A smile forced itself upon my lips. He seemed so much in love. It was beautiful and happy. I wanted a guy who looked that happy when someone was talking to him about me. I wanted a wedding at the same place where I loved to spend my celebrations. I wanted love. I wanted for once to be envied for having such a beautiful relationship, not the other way around. I was so tired of being jealous.
He scooted closer to me and held out his phone. “Here. This is my bride, Jess.”
She was gorgeous. Model gorgeous. Tall, skinny, blonde, perfect smile, flawless skin generous breasts. She was wearing a bikini and summer hat as she posed playfully with a drink in her hand on a deck of a yacht. “Wow. You’re so lucky.”
He leaned back, his grin huge. “I am.” His gaze lifted off the screen and met mine. “I know you’re not going to the wedding with Zach, but you should totally come. It will be fun. Booze, dancing, cake.”
I chuckled.Thanks, but no thanks.“I’ll consider it. Thank you.” My eyes drifted toward the pool table on the right. “Do you play?”
“Yeah. You want?”
“Sure.” I welcomed the distraction. Anything to pass this night.
“Let me get some drinks first.” He sprang and hit the little cabinet under a tiny bar by the pool table. Then he poured some whiskey for himself. “What do you like?”
I got up from my seat and walked over to where he stood. “Uh…I don’t really drink.”
He racked the balls. “You don’t drink or you don’t want to drink when you’re stuck with three big assholes in the middle of nowhere?”
Grabbing a stick, I smiled. Then I held his gaze so he’d know I wasn’t lying. “I honestly don’t drink, but if I did, I’d definitely pass.”
“It’s a big deal for you, isn’t it? The V-card? I know you’re not scared of any of us, and you totally shouldn’t be. But you’re scared if you get drunk, you’ll lose it out of a mistake.”
I shrugged. “I guess. I don’t want it to be just a whim, and I definitely want to be sober when it happens.”
“One drink won’t get you drunk.”
“To someone who doesn’t drink, it will. Are we shooting some pool or what?”
“Yes, ma’am. Break.”
I leaned over the table in my breaking stance and cracked the stick into the cue ball, pocketing a striped one.
“Huh, I think I’m in trouble!” He chuckled.
I made the next shot, and the next but missed the fourth. It was his turn.
“So you’re a lefty?” he asked while he chalked the tip of his pool stick.
“Uh… ambidextrous.”
“Ambidextrous?” He smiled. “Very interesting.”
“I’m mostly right-handed, but I shoot pool and throw with my left hand.”
“I tried to write with my left hand once when I had my right arm in a sling. It was nothing but scribble. Can you write with your left hand?”
“Yeah, but it feels awkward. I might have been a lefty, though. I was always confused with which scissors to use.”
He smiled at me again. It took me by surprise that, after all these years, he was the first guy who ever noticed that about me. He tried to make a bank shot, but missed. His glass was almost empty, so he walked over to the bar and got himself a refill.
“May I ask how you got your arm in a sling?” I glanced up at him while lining up for my next shot.
He laughed. “Uh…Zach.”
“Of course.”
“He’s always been obsessed with flying. No wonder he turned out to be a pilot. Anyway, he made this plane out of God knew what and convinced me it would fly. So I sit in the tiny cabin, and he pushes it off this very rooftop. Thank God, it was snowing, and it was only my arm that was broken.”
