Authors: N.K. Pockett
I stood on the other side, watching it. “Hey, that’s cheating. Put it back where you hit it,” I said as he moved it into an even more difficult position to hit. He grinned and shook his head, placing it where it was before.
I nodded. That was better.
“Now, what angle does this make?” he asked, leaning on the pool table, clasping his hands on the edge. I frowned and shrugged. I don’t know.
“Right angle?” I guessed and mentally slapped myself for being so stupid. “Obtuse. I meant obtuse,” I corrected myself.
Darius was grinning and then pointed to the edge of the table. “That’s where you want to hit it at,” he instructed. That’s when I realised I could just sit here listening to his voice. No wonder people didn’t complain when he spoke.
His voice was low and somehow it had a tone that
made
you want to listen to it. He should have become a news reporter.
“On the pool table, energy is always conserved…”
And I didn’t even hear the first part again. Crap. I nodded like I was paying attention.
“If you hit the ball lightly, the ball can stop before something good or bad can happen, due to the little friction. The collisions between the balls are perfectly elastic-”
I frowned, cutting him off. “Did you do physics or something? Speak English,” I complained but he just smiled and shook his head.
“If you hit it with the right force, when the balls meet, one will stop and the other will go,” he said and I nodded. Ah, the beauty of English.
“So you need to figure out where to hit this white ball from where you are, to hit it at the edge to make it rebound and hit the yellow ball we have here.” He moved his finger closer to me. “If you hit it here, the angle isn’t big enough. But if you hit it here,” he said, moving his finger back to where it was, “it should rebound at the proper angle.”
I nodded. Okay, so I’m just going to pretend I understood everything he said and just hit it where his finger was.
“Alright, hit it hard, but lightly.”
“It’s that contradicting,” I said as I leaned down to hit it.
“Just a bit,” he replied.
And I missed
just a bit,
the white all hitting the edge rather than rebounding, deciding to go over the edge. Darius leaned forward and caught it before it dropped.
“Not that hard,” he said, placing it back there. “Try again.”
I nodded and this time when I hit it “softly”, the white ball moved ten centimeters before it stopped. Well… that was too soft.
“Three times lucky?” I asked as he placed the white ball back and walked over to me. Man, I was hopeless. I leaned back down to take another shot when I felt him behind me, making me jump.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I felt his hand on my waist, moving me.
He answered, “Helping.”
I frowned but moved as instructed.
“Um,” I said, moving away from his touch that was slightly border lining the ticklish factor.
“Just turn around,” he whispered and I did, trying not to shiver as he placed his hand on my right hand at the end where I was holding the stick, and the other where I was using my left hand. I could feel the warmth from his front on my back, and it made me realise how close we were.
Not that I was complaining.
“You just need to know how much force to use,” he said. He was still focusing on the game? My mind was going mental and my heart was about to fall out of my chest and he was talking about the game. God damn it, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate when he was doing this.
He pulled my arm back with his and it shot forward, hitting the ball with accurate force, and for once it rebounded and hit the other ball, which fell into the pocket. “Done,” he muttered, his breath tickling the nape of my neck.
This time I did shiver, just the slightest, as I let go of the cue stick and stood up straighter. I cleared my throat and turned around, only to come face to face with him. He was still standing there?
“What?” I asked, confused, as he stared down at me, his eyes nearly as dark as the green of the billiard table.
“Blue suits you,” he commented, pulling on the end of my cowboy-type button-up shirt. I could feel my face heat up. Did he just compliment me? His fingers brushed a strand of my hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. It made my heart beat even louder.
It felt like the whole world could hear it, but I highly doubted that. His fingers cupped my chin, his thumb running across the bottom of my lip. I mentally cursed, positive that my lips were more chapped than a cookie crumb, and this is why you should moisturise.
When his lips met mine, I really didn’t care about moisturising lotion. I wrapped my arms around his neck as I kissed him back.
“I leave you both for five minutes and this is what happens? Do you want me to banish you to opposite corners or something?”
I pulled back, blinking, trying to get out of my dazed moment. I turned to see Adrian crossing his arms against his chest and tapping his foot on the ground, like an angry mother.
“What?” I asked, confused, clearing my throat when my voice sounded different. He shook his head. I pushed Darius off me, trying to stand up straight and pulling the hem of my shirt down.
“You have infected this pool table. Gross. I could have drown without that mental image,” Adrian shuddered, chucking me something and I caught it. A coke can. Darius smacked the back of his head, muttering something and walking toward the couch.
“You took your, um, time,” I said, still trying to subtly catch my breath.
“I was chatting up this table with hot chicks.” He turned to the pool table and frowned. “I should have stayed down there.” He grimaced and I heard Darius chuckle from the couch.
There was a commotion on the stairs and Adrian dropped the cue and rushed over, completely missing his shot. “Finally. I’m starving.” He stood at the top of the stairs, crossing his hands and tapping his foot as he waited for them to come.
I shook my head and picked up the ball, placing it back on the table. I heard Adrian said, “You guys took you-”
When he stopped, I looked up toward him. Darius was on the couch texting away like he normally did. I suddenly felt sorry for his personal assistant, Jesse. He must be on duty 24/7.
Instead of the boys being back, it was someone else, a group of ‘someone else’ and I frowned. More friends?
“Didn’t someone tell you this is the VIP area?” Adrian was asking, still in the middle of the entrance blocking their way in.
There was a scoff then I heard a voice and saw someone. I didn’t know who it was, who said, “Exactly, so why don’t you go back downstairs where you belong.” It was a deep voice.
Darius stood up from the couch, walking toward me. “Who is it?” he asked and I shrugged.
His question was answered when the guy said, “I’m the mayor’s son. Learn some respect, fool.”
I winced. Adrian, please don’t make them agitated. I could hear Adrian scoff and could picture him rolling his eyes. “Well, we probably own your father,” Adrian replied. Which could be true. The mayor probably had a deal with the biggest companies in the world, or even a partnership.
“Adrian,” Darius’s deep voice warned him from beside me and I saw Adrian look at us. I could see the hate in this eyes and I wasn’t even sure why. He looked royally pissed.
“Just let them through. There are heaps of tables up here.”
I rolled my eyes. Typical Darius, always trying not to have a fight. Probably because he always won. I shuddered, just thinking about the aftermath he left the last two times. I could do without a third.
Adrian grumbled something and stormed toward us.
“Why are you so upset about this?” I asked softly as he picked up the ball from the table and walked around. There was something getting into his nerve and I didn’t know what.
Adrian shrugged it off. “Nothing,” he said as he set up for another game. I looked at Darius who just shook his head and walked around the table.
Chatter filled the room and I turned around to see four guys walk in. There were three tables up here. We were on one, so there were two left. Rather than take the far table from us, they decided to walk up and take the middle table, which, of course, pissed Adrian off.
I looked back at Adrian to see Darius was giving him a stern talking to, both their voices low and fast.
I turned back to the table. They looked young, probably still in high school, and immature. Why was Adrian stooping low enough to mess with teenagers? One of them caught my eye and winked and I looked away. Yep, immature.
“Come on, let’s play another game,” Darius announced as he walked up to hand me a stick while Adrian polished the end of his. It was already polished enough and I was staring at him, wincing every time the cue stick bent a bit.
The cue stick was too strong to be bent. I felt like he was about to snap it.
I took the stick from Darius. “He alright?” I asked, confused yet worried.
Darius nodded. “I’ll tell you later.” He walked around, setting up the triangle for another game.
I walked over to Adrian and took the chalk from him. “I think you’ve polished that enough,” I said, looking at the chalk square, a more visible dent in it from the morning. He realised what he had been doing and smiled sheepishly.
I had never seen this side of Adrian, hard, angry, and it was…scary. He had never strayed from his childish behavior.
“What’s your name, lovely?”
We both looked up to see the new addition to our private conversation staring down at me. I raised an eyebrow. Was he talking to me?
“Why don’t you shove your questions up your dick?” Adrian spat beside me. Clearly the newcomers were doing this to rile him off, and it was working. I gave Adrian a warning look. He didn’t need to push them.
“Adrian,” I said, clearing my throat. “Be nice. It was a question.”
The teen gave him a victorious smile and then looked at me, waiting for my answer.
“Mrs. Quartz, and yours?” I asked, just to be polite.
“Mrs huh?” he said, looking down at me, his hazel eyes taking me in. “Where’s your ring, then?”
When I had my ring, no one really looked at it. When I didn’t have my ring, everyone looked at my hand to see an expected white stone of some sort, or a wedding band even. I shook my head and turned around.
Darius was watching us while setting up the game, trying to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping and I cracked a grin. He needed to work on that skill. I leaned over the table and grabbed his left hand. He looked at me, confused.
“Nice arse,” some immature kid decided to yell out and I sighed. I banged my forehead on the edge of the table. Did they really need to push people? It was like they wanted to fight.
Darius decided to come to my rescue, calmly and coolly saying to the kid, “The arse is spoken for, kid. Go back to your game.” He probably saw the same thing I saw: a bunch of immature teenagers. No need to cause a fight that they clearly wanted to have.
With a last tug, I managed to get the wedding ring off and turned back around, leaving Darius to finish setting up.
“There, happy?” I asked the kid as I placed the ring on my ring finger. It was big, really big, but as long as I held my hand upright, it should stay.