Halle, being the sociable one, said, “How about I buy us a round?Luke, come with me.”
She grabbed him by the arm, not giving him a chance to say no, and dragged him toward the bar, leaving me alone with Owen.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said.
“I didn’t expect to be here,” I said with a grin.“But Halle… well…”
He chuckled.“She talked you into it.”
I glanced over at the bar to see Halle leaning back on her elbows talking to Luke and laughing at something he said.He was leaned in close.Intimate.Friendly.
“She did.”
He handed me the pool cue.“How about a game of 8-Ball?”
“Sure.”I couldn’t refuse.
Because the last time I played a game of pool with Owen was when we were still in high school and I was still competing.
I intended to compete again.Old habits and all.
He took a swig of his beer and then set it aside to re-rack the table.I watched him.The way he methodically slipped the balls within the rack, ordering them precisely like it was something he’d done all his life.
“We used to play pool,” I said before I could stop the words.
Still bent over the table, he looked up at me, light glinting in his soft gray eyes.“We did.”
But what I didn’t say was we used to get Owen’s older brother, Colt, to buy us beers while we played.Back then, I thought we were being nothing but rebellious teenagers.Colt kept an eye on us and let us drink while we shot pool and tried to outdo each other.
After he graduated high school, Colt disappeared out of Hickory Hollow.
“Do you ever hear from Colt?”I asked.
His expression changed.Like it was a sore subject he didn’t want to talk about.
He shrugged.“Not as much as Dad would like.”
I took that to mean he didn’t visit on holidays.
Interesting.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about me and Owen back then.I competed against him then because I wanted his attention.I wanted him to think I was one of the cool kids who could drink and play pool.
And back then, he never ever acted like he had an interest in me.
Back then, all the girls chased him and Gretchen, AP Chem genius, managed to catch him.
“You always beat me,” I added, thinking about our previous games.
“You always wanted to beat me.”He finished racking and reached for another cue.“Do you want to break?”
“I’d love to.”Even as I said it, my heart fluttered.
My palms broke into a sweat as I lined up the cue ball and took my stance.Before I could shoot, though, he leaned down close enough to brush against me.
“Let’s see what you got, Wakefield,” he murmured, his breath sliding warm over my ear.
My brain promptly forgot how to operate my limbs.He was trying to distract me, and it worked.
