Page 81 of Dirty Pool

“Yeah, man, sure,” Michel replied tightly.

She had to physically stop herself from grabbing onto Michel’s legs to keep him there with her. A part of her knew without a doubt it was going to be weeks before the two of them even got a chance to be near one another again.

Her heart felt like it was dying.

Still, she stayed hidden even as Michel moved away from her, and rounded the table. Just before he was gone from her sights entirely, he glanced back and caught her staring at him. It was quick—just a blink, and she would have missed it.

He winked.

Then, he mouthed, “See you soon.”

It made her smile.

He was always doing that.

And then he was gone.

Gabbie didn’t know how long she stayed down there—another minute or two before she dared to at least poke her head up over the edge of the table, and scan the bar. No one seemed to notice the redhead at the pool table when she stood straight up, deciding it was safe enough for her to leave.

Michel was nowhere in sight.

Neither was his friend.

Gabbie waited by the pool table, staring at the front entrance where he would have left, just long enough to see if Michel might come back. There was a chance, right? Maybe his friend got in his vehicle first, and left before Michel did. Then, he could turn around and come right back in to see her.

He didn’t come back.

Gabbie slipped out the back of the bar the same way she had come in. Each step she took made her heart grow heavier, but she pushed the feeling down. They would figure it out, right? They always did.

The phone in Gabbie’s pocket rang, dragging her from the thoughts warring in her mind. She checked the screen just long enough to see Charles’ name looking back at her. Shite. It seemed her father noticed her absence before she hoped he would.

Nothing ever went right.

“Da,” she greeted, picking up the call.

“Where are you? I told you to stay close, didn’t I? And you left?”

He didn’t feck around.

Gabbie thought up a quick lie. “I needed a breather. It’s been a long day. I decided to take a drive, okay?”

“That doesn’t tell me where—”

“Coming home right now,” she interrupted. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

… yeah, if she drove like a madwoman.

Maybe she would.

“My home,” her father ordered.

Oh, were they going back to that?

Great.

“Of course, Da.”

He hung up the phone.