He turned slightly toward the pool table, moving my body with his. His strong fingers stroked over my hand as he shifted my grasp on the stick. “Right there,” he said, his voice huskier than before. “Keep the cue straight, pull it back, and push forward hard.
I did as he instructed, and the ball glided into the corner pocket. “It went in! Thank you!” I turned and threw my arms around his neck. I quickly pulled away, my face flushed, almost as surprised as him by the hug.
“You did it,” he said, his voice still husky. Gravelly. So damn sexy.
“Well, we did it. Can—uh…”
“You want me to help you again?”
“Yes.” Did my voice sound different too?
Dylan stepped in again. This time, his arms wrapped around me, moving my body with his.
Crack.
The cue ball shot forward, sending the other balls flying, one into the pocket directly in front, another ricocheting off the side into the pocket closer to us.
“Two balls in!” I yelled.
“You’re amazing!” Dylan said, his smile huge. He was so close to me, we’d only have to move the slightest bit to kiss.
I jumped with a little cheer, excited to be here with him, flirting and talking and playing. And, somehow, everything was going so right.
Crack.
This time it wasn’t the sound of the balls. It was the sound—the feel—of the cue stick hitting the ceiling. My eyes followed the stick up to the dime-sized chalk-blue divot in the ceiling.
Tears sprang to my eyes, and I tried hard to blink them back. This beautiful bar. It had welcomed me in, and what did I do?
“Hey, it’s okay.”
I shook my head and turned away, hiding my tears. I hated how easily I cried. I knew it was silly and I was overreacting, but I’d felt so normal, so comfortable and happy, I’d almost forgotten that this was the kind of thing I usually did.
Dylan didn’t let me hide, though. He stepped in front of me and put a finger under my chin, gently lifting my face to his. “It’s okay,” he repeated, kindly yet firmly. “Look.” He released my face and took the cue from me, and then he took my hand in his. He pointed both our hands to the wall. “See that crack?”
I obediently looked at the crack on the wall and nodded. It wasn’t the same, though. Whoever did that was probably playing when it happened, at least.
“And there, and there.” He pointed out other cracks and dents in the walls and ceiling. “It’s no big deal, happens all the time. No one will notice one more dent among the rest of them. Okay?”
“Okay.” I forced a smile back onto my face. I couldn’t deny his earnest expression.
“You good?” He studied me intently, and I tried to relax, to get back into the easy flirting we were enjoying just a few minutes earlier.
“Yeah, let’s keep playing. I think I was about to win.”
He laughed, and we went back to the game, but I was more nervous and awkward now. Still, he soon had me laughing for real again. Even when our friends came over and we all took turns playing, Dylan stuck by my side. Instead of feeling self-conscious, I felt like the luckiest girl at the bar. With Dylan and me playing as one, his hands wrapped around mine, I was a fucking superstar.
“Thank you for coming out for my birthday! I had the best time!” Nicky’s colleague burst out, drawing my attention away from Dylan.
What? How was the night over already? I looked around, desperately hoping she was the only one leaving, but everyone was taking her cue and getting ready to go. My eyes snapped back to Dylan. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him.
Dylan held my gaze, his eyes warm and soft, and he ran his fingers down my jaw.
“Juliette,” he murmured.
I could barely breathe. Was he going to ask for my number? Kiss me? Or just thank me for a fun night?
Please don’t thank me and walk away.