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“What about that chick? She’s pretty.”
“Should Yas be worried?” I walk around the pool table, weighing my options. I could go for the red stripe, but it’s too close to two of Nixon’s balls.
Hmm…
“Hell no. I’m not checking her out for me. I’m checking her out for you.”
“I’m quite capable of finding my own hookups, Cole.”
Taking a sip of my whiskey, I observe the position of the balls for a while longer. I place the glass out of the way before leaning down over the pool table and placing the cue against my knuckles.
“You sure about that? Because I haven’t seen you with anybody recently.”
“Keeping tabs on me, Cole?” I do a few test shots. My tongue darts out as I narrow my gaze on the ball.
“No, I’m just wondering if you’re keeping somebody hidden from me, that’s all.”
And I miss.
“Fuck.”
So much for keeping my cool.
“That was pitiful,” Nixon laughs and shoves me away. “Let me show you how it’s done.”
He gets to the table and quickly pockets three of his balls before he finally misses one.
“Showoff,” I mutter, downing the rest of my drink. My gaze falls on my phone, willing it to buzz, but no luck so far.
Where the hell is he?
“Sore loser.”
“As if,” I huff, going back to the table. “I’d have to lose first, and we have yet to finish the game.”
“We’ll see about that.”
We both go around the table, pocketing the balls until there’s only the black one left.
“But seriously, it makes me wonder if I am right.”
Are we back to this? Can’t he just let it go?
“Right about what?” I ask, playing dumb.
“About a girl, Wentworth. I’ve never seen you not flirt with a girl, especially when she’s so obviously trying to get your attention since the moment we’ve walked into the bar.”
“Maybe I’m just trying to focus on football this year.”
“Maybe.” He takes his shot, the black ball smoothly going into the pocket as he straightens and turns to face me. “But why do I feel like that’s not the whole truth?”
I shake my head, making sure not to show anything on my face. “You’re delusional.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m going to grab another drink. You want one?”
Nixon shakes his head no. “I think I’m going home. You good?”
