AllFreeNovel
Share Us
34
Elizabeth
“You never told me you could play pool this well. I kind of feel like I’ve been swindled,” Brenden teases as he bends over to take his shot.
Bowling alleys aren’t my thing, but he loves bowling. And he’s always showing interest in the things I love, so it’s time I do the same.
After two games of me throwing mostly gutter balls, he took pity on me and agreed to play pool instead. I may have failed to mention I’m a pretty good player. Although, I have a sneaking suspicion he’s only been letting me win because he feels sorry for me.
“It’s not my fault you made assumptions based on my gender.” I place a hand on my hip, the smile that spreads across my face ruining my attempt to look angry.
I was worried things might change between us after his father’s parole hearing last Friday. That he would become closed off. Sharing something so personal with me couldn’t have been easy for him. But if anything, we’ve only grown closer.
When the detective who worked on the case told Brenden his father wasn’t granted parole, I was the first person he told. He opened up to me about being riddled with guilt for feeling so relieved. His father might die in prison. And despite everything that man did to Brenden, the thought still pains him.
“Hey, I’m not the kind of guy who expects you to be pregnant and barefoot in my kitchen.” He pauses to look up at me. “But, I’m not opposed to the idea either.”
I laugh as he raises his eyebrows suggestively, poking him with my pool stick as if he hadn’t made my stomach flutter. “Shut up and take your damn shot, dumbass.”
“Hey, don’t poke me with your stick unless I get to poke you with mine.” He winks, returning his attention to the table.
I allow my eyes to greedily roam over his body as he takes his shot, my abdomen tightening and body heating. It’s getting harder to keep this friendship platonic. I want him. Badly. It’d be easier to fight this insane attraction to him if he wasn’t such a great guy. Or if he wasn’t constantly making his thoughts and feelings known. He’s simply waiting on me to say the word.
He wins the game by sinking the eight ball and stalks toward me with a lopsided grin on his face. “If you’re tired of losing, we can head to my place.”
The implication in his husky tone causes a shiver of anticipation to course through me, his close proximity making it hard to catch my breath.
I push on his shoulder, taking a step back. “Or, you could go get me another beer.”
“As you wish.” He does a slight bow, a pleased looked on his face as he heads to the bar.
Brenden returns by the time I finish racking the pool balls for another game, wearing a huge grin as he hands me my beer. “The jukebox is about to play a little something special for you.”
“Oh lord, should I be afraid?” I chug the beer, hoping to drown the butterflies.
“I’m offended.” He crosses his arms and steps closer to me, making my head spin and breath quicken as he leans in. “Have I ever done anything to warrant you being afraid of my actions?”
His eyes lock on mine, the heat in his intense stare rendering me speechless. I don’t even realize I’m shaking my head until he says, “Exactly.” His hands slide around my waist, his arms tightening around me. “Now be quiet.” His whispered demand brushes across my lips, his gaze dropping as I lick them. “It’s about to play your song.”
I hold my breath, wishing Brenden Scott was the kind of guy who breaks his promises, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips on mine again. A kiss wouldn’t simply be a kiss anymore, though. There’s too much between us.
Brenden rests his forehead on mine, making my knees go weak. At any moment, I’m either going to pass out or cave and kiss him.
Then Some Kind of Wonderful by Grand Funk Railroad comes through the speakers, and he begins moving us to the quick rhythm. He lifts his head, singing along to the lyrics, and I laugh.
Brenden
“Damn, Mr. B.”
I ignore the voice behind me, desperate to hold on to this moment with Lizzy.
“I didn’t realize you had so much game or such a beautiful girl.”
Realizing the mood has been killed, I swing my head around to find one of my high school kids smiling mischievously. Tommy Sanford used to be one of my favorites. He’s smart, driven, and determined not to let the hand he was dealt keep him from succeeding.
“Tommy, remember when we talked about language and respect?”
“Oh shit—shoot. Sorry, Mr. B.”
