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As I walked around Jason’s pool table, pulling the balls out of each pocket, my eyes naturally kept drifting toward the front door.
Stop it, damnit.
What if he’s not coming?
It’s Friday! Of course he’s coming!
Oh God, what if he does come? What do I do? Give him a hug?
What? No! You know Ken doesn’t do that. He won’t even let Allen hug him.
But we’re, like, dating now.
You have one date scheduled over a month from now. Calm down.
My ears picked up the sound of the front door opening, even over the stereo and TV and crowd noise. As I racked the balls, I glanced up and watched Jason’s newest guest enter. Then, I let out an exasperated sigh when I saw that it was just another one of his khaki-clad co-workers.
Plastering a fake smile on my face, I looked over at Allen and gestured to the table. “You wanna break?”
“Nah. You go ahead. I’m just gonna call Amy real quick.” Allen’s big, round eyes looked puffy and tired behind his glasses.
I felt bad for the guy. I didn’t know what was up, but it was obvious that he was going through some shit.
Jason’s pool table was in what was supposed to be his dining room, so it took some maneuvering to take a shot without punching a hole in the Sheetrock with my stick. Again. The balls scattered, but only one went in—a solid.
“You play?”
I spun around and found Ken standing in the entryway between the living room and dining room with a smug smile on his stubbled face. He must have come straight from work again. The sleeves of his gray-blue button-down shirt were rolled up to his elbows. His silky gray-blue tie was loose around his neck. And his soft charcoal slacks hung about an inch or two lower than what was professional. It wasn’t all black, and it wasn’t meant to be edgy, but there was an air of fuck you about the way he wore it that turned me on anyway.
“Hey.” I beamed.
“Hey,” Ken said with a half-smile, crossing his arms over his chest.
Okay, so no hug.
“You play pool?” He gestured toward the table with a flick of his chin.
“Not very well.” I laughed. “But, yeah, my parents have a table.”
“Good thing you’re playing Allen then.”
Ken’s best friend was pacing back and forth on the other side of the table, waving his stick around with one hand and holding his cell phone to his head with the other.
Ken walked into the room and turned so that his back was toward Allen. Lowering his voice, he said, “Amy broke up with him last week and moved to Arizona to live with her sister.”
My hand flew to my mouth. I looked over Ken’s shoulder at the poor bastard on the phone. “Oh my God!” I whispered. “They’ve been together for, like, five years!”
Ken turned around. “Allen, take your shot, man.”
Allen looked startled. Nodding at Ken, he held the phone with his shoulder and took the worst shot imaginable. Then, he returned to his pacing.
“How’s he doing?” I asked, watching his friend wear a hole in the carpet.
Ken shrugged. “I dunno. He says he’s gonna go to Arizona and get her back.”
Ken walked over to his buddy and took the stick out of his hand. Allen didn’t even notice. Nodding to the table, Ken gestured that it was my turn.
“Like, caveman-style?” I asked. “Like, throw her over his shoulder and bring her home?” I lined up a shot and prayed to the gods of coolness to let me sink it. I exhaled in relief when I made it. Then I missed my next shot by a mile.
