Chapter Twenty-Three
GRAYSON
“Next time, I get to break,” Jamal says from my left as he attempts to get another solid into a corner pocket.
Watching how he’s placing his cue stick, I can tell he won’t make it in. Jamal pushes forward, and as I predicted, the ball bounces off the side and comes directly in front of the corner.
“If you think your sad attempt at trying to beat me is from me breaking, then by all means, you can do it in our next game.”
Jamal lets out a dramatic sigh, leaning against the table. “I’m bored.”
I rub my temples. “You only get bored when I’m winning, and you invited me here, not the other way around. So shut up and let me play.”
My friend looks at me, both brows raised, and scoffs. “Meow.What’s got your panties in a twist?”
Lining my stick with the solid red ball, I get it into a center pocket and line myself up to hit another. “It’s been a long week.” More like days filled with thoughts of a certain blonde.
I haven’t seen Emma and have no way to talk to her without getting caught. I know where she lives and works, and I have her email, but the university is always watching it for anythingsuspicious or inappropriate. I don’t plan on sending her a dick pic through email, but shit…I’m not even allowed to ask to see her outside of class without it sounding suspicious.
What idiot forgets to ask for a girl’s number nowadays?
Jamal pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll get us a round of beers and shots.”
I shrug him off and straighten my back. “Dude, I could run into one of my students, and I would rather them not see me drinking. Besides, it’s only four in the afternoon.” Jamal is my closest friend from this neck of the woods, and we’ve known each other since college. He runs a restaurant in Poughkeepsie and is dating a grad student who goes to Driscoll. She’s only two years older than Emma, but, unlike me, he isn’t a professor, so he won’t get any shit for dating someone who’s still in college.
His girlfriend’s also nice and has offered to set me up with some of her friends, only they’re students too. I just can’t seem to get away from them.
“You need to loosen up, Hayes,” he repeats Emma’s words to me. “You’re a young, successful, and good-looking guy who’s single and on the prowl.”
“Please don’t sayon the prowl.” I give him a slight push, laughing and hitting another ball. “Just go get us some drinks.”
He points at me and walks backward. “That’s what I’m talking about!”
As soon as he leaves, I straighten up again then lean against the wooden beam behind me. My neck hurts like a bitch from grading all those papers last night.
That’s what I did on a Friday night. I graded papers, drank a glass of wine, and watched an action movie.
I scrub a hand down my face and groan. What has my life come to? I’m only thirty-one, and I’m already this boring?This lonely?
The thing I’m looking most forward to this weekend is theNYTSunday crossword puzzle. How sad is that?
Jamal rounds the corner with our drinks, and I hold a fingerup, moving to the jukebox in the corner. This is one of the few spots where I can get away from the younger students. The customers are usually grad students and townies. The food is great, and the pool room with two dartboards is even better, offering a slight view of the bar and dining area.
Looking through the jukebox, I find a song that Jamal and I used to sing to in college that would bring out our inner child. It’s a feel-good song and something that could loosen me up.
That and the drinks.
“Life Is a Highway” by Rascal Flatts plays, and Jamal bumps his head, putting the tray of four tequila shots and two beers down.
“Man, it’s been years since I’ve heard this song.”
I nod, agreeing, and raise my shot to clink with his. “To letting loose,” I say before releasing a long breath.
“I’ll drink to that.”
We both down the clear liquid, and I cringe at the taste. “God, I forgot how disgusting that shit is.”
Jamal laughs and points to the salt and lime slices. “You also forgot how to do them properly.”