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Claiming a high-top table near a vacant pool table, I nurse my first drink waiting for the rest of the crew to arrive. I am putting on a social face for them all without giving away my less-than-honorable intentions as they enter in a mob, the group laughing amongst themselves.
Lacey is the first to spot me and waves before whispering something to Carter as they approach me.
“Not going to lie, I was expecting you to bail on us. I am glad you showed up,” she says with a smile, her cheeks pinked from the brisk air outside.
“I am turning over a new leaf, didn’t you hear? I am the good guy now, on my best behavior,” I toy, holding my hand up in an attempt to flash the scouts honor symbol. I think I fuck it up and begin to question the alcohol content of this drink. Lacey giggles at my expense and I am thankful that she is on my team somehow.
“Is someone grabbing you a drink?” I ask.
“No drinking for me right now, I am trying to land a new gig and I have to work on my body image. I am just about at my goal physique though so soon I will be able to have the good stuff again,” she explains, fidgeting with her fingers and avoiding eye contact.
“There is no shame in working hard to reach your goals. Don’t let anyone tell you what you should or shouldn’t be doing, it’s your body and your life. And literally your future you have to live with. I hope they see your talent and potential down the line and you land the job. But also, don’t go breaking the contract on me or I might cry,” I add trying to keep the topic from getting too serious.
I, more than most, know what it takes to sacrifice all the good you have, all the positive shit in your life, to reach your goals. I used to regret it. Used to mourn the shit I chose to give up for the life and career I have now. I don’t do that anymore though. I now fully understand that not everything is meant to last.
The rest of the group gathers around the pool table, most of them placing their drinks on the high tops in the corner but still chatting with each other. Carter grabs a pool cue from the nearby rack, her delicate hands running up and down the handle making me think way too much about her hands on my cock.
“Are you any good?” I blurt, raising my eyebrows in her direction.
She turns her body towards me before leaning her hands onto the pool table in a competitive stance. “I have been known to break some balls,” she says with a smirk and it takes everything in me not to smile like a giant fucking idiot. Except, based on her reaction, I’m pretty sure I do in fact smile like a giant fucking idiot.
“Rack 'em up then,” I challenge, grabbing a cue for myself off the nearby wall and taking a long pull of my beer.
The rest of the cast seems to be frozen in their conversations, all eyes on us as Carter starts racking while I apply way too much blue chalk to the end of my cue. This should be interesting.
While I love seeing this playful side of Carter coming out, I know better than to trust it. She has a competitive streak in her, I can see it in the depths of her chocolate-brown eyes. She wants to rip me apart in front of everyone, to knock me down off the high horse I rode in on.
“How about we raise the stakes?” I offer, knowing damn well she will take the bait.
“What did you have in mind boss?” She plays back, the title of boss rubbing me the wrong way.
“We aren’t on set right now, call me BK please,” I say, hoping she finds this friendly instead of demanding. What I wouldn’t give to be her boss in the bedroom though, if only for one night.
“Alright Brett, what did you have in mind?”
This bitch is messing with me now, using my full name against me and in front of everyone. I know it’s not a secret but no one has called me Brett since my Nana, and sometimes Ella if she is getting serious. Carter continues to challenge me, which only makes me want to fight back that much harder. Time to up the ante.
“If I win, you have to take three shots and I get to choose what they are.”
"And if I win,” she counters, “you have to come to set wearing a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts.”
Evil fucking woman.
“Seriously? That’s the reward you want? To have me showing up to my job looking like a guy on spring break?”
“I want you to show that you can let loose and have some fun for once. It’s impossible to NOT have fun while wearing a Hawaiian shirt don’t you think? They just scream for attention in all the best ways,” she chuckles, already getting that warm and fuzzy buzz from whatever she is sipping on.
“Fine, it’s a deal. Now let’s fucking play, huh?”
Carter moves the straw to the side of her glass before shotgunning whatever is left down her throat in one swift movement. She crashes the glass back down onto the table before licking the remaining liquid from her lips and I already know I am screwed with a distraction like this. But fuck, I know I need to win.
It’s probably a little pathetic to use alcohol as a form of punishment. But part of me wants to see what might happen if she has more liquid courage coursing through her bloodstream. Will she open up more about what she truly thinks of me? Will I get to hear about a crazy night in college when she woke up between two people? The possibilities are endless and I can’t pass up a chance to see what comes out of her mouth when unfiltered.
Or shit, maybe even what she allows in her mouth when letting loose.
The crack of the solid white billiard ball breaks my attention and I see the balls scatter all over the table, no easy moves standing out for her to make. The first move tells you the most about a person when you’re playing pool. This is when she will reveal if she is an offensive or defensive player.
Part of me is hoping that she is an offensive player. The thought of her getting aggressive in this game makes me wonder if she is aggressive in other aspects of life. Consider my curiosity on high alert.
