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The laughter is contagious, and I let out my own fit of giggles. “I have no idea.” I shake my head. “This is ridiculous.”
“Yeah it is.” Oliver wraps his arm around my shoulder. “I missed you,friend.”
“Me too,friend.” I lean up against him, glad to have my best friend back.
“Game of pool?” He nudges me with his hip.
“Oh, you’re on!”
A couple of Oliver’s teammates are just finishing up a game, so we hover around the table waiting our turn. When the black ball is finally sunk, he wastes no time collecting the balls from the pockets and racking them up.
“Ladies first,” he says. “You can break.”
Oliver pulls the triangle away with a flourish. Leaning up against my pool cue, I smile at the memory of us playing pool with our dads in the caravan park games room every summer. Being chivalrous men, they’d always let me break first.
I take a deep breath as I run my eyes over the table, then focus on the white ball preparing to take my shot. Leaning forward to position myself, I exhale as I draw back and strike fast. The balls explode against each other with a loud crack and I watch as two striped balls and one solid ball drop into separate pockets.
“Guess I’m bigs,” I say with a smirk as a few of Oliver’s teammates start ribbing him about being shown up by a girl. I pocket one more ball and set up another.
Oliver narrows his eyes in concentration, his tongue between his teeth as he surveys his options. His serious expression brings on a snort of laughter because while he’s skilled on the footy field, my best friend has zero patience or expertise on a pool table. His shot grazes the ball he was aiming for before the white ball drops into the pocket, and he lets out a groan as the boys that are watching roar with laughter.
“You’re making this too easy for me, Johnson,” I rib him to a chorus of “ooohs” from our audience.
Chuckling, he retorts, “Game’s not over yet, Robinson.” Warmth spreads through my body when he gives me his trademark grin, eyes crinkled and dimples on full display.
I sink two more balls before my next shot hits the edge of the pocket, rolling back into the middle of the table. Ashley finally sidles up to the table with JD and the birthday boy in tow, waving a serviette at me with a sheepish look on her face.
“Truce?” She offers me the drink in her other hand.
I roll my eyes as I take a sip. Vodka and orange juice.
Macca raises his eyebrows at us. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing.” Ashley plucks his cup out of his hand, taking a large mouthful. “Ugh!” Her face contorts in disgust. “What are you drinking?”
“Just a little Anthony McDonald special.”
“That’s disgusting!”
Macca shrugs. “Next time get your own drink.”
We all laugh as Ashley pokes her tongue out at him before heading over to the bar to get herself another drink.
JD surveys the pool table. “Nice game, Oli.”
Oliver pulls a face. “Hannah’s kicking my butt.”
JD laughs, making his way around the table to give me a high five. “Props, girl. I didn’t know superstar over here had a weakness.”
Oliver manages to sink three of his balls before I line up on the black ball. It’s a tricky shot with the white ball up the opposite end of the table. Frowning, I lean forward, trying to get my angle just right. I need to ricochet the white ball off the side of the table around his ball that is blocking my shot. I don’t want to hit it too hard, or I risk the white ball bouncing off and rebounding into the other pocket. I hit it with enough force that we all hold our breath as the black ball slowly rolls towards the corner pocket. For a moment it looks like it’s going to stop on the edge, but then it drops in.
Oliver’s teammates all hoot and holler as they clap me on the back. I try not to look too smug, but I fail miserably.
“Good game.” Oliver winks at me before pulling me in for a brief hug.
I surprise both of us by wrapping my arms around his waist, holding him there a little longer. He presses his lips to the top of my head before stepping away.
He takes my hand in his as he turns to Macca and JD and says, “Fire pit?”
