5. June #2
“Sorry, boo.” I tilt the stick toward the ceiling and jam it down, popping the ball off the table momentarily, up and over hers to crash into mine, sending it exactly where I want it to go.
I lean across the edge, the stick behind my back, and softly knock my next one in, too.
I clear the rest of the stripes, leaving the eight ball in the corner.
I point at the pocket I’m aiming for and without hesitating, I sink it into its new home.
“You’re literally the worst.” Cora puts her hands on her hips and sighs.
I dig another dollar out of my pocket and hand it to her. “Beginner’s luck.”
She swipes it away and goes to work making change.
I slide onto my seat and gulp the beer in my glass.
A chill runs up my spine, like I’m being watched. But not in a bad way. I scan the crowd until my eyes land on him, that familiar smirk and ink-stained skin. I let out a sigh, the spot between my legs warming at just the sight of him.
He leans on his elbow against the bar, staring right at me.
“Do you know that guy?” Cora asks me.
I shake my head. “Nope, not really.”
“Looks like he knows you.” Her words slur a little.
I hop off the stool.
“Where are you going?” Cora calls out to me.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell her. I point to the table. “Your turn to rack.”
I head straight toward him, not caring at all about the group of girls I have to push through that are trying to get his attention.
“Magnus.” His name rolls off my tongue like honey.
He grins wider. “You know my name.”
“Excuse me.” One of the groupies grabs at my arm.
I shake her off. “Don’t fucking touch me.” I might be intoxicated, but I will fuck a bitch up if they get too handsy.
"Rude," she says under her breath, but not quiet enough.
I turn to her, taking in her minimal clothing choice and the thick layer of makeup on her face. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for female empowerment, but what's happening here is sheer desperation and frankly, it's pathetic.
“What’s rude is you practically begging for attention from someone who clearly isn’t interested in you. What is it, the bottle service you’re after? His money?” I point to a group of older men in the corner. “You’d have better luck over there, sweetheart.”
“I—I…” She frantically tries to come up with a response.
“Listen, I see girls like you every day?—”
But she doesn't let me finish. She huffs, turns on her heel, and storms away toward the bathroom.
“Feisty one,” Magnus says from behind me.
“Guess so.” I face him.
“I was talking about you, not her.” He continues leaning against the bar, his eyes not daring to look away from me. “Let me buy you a drink.”
I chuckle. “That’s not why I came over here.”
“Then why did you?” His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, reminding me of just how badly I wanted to jump his bones earlier.
“To tell you, that you overpaid me earlier.”
A random patron bumps into me, nudging me closer to Magnus.
His hand reaches forward and lands on my waist, steadying me. His liquor-soaked breath dancing in my face.
“What are you drinking?” I step back and out of his grasp.
He picks up his cup and holds it out to me. “Here.”
I take the glass and bring it to my nose. “Hawks Mark?” What are the fucking chances?
“The girl knows her bourbon.” Magnus smiles, exposing those beautiful teeth of his.
How is it possible to be attracted to such a thing? There’s just something about the bubbling energy that pours out of him. There’s this darkness, this bad boy nature with all the tattoos, but then this giddy, happy layer that contradicts it all.
“You could say that.” Plus, the fact that the last two guys I’ve interacted with have drank this same, very specific, incredibly expensive brand.
“Want one?” He raises a brow.
“Too rich for my blood.”
He holds his hand out to call for the bartender.
“No, you don’t have to do that.”
But it’s too late, he’s already ordered me a drink of the same thing he’s having.
“I insist.”
“That’s not why I came over here.” The last thing I want him to think is that I’m anything like the girls lurking around him.
There’s nothing wrong with having guys buy you drinks, but the way these chicks are going about it, it’s like they’re vultures waiting for their moment to strike.
“I know,” he says confidently.
“Do you?”
He changes the subject. “I didn’t get your name.”
“I didn’t offer it.”
Magnus beams. “Making me work for it. I like it.”
“I have to get back to my friend.”
“How about a wager?” Something wild sparks in his blue eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“Play me.” He nods where I came from. “I win, you tell me your name.”
I chuckle. “And when I win?”
“Solid choice of wording…” Magnus winks at me. “Name it. Your wish is my command.”
Oh, the endless things that I would love from this man.
I extend my hand. “You’re on.”
He grabs onto me, giving me a solid and firm shake. His touch is electric and has me ready to skip over the formalities and straight to the part where we rip each other’s clothes off.
“Your friend, does she have the same taste as you?”
It takes me a second to realize he’s referring to booze, not men.
Both of which vary from time to time.
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
Cora might have more money than me, but we’re still broke college students who drink cheap alcohol.
“Very well.” Magnus signals for the bartender again. “Here,” he gives me the expensive drink he ordered for me. “I’ll meet you over there.”
I take it from him and make my way back through the crowd and to an eagerly waiting Cora.
“What the hell was that about?” she asks me the second I’m close enough. “What is that?”
“Um, so…” I hold the drink out to her. “He’s buying us a round. And he challenged me to a game of pool.”
“What’s the wager?” She takes the cup from me, sniffing the contents and sipping it. “Damn, this is smooth.”
Because it’s a hundred dollars a pour.
I glance over my shoulder at him, watching him approach. “He wins, I tell him my name.”
Cora laughs. “Seriously?” She climbs onto the chair and spins the cup around. “I am here for it.” She leans forward. “What do you get when he loses?”
I smile at her, having faith in me that I’ll beat him. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Oh, this is going to be interesting.”
“Princess.” Magnus advances, giving me my drink.
“I’m sorry, what?” I shake my head. “No.”
He reaches forward, twisting a strand of my hair around his finger. “You won’t tell me your name, what else should I call you?” He brushes his thumb against my cheek. “It’s fitting though. Don’t you think?”
“Hardly.” I glare at him through my lashes.
He turns to Cora. “Hi, princess’s friend. I’m Magnus.”
“Cora.” She holds up her cup. “Thanks, for this. It’s delicious.”
“Of course.”
I eye the drink in my grasp. “How do I know you didn’t roofie this?”
“You don’t.” He takes it from me, pressing his lips against the rim and sipping it. “But, if I did, we’ll be drugged together.”
I shudder a sigh at his lush mouth on the glass, wishing it was pressed against my body instead.
“Shall we?” He points to the ready table.
“You in a hurry to get your ass kicked?” I grin at him and wait for his smart-ass reply I know damn well is coming.
“Cocky little shit, aren’t you?”
“You scared?” I savor the taste of the bourbon and set the glass next to Cora’s before I stride past him and pick up my pool stick.
“Never.”
And with that one word, it’s like he’s saying so much all at once. There’s a darkness about him, just hovering under the surface, and I am dying to explore it.
“Go ahead, princess.” He walks by me to get his own stick from the wall.
“You’re going to regret calling me that,” I whisper on my way around him.
“Don’t tempt me with a good time.” He plucks one from the selection and turns to watch me break.
I get into position, eyeing him for the slightest second before cracking the stick into the cue ball. It makes a thundering sound and sends balls all over the table, but none of them land in a pocket.
Fuck. That never happens.
Of course, when I actually need to win, I play a shit game.
I maintain my composure, going over to where Cora sits, and sipping my drink.
“What the hell, J?” she says quiet enough for only me to hear.
“It’s fine.” Although maybe the booze really is affecting my skills negatively.
Magnus raises an eyebrow at me, a stupid grin on his face like he’s eating this up. “I’ll go easy on you, princess.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.” Oh wait, did I say that out loud?
He glides over to the side, sinking two solid balls back-to-back without much effort. I study the shape his ink-stained body takes with each move, wishing he’d work me like he is that table.
Magnus takes his time on the third but manages to land it, too, positioning himself perfectly for the fourth. Only, instead of knocking it in, the ball taps the edge of the pocket and bounces away from the hole. That’s what he gets for being overly confident.
His jaw tenses but he doesn’t give much else away. “Your turn, princess.”
His persistence with the pet name is a weak attempt at getting under my skin. It's annoying, just not enough to take away from my desire to beat him.
I analyze my options, playing through them in my mind, and coming up with the best strategy. The safest, most aggressive one I can manage.
Magnus comes up from behind me and places his hand on my waist, leaning down to whisper into my ear. “You need some help?”
I turn to look up at him, his gorgeous face only a breath away from mine. “I could ask you the same thing.”
For the smallest second, it’s me and him, and no one else. Not the loud music blaring in the background, or the wandering eyes of the drunk people. Not even Cora, who I know is watching us intently from her spot half-boozed up a few feet away. I’m weirdly drawn to him and I can’t really explain it.
It’s not like me to get hung up on a guy. Let alone three men. In a matter of a few days.
Magnus brushes his lips against my cheek. “Better do your worst, princess.” He steps back, giving me space to take my shot.
And that I do.
He thought he would unravel me with his seduction, but all it did was focus me.