Page 15 of This I Promise You
Once he gets out of my way, I get into position. I aim my pool stick down the table toward the perfectly placed set of balls and lean over the table. But it feels so weird. Like this is normal, leaning over the table to take my shot, but I feel like everyone is staring at my ass, at least whatever little ass that’s back there.
Just play pool.
* * *
Only the eight ball is left on the table, thanks mostly to Aidan and me. I think Huxley might have gotten two in, but the only ball Paul managed to get in, I had to set him up with a little baby shot.
It’s on me. If I get this, Paul and I win. If I don’t, and Aidan manages it, we lose. And I do not want to hear about losingwithPaul from my best friend for the next month.
“You got this, dude! Don’t fuck it up. We can’t let them win.”
You’d think this was a super tense game of basketball the way Paul’s been into the last few shots. And his “hyping” isn’t helping; like for one I need to be able to hate this guy, but it’s so endearing.
“I’ve got it, would you shut up?” I eye him and then turn back to the table and line up my shot. “I’m calling the left edge pocket.”
“Corner pocket.” Paul corrects.
“Who made you the expert?” I huff, losing concentration. “Let me focus.”
I set up again. I wish I could say it was one of those moments when everything slows down and the people around me go quiet, but none of that nonsense happens, because this is a goddamn game of pool. But I’m ready. I’m going to make this shot. I breathe and go for it. The white ball jolts forward and clanks against the eight ball. It shoots off and falls perfectly in the leftcornerpocket.
“Yes!” I yell, a little too loud for the middle of the Student Union.
“YEEEEES! You fucking did it! WE WIN!”
“Hell yes!” I’m jumping and shouting. Then I grab the closest person to me and hug them and we’re both jumping. “We did it! Take that, A!”
That’s when I realize it’s Paul’s arms around my waist as we’re jumping in celebration.
“Uhhhh…” he says at the same time I realize what we’re doing. He lets go of me.
“Oh shit, sorry.” I jump away, dropping my pool stick and trying not to look at him. But I can’t help it.
“It’s cool. Whatever. Um, yeah. Cool, cool, cool.” Paul’s nodding his head quickly and looking at his feet.
“Yeah, of course.” I nod as I realize how nice his arms felt now that they’re gone. I try to remind myself he’s an asshole. “Totally cool.”
“I think my work here is done.”
My eyes dart to Huxley and I let out a defeated breath. Seriously?
Paul
Girls Night In
“How long are you going to keep this up?”
“What the— Holy shit! Keep what up?” I’m sitting atmydesk inmyroom, vibing to Blake Rose and working on homework. Huxley just showed up outta nowhere. She’s leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded all aloof and chill like she didn’t just scare the shit outta me. Guess she was right, she does do that a lot.
She looks good today. But then again, she always looks good. Her hair is big and curly and her makeup is flawless. I’m wearing black short shorts and a white wife beater, but she’s wearing a matching violet velvet sweatsuit. Probably something from boohoo. boohooMAN makes up 75 percent of my closet, so I know the brand well. Or it’s Gucci. What do I know? If I wasn’t gay with trauma, I would probably try to date her. She’s gorg. “I haven’t done anything, Huxley.”
“That is exactly my point, Paul. You’ve done nothing since we moved in. The last time we had a decent conversation was when we first met and—”
“I’d hardly call that decent.”
“Point. Again. We’re roommates now and I’d like for us to be friends, too. You’re stuck with me and I don’t even for real know you outside of your lack of communication skills—even though you’re an English major—and your anger issues. So spill.”
“Uhhhhh…” I don’t know what to say, so I change the subject back to her. “Well, don’t get fucking mad at me for not talking when all you do isnotgo to class and read your damn books.”
