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The two-day shift workers, Jennifer and Geoff, play a game of pool so poorly that it looks like both of them are losing. They’re both college-dropouts who met each other at the gym, fell in love at the gym, got jobs and the gym, and then were married last spring. Thankfully, the wedding wasn’t in the gym. I’m doing a pretty good job of small talking with them about their shitty pool game, the glorious weather, and other pointless topics when a figure walks toward us from the pizza buffet.
It feels like a rock hits my chest and got gets between my ribcage. The weight crushes my lungs and makes it hard to breathe. And all he’s doing is walking with a plate of pepperoni pizza slices stacked into a pyramid in one hand and a beer in the other.
He wears black board shorts and a black T-shirt that fits over his chest as if it were tailor made for him. His five o’clock shadow makes me wonder what it’d feel like having it brush across my cheek. My knees go weak and I grab onto the side of the pool table.
Yeah, okay…what did I say about him needing to suck it? I need to remember that. He abandoned me in high school. He means nothing to me. He can suck it.
Gripping my own beer tightly in my hand, I repeat these words in my mind, all while keeping a smile on my face. No one needs to know that I’ve fallen off the deep end here, especially Kris. Jessica sinks the number eight ball and then throws a fit, arguing that she didn’t know that ball was an instant game-ending ball.
“I think there’s a dirty joke somewhere in there,” Geoff says after his wife finishes her rant about sinking balls in the corner hole. Kris lets out a laugh and fist-bumps Geoff.
“There definitely is,” Kris says, his eyes glancing over the group. “But I’m not gonna say any of them.” When his eyes meet mine, his smile falters for an instant and then he looks away. Just like that. A glance at me and a glance away. He didn’t let his eyes linger on the tight-as-hell black dress I chose from the this-is-too-sexy-to-actually-wear side of my closet. He didn’t notice my strappy sandals and forty dollar pedicure or how fucking amazing my makeup looks because I re-did it twice before I came up here. After all of my hard work, all he gave me was a glance. I don’t mean anything to him.
I am an idiot.
Turning my back to the group of my coworkers, I lean my butt on the pool table and watch the people playing pool at other tables as I sip my beer. Geoff convinces Jennifer to let someone else play him in the next game. With a huff of indignation, she sweeps past them, grabbing my now empty beer bottle in the process. I start to object and she wiggles it, emphasizing its emptiness. “I’ll get you another one,” she says as she shimmies through the crowd toward the open bar.
“Hey boss,” Geoff asks as he reaches over me to grab the blue chalk thing. “If the whole gang is here tonight, who’s at the gym?”
I turn around to hear the answer and I want to kick myself because the whole point of keeping my back to the pool table was to avoid looking at Kris. But now I see him in all his gorgeous glory, as he takes the chalk from Geoff and twists it over the end of his pool stick. I will not focus on how sexy his fingers look.
“The gym is closed for the next forty-eight hours,” Kris says, stepping around the corner of the table to place the chalk back exactly where it was when Geoff grabbed it. His forearm gets so close to touching me, the hairs on my arms stand on end. I wonder if he did that on purpose. I wonder if he knows I’m lusting after him, like a fucking idiot, and he’s getting close to me just to screw with my emotions.
After what he did ten years ago, I can’t put anything past him.
I bet he dates super models. Not girls from small towns with boring jobs.
I shouldn’t be thinking any of this.
Susan and Geoff simultaneously ask him why we’re closing down for two days, and I’m just as curious as they are. In my five years of working at Carson’s, we’ve never been closed except for on Christmas.
“I’m doing a bit of remodeling,” he says, waiting for Geoff to rack the balls and remove the triangle. “Well, not so much remodeling the building as having all that old equipment moved out. I ordered all new cardio machines, three squat racks and benches,” he says as he leans over the edge of the table to line up his first shot. He keeps talking, listing all the things he bought for the gym. I don’t hear any of it because I’m focusing on the veins in his forearm as intently as if I’m going to be quizzed on them later.
God Delaney! Get a hold of yourself. What is wrong with you? You cannot lust after the guy who killed Tyler.
I swallow. My mental chiding went too far this time. I don’t normally think of Tyler like this. I only think of the happy memories—that is the promise I had made myself all those years ago. I will think of happy things and nothing else. He deserves as much.
“You feeling okay?”
The voice comes from my right and it pulls me out of my thoughts, but not enough to look up from the green felt of the pool table. “Delaney?” This time I look up. Because this time Kris said my name.
“Yeah?” my own voice sounds foreign to me. Kris steps closer to me and his hand touches my shoulder, as soft as if I’ll break.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost…or something.” He has to lower his head to look into my eyes, or to attempt to look into them. I stare at his Adam’s apple for just enough time to remember why I can’t look at him in the first place. Then I look away and see Susan and Geoff watching me as if I’d just had a seizure or something. For all I know, maybe I did.
“I’m fine,” I say, instincts taking over, making me pull away from Kris’s unwanted hand on my back. “I just zoned out for a minute. I’m fine.” I say the second part more to myself. He nods and lifts his pool stick, going back to the game.
Jennifer arrives with two ice-cold beers in her hands and I’ve never been happier to see her. “Refills!” she singsongs as she hands me one of the drinks. I take it and tell her thanks in an equally lame singsong voice. I don’t feel as cheery as I sound, but I know damned well how to fake it in front of Kris.
With Jennifer back, some of the tension is gone, and I try to participate with the laughter and jokes and I feel like I’m doing an awesome job. Kris doesn’t talk to me for the next three pool games, and I’m not upset or offended—I’m grateful.
One more beer and a shot of Patron later, I’m standing a little lopsided, using my pool stick for balance as Geoff sinks one, two, and three striped balls in a row, beating me. “You cheater,” I say, pointing my finger at him. He sweeps his arm out and takes a bow. “I’m not a cheater, m’lady. You just suck at pool.”
“Don’t we all,” Jennifer says, raising her glass in a toast.
Susan finishes the last of the cheese fries and jumps up from the barstool on the sidelines. “My turn!”
I hand her my pool stick and walk toward the table with everyone’s empty beer bottles and what used to be a plate of cheese fries but is now a sad empty dish. Right about now, the amount of alcohol in my stomach decides to tell my brain that I’m drunk. I take a deep breath and fumble for the barstool. I could have sworn it was behind me somewhere…
