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My spine straightened. “I only have one limit that is non-negotiable.”
“That being…?”
“You can’t ask anything about me from the past year.”
He stared at me for a moment, scratching at his chin as he contemplated my caveat.
“Deal,” he said. I stuck my hand out, but he didn’t reciprocate. “If I can break.”
I huffed, rolling my eyes. “Fine, deal.”
We shook quickly before silently moving away, me to the wall to pick out my cue stick, him to the table to rack and set. Once we were both settled, he put the cue ball down, and, without hesitating, took a direct shot, sinking two balls in the process.
I grunted in annoyance; apparently, he knew his way around a billiards game, too.
“Looks like I’ll be taking stripe colors, then.” He winked at me, my stomach churning at the impressive break.
“Yup,” I said between gritted teeth, trying my best not to growl.
“Also,” he leaned over, taking his first shot, missing the back right pocket, “I felt it was fair that you get to ask me a few questions beforehand. I already know a decent amount about you, between your family’s history and my friendship with Oliver, but you haven’t been given the same courtesy.”
I kept my eyes on the table, circling around it to decide the best shot to take. At least, that’s what I made it look like while my insides quaked. His offer was unexpected and immensely generous. He was offering up answers, not because I had a right to them, but because he wanted me to feel comfortable with the fact he already knew stuff about me. He wanted me to feel as if we were equals in a way.
A tiny voice tempted me to take advantage of his generosity, but the churning in my gut let me know that wasn’t what I really wanted.
“Then let’s make it fair.” I finally picked my first shot, leaning over to line up my cue stick. “Think about what you know about me and tell me the same answer for your life.”
I shot, my solid red ball sinking into the left side pocket.
“Well, alright then.” He sipped of his ale, taking a few silent moments. “I grew up in Rystin as an only child with my fathers. One was in the guard before retiring to open his own archery training school. The other is a craftsman, primarily working in carving and designing furniture. I joined the guard when I was eighteen, training in the Rystin Faction with Oliver, although that fact you already knew. Once I completed my Omega training, I transferred to the Xoblar Faction, first as a Delta before going through promotions, ultimately becoming the Beta. I don’t play any instruments, but my favorite is the lyre and I wish I had been able to learn growing up. Just never seemed to find time.”
I wasn’t surprised about most of the facts he knew about me, seeing as half of them were common knowledge throughout the Guard and the others were easily pieced together from Ollie’s life. However, there was one fact he had added that I wondered where he learned it.
“How did you know I played an instrument?” I watched him line up his next shot.
“Oliver,” he said. “He used to talk about how much he loved watching you practice the piano and how he missed the sound of your songs in the house, that you used to play them when he struggled to fall asleep.”
It was something I had done for him the year after mother had passed and I heard him wandering around the house late at night. It had been one of the few things that had helped during his grieving process. “That was sweet of him.”
“You were one of his favorite subjects to talk about.” Nolan straightened, taking a step back so I could lean into my next shot.
My cheeks heated, words jumbling in my mind—not the exact state I wanted to be in. So instead of focusing on the conversation, I turned back to the colorful table in front of us.
As the game continued, and we each shot and sank our balls, the quieter we became. We each fixated on winning, my competitive drive stirring and brewing just below the surface. I wanted that question; I wanted to hear his answer almost as much as I wanted to avoid having to answer his. So, I kept all my focus on the table, mapping it out and setting myself up for the best shots.
We ended up tied by the end, fighting to see who would sink the eight-ball.
I cursed my bad luck as Nolan got to take the first shot. The cue ball was decently lined up, although it wasn’t the easiest. I sucked in a breath as he took the shot, the sharp click of the two balls colliding echoing in the room as they raced across the tabletop. My pulse pounded for a brief second before the eight-ball knocked into the side instead of sliding into the pocket.
He groaned, his chin falling to his chest. “Your turn.”
I bit my lip, hiding the smug smirk that attempted to escape. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself; a lot could happen if I got too brash, leading to stupid mistakes. Instead, I kept my focus on what was in front of me, leaning over to get the right view, the cue ball lined up. If I did this right, I could bank shot the eight-ball, making me the victor. I took my time, finding the right angle and making sure everything was perfect. I took one, two, three breaths before pulsing my cue stick forward, sending the cue ball flying.
My heart stopped for the second the eight-ball shot across the table before falling perfectly in the front right pocket.
“Yes!” I slammed the bottom of my cue down on the floor, letting out an exasperated sigh.
“Nice shot.” He was no longer smiling, yet I could see a hint of pleasure twinkling in his green eyes. He might not be happy he lost, but he didn’t seem too broken up about it.
