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That earns me a glare from Karl. As if sensing the dramatic shift in the atmosphere, Kim glances back and forth between Karl and me, wearing a confused expression. I feel bad for her. She doesn’t deserve to be sucked into all this.
“Anyway, who wants to play some pool?” Wade asks, putting his drink down.
“Oh, yeah. I love pool,” Kim says. She jumps at the chance to participate, and I offer her a warm smile.
Karl doesn’t answer, but he begrudgingly gets up, pressing Kim out of the booth. We join them at the nearest pool table. Karl makes a display of showing Kim how to hold the stick, giving her precise directions, even though she insists she already knows how to play. In the past, I would have found that cute, endearing even, but now I find it irritating. Who cares if she doesn’t hold the stick properly? It’s a game between friends, not the World Pool Championship. Although I guess we are, in a way, competing for something.
9
Wade Hunter Always Wins
Wade
With every shot we take, Karl and I become a little more competitive. The girls are playing too, of course, but this game is clearly between him and me. If he could poke me in the eye with his stick, I’m quite sure I’d be blind already. I had a positive impression of him when we met at the airport, but tonight, I’m bearing witness to a whole other side of him. Why Roxy would be interested in dating a twat like him baffles me. But sadly, I don’t have a say in the matter.
Finally, it’s Roxy’s turn, and it could be the winning shot. She missed her last two attempts, but there’s no way she’ll miss this one. We are not losing this game.
“Concentrate, Roxy,” I murmur, coming up behind her. “We can win this.” I place my hands on her waist, bending my body over hers to help her into position. When I hold her, I feel like I’m clutching a treasure. Something I shouldn’t be allowed to touch. “Is this okay?” I whisper into her ear, not wanting to overstep.
She nods.
“Look at him. It’s driving him mad,” I add in a low whisper.
Karl has both hands braced on the edge of the table, eyes trained on us, like an animal watching his prey. Roxy nudges her head in my neck affectionately, and I close my eyes to savour the touch. Such a small gesture, but the wave of comfort it brings makes me shiver.
Opening my eyes, I angle Roxy’s arm and fix my gaze on the ball. “Now, take the shot.”
She pushes the stick, slowly but firmly, and our last monochrome ball flies right into the pocket.
“Yay!” She jumps for joy and lands right in my arms. Our bodies press together like two magnets reuniting, and I lose myself in her flowery perfume. When she pulls away, I cup her face between my hands and place a soft kiss on her full lips. I’ve been wanting to feel her lips on mine again ever since that day at the airport, and I have to say, it was well worth the wait. My lips part slightly, wanting to deepen the kiss, but a loud bang makes us break away with a start.
Karl has just thrown his stick on the pool table.
“Oh, come on, Karl.” Roxy props a hand on her hip. “Are you still a sore loser? It’s just a game.”
Unlike me, she doesn’t seem the least bit affected by the kiss we just shared. My heart is pounding in my chest, and all I want to do is get close to her again.
“No, I know,” Karl says, forcing a false smile. “I just dropped it a bit harder than I’d planned to. Didn’t control my strength.”
Roxy turns around and gives me an undiluted smile, which draws my gaze back to her luscious lips. A pang hits my stomach. Roxy is over the moon because our kiss made Karl jealous, which is, of course, the reason we did it. Nothing more. But then, why am I jealous of Karl’s jealousy? And why am I tempted to punch him in the gut so he feels the same way I do?
My mind is reeling, and I decide I need a good night’s sleep. So I suggest to the group that we call it a night.
“Did I go too far?” I ask, sliding in behind the wheel. Karl barely said goodbye to me. Not that I cared.
“No. It was good. Very convincing. I think it worked,” she says with a grin that lights up the car, reminding me, yet again, of her singular motivation to do this in the first place. “He said he’d like us to hang out just the two of us next week, ‘like old times.’ So, we’ll see.”
“I’m glad it worked,” I lie, drumming my fingers on the wheel as I pull into traffic. “By the way, what was that about you hating football? Is that true, or was it just his jealousy talking?” I’ve been dying to ask ever since Karl mentioned it, and I’m really hoping it’s the latter.
She shifts in her seat. “Well . . .”
My head spins toward her. “Seriously? You really hate the game that much? You think we’re all dumb jocks running after a ball for way too much money?” I focus on the road again, gripping the wheel with white knuckles. I know I shouldn’t take it personally, but damn, that hurts. “How can you hate football? How can you hate any sport?”
She releases a long breath. “I just don't see what’s so great about it. Nothing against you personally.”
I snort. “Well, it’s my job.”
“Yeah, and I’m a journalist. You probably hate my job too. I don’t care.” She shrugs, looking out the window.
