“What a good sport you are.” I collected the balls and arranged them in a pyramid shape inside the rack. Then I grabbed the chalk and twisted it over my pool cue tip.
I removed the rack, lined up my shot, and broke.
Three striped balls went into pockets.
“What the—” Owen said, startled.
“Lucky break,” I said with a grin.
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” he said darkly.
“Oh, I will.” I moved around the table, sizing up which shot would be the easiest to make. This was going to befun.
“Eleven in the left corner pocket.” I steadied my bridge hand, held the pool cue level, and let muscle memory take over.
I’d spent months perfecting each individual shot. I’d set up every shot scenario I could think of and drilled those shots until I hit them with near-perfect accuracy.
The bank shot hit the side of the table across from me, rebounded toward the left corner, and knocked in the ball with the red stripe. The eleven that I’d called.
“Motherfucker,” Owen growled under his breath.
I had to make this fast. Before Owen got smart and called off the bet. I systematically sank shots one after the other until only the eight ball was left.
Luckily, the guys were too stunned to make a run for it. They watched the massacre playing out, unable to look away. Unfortunately, they weren’t the only ones. We’d gained a small crowd. This was a crappy way to keep my pool skills on the down-low. I should have worked the table slowly, let Owen think he was going to win, then pulled the rug out from under him.
I’d let my desire to show up these guys get the better of me. I wouldn’t be hustling anyone on campus after this.
Well, whatever. There were always other places to play pool. Not like college kids had a lot of cash on them most days, anyway.
I sank the last shot and picked up the bills.
“You asshole,” Owen snarled. “That wasn’t a fair bet.”
I stuffed the bills into my back pocket. “You bet on me being bad at pool. You were wrong. You lost.”
He glowered. “You played me.”
I smirked. “Like a fiddle.”
He took a threatening step forward, but there were too many people watching for him to take a swing. Owen wasn’t the first guy I’d enraged over a pool table. That was half the fun for me.
So many people underestimated me. They saw me as young and naïve. Poor. Powerless.
But I was only one of those things, and wiping the floor with them was the quickest way to prove it.
I saw it in Owen’s eyes, right alongside the fury. I’d humiliated him, taken his money, and done it with style. Hard not to respect that, even when you’re at its mercy.
Seb pushed through the crowd. “Dude, that was amazing. How did you get so damn good at pool?”
I shrugged. “Lots of practice. My brothers and I hang out at a pool hall close to our house. Well, we used to, anyway.”
Before they’d started coupling up—before Gray returned home—Axel and I had gone over there damn near every night of the week. The regulars quickly learned not to lay any bets against me in pool, but they got a kick out of watching me school newcomers. I’d won my first game at thirteen, and I’d been hooked ever since.
“Shit, man,” Seb said. “That wasawesome.But did you see those guys’ faces? I’d watch your back.”
I laughed. “Not the first time I’ve heard that.”
Seb and I went to the pizza kiosk and ordered two pies—Owen’s treat—then headed out to Sebastian’s car.
