This ain’t you writing equations and expecting me to copy them. I don’t follow instructions just ’cause you put ’em on a board.”
His laugh rumbled low, dark. It did terrible, wonderful things to me and—correction—hispussy.
“That’s what I like about you, Rayna. You don’t follow—you set the shot.” His gaze dragged over me, deliberate, unhurried. My body clenched on reflex. “I’d still pick you. Every time.”
The glass in my hand hit the bar harder than I meant. “Don’t test me if you ain’t ready.”
He leaned in, voice rough silk against my cheek. “Oh, I’m ready.”
I didn’t plan the kiss. My hand found his collar, his knuckles slid to my jaw, and then his mouth owned mine like the table belonged to us. Not sweet—hungry. Deep. His tongue stroked a rhythm that saidlisten and answer. I did both. A sound slipped out of me—too loud, too honest. My fist balled in his shirt to keep the floor steady under my feet.
When he pulled back, lips hovering, voice like gravel catching flame,“What’s it gonna be, Whitaker? You in?”
My body had already answered, but I let my eyes deliver the rest. “Yeah, Hale. I’m in. Just don’t fold when it’s me you gotta follow.”
“Baby, I don’t fold. I break.”
The line knifed sweet through my chest because we weren’t just talking about pool. Nine-ball doubles meantalternating turns, trusting break order, leaving each other straight on the money ball instead of showing off. It meant letting someone touch the game you built to keep your heart from getting messy.
And I had just handed Quentin a key no one else had ever touched.
That was the scariest part. Not the kiss. Not even the heat. Theease of yes.The way it felt like the table had been waiting for us all along, and I was just late to my own match.
Leon’s mouth twitched like he’d been holding back commentary and finally swallowed it. He slid me a fresh chalk cube like a benediction. “Then set your break order now,” he said, all business to cover the soft. “And when you leave him shape, make it kind.”
