“I told you!” I sing, putting down the utensils and glancing around the
room. It has gotten busier in here since we sat down. My eyes fall on the pool table behind the glass doors that
lead into the adjacent bar, where a couple is just leaving. “Ever play?”
She glances around to where I’m staring
and shakes her head. “No, can’t say that I have.”
“We could use a little bit of fun to break up the seriousness.” I
eagerly get up and grab her hand. Pulling her to her feet, we walk toward the
“I am going to look ridiculous,” she argues.
I laugh. “Does it matter? Just focus on us and I promise…I won’t laugh.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that,” she replies sarcastically, as I hand her a
pool stick. She watches me chalk it up and then follows suit.
I start to rack the balls, and she is intently watching me. “The key to
this game is to keep your eyes on the subject.”
She raises her eyebrows, and I laugh. “Don’t worry, you’ll catch on.”
“You go first,” she replies, eyeing the table.
I grab the cue ball and place it on the table then slowly I move the
stick and connect with the ball. It hits the balls and they all scatter, but
none of them land in a pocket. I groan. “The object is to get the ball in the
She laughs. “Really? What a concept.”
She stands behind the cue ball, looking awkward but sexy as hell. As she
slides the stick between her fingers, she seems to wait for the perfect time.
Once she lets go, she misses the cue ball altogether. I try to contain my
laughter as I walk behind her. I wrap my arms around her, cradling her, showing
her how to shoot. She glances up and our eyes meet. If I knew that she wouldn’t
slap me, I would kiss her. Instead, I look back down to the balls and slowly
move her arm with the pool stick.
“Nice and easy,” I whisper. Her eyes turn back to the ball, and I can
hear her raspy breathing. I wonder if it is because of our close proximity with
one another. I feel my dick harden from the close proximity of having her bent
over the table, as images run through my mind of taking her on the table slow
and steady. The stick hits the cue ball and it connects with one of the
stripes, landing it in the corner pocket. I pull back slightly readjusting
myself before she notices that I’m sporting a semi from our brief
contact.“Great job!” I yell excitedly, sadly pulling away from her body.
She turns around and winks, causing me to take notice of the way that
she is suddenly flirting with me. “I had a good teacher.” She walks back around the table and shoots another ball into a
I stare at her, as she connects the cue ball with another and then
“Really?” I quip, placing my hands on the table staring at her. “Did you
just hustle me?”
She shrugs. “At least we didn’t play for money.” Then she runs the rest
of the stripes into the pockets and finally pockets the eight ball. She puts
her pool stick back in the rack and crosses her arms. “That was fun. Have any
I shake my head. This girl hustled me, and I will never live it down. I
am thankful that the guys aren’t here to witness this shit, but I know that she
will find a way to tell everyone. For some reason, I don’t even care. I’m just
amazed at how the evening took a turn for the better.
There’s a huge banner hanging above the entrance that says, Welcome
Freshmen. Distracted with reading it, I almost collide with my resident
Popping her gum she sticks out her hand and says “Hey, I’m Erin, the RA for your floor and you are?”
Wiping my clammy hands on my jeans I stick out my hand, “Chloe Evans.”
She shakes it, then untucks a clipboard from under her arm and flips
through the attached stack of papers. “Okay…” she runs her fingers over the
pages. “Evans, Chloe… let me see. Here you are. You are in room 306. Third
floor,” she replies cheerily.
“Great. Thank you,” I say. Time to unpack. I head back to my car
to grab a couple of boxes. Heaving two boxes and a bag out of my trunk, I turn
to head up to my dorm when suddenly I lose my grip, my toe hitches on the curb
and just before I face-plant on the concrete, I’m caught by two strong arms
that pull me back to my feet.
For a moment, all I can see are muscular arms covered in tattoos. I
catch a glimpse of the name Matthews written in black Celtic script
running the length of his forearm from below his elbow to his wrist. When I
look up, his striking cobalt blue eyes distract me from my embarrassment. His
jet-black hair looks just long enough for me to run my fingers through it and
I’ll be damned if that’s not exactly what I want to do. His thick lips are
spread wide in a charming smile. His features are strong and his jaw line is
chiseled, softened only by a day’s worth of stubble. He’s the paragon of
Dumbstruck, I flush with embarrassment. I’m staring but who
wouldn’t stare at him? He’s amused; I can see it in his eyes.
– Thank you,” I stutter. Geez, Chloe
could you sound anymore ridiculous, I scold myself. Get your shit together. Despite the cautioning voices in my head, I
hesitate to detach myself from his arms. Somehow I find the strength to step
back just a bit.
“No problem, sweetheart. Next time watch those curbs. I may not
always be around.” He winks and at first I’m speechless, then almost
immediately indignant. “I am not your sweetheart.” I’ve never been a fan of nicknames which is why I’m
so upset at his callous use of one. Just hearing the word ‘sweetheart’ makes me
cringe. That term is not a term of endearment for me. It brings back memories.
Memories that I don’t want unleashed and demons that I don’t want chasing me.
I’ve spent years ridding myself of those dark times and I do not want to go
“Not yet,” he replies. Those two words threaten to make me weak
in the knees. His voice is a dark rich baritone, like an audible dessert. He is
definitely confident and arrogant, I think to myself. Either way, I am ready to
give it back to him.
“Yet? I stare at him questioning with large doe-eyes. I cannot
believe the audacity this guy has. “You’re awful confident for just meeting
me,” I balk.
“I enjoy a challenge princess,” he winks, walking
away. Who the fuck was that? And, what
the hell just happened to me?