Page 147 of Homewrecker

He moved it. “Uh-uh.”

My mouth fell open. “Give me my shit.”

“You need water.”

“I actually need another shot.”

I tried reaching across him for my glass and he held it farther away.

“Nash.”

“Water.”

“NASH!”

He laughed so hard he bent forward and I started hitting his arm.

I was having real fun. My cheeks were hurting from smiling and laughing. I even forgot to check my phone.

“Take a picture by the scoreboard,” I told Nash.

“No.”

“Nash.”

“No.”

“Why? I need the proof to show that you lost.”

“I haven’t lost.”

I looked at the score. “Are we looking at the same numbers?”

“We have another game.”

“You think I’m playing again?”

“Yes.”

“My arm hurts.”

“You haven’t rolled that many damn balls.”

I crossed my arms. “And?”

He stood and grabbed my hand.

“Nash!”

He pulled me from the seat and I stumbled directly into his chest. His hands found their way around my waist while mine found his chest.

His eyes dropped to my mouth. “Are you drunk?” he asked.

“Tipsy.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Absolutely.”