Page 10 of Fun Together (Make Romance #1)

Thanks to my pool shark of a grandpa, I’ve been playing since I was tall enough to see over the table. I’m surprised he remembers us playing. “That’s all part of the pretending, I guess.”

“Then let the pretending begin.” His thumb grazes the inside of my shoulder blade for the few seconds it takes to guide us over to the table.

He hands me a stick before racking the balls. “You want to break?”

“No, you go ahead.”

I watch him bend down to line up his shot, forearms flexing as he glides the stick over his hand. With a crack, the balls scatter on the table. “Should we play nine ball?”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

I bend down to line up my shot, and feel him move to stand behind me.

“May I?” he asks.

I nod and feel the heat of his chest at my back. He places a hand over mine so that he can guide me where I need to aim. My hair stirs against my cheek as he asks, “Is this how they do it in the movies?”

“Yep, that’s . . . exactly it,” I squeak.

“What usually happens next?” I can hear the smile in his voice without even having to look.

I can’t help but look anyway, and sure enough I see a grin that I know means he’s having fun with this. I knew he’d be a good partner in crime for this faux-flirting game.

“I think I should hit the ball now. With your guidance.”

“Like this?” He guides my hand back and forth a few times to line up the shot before giving a final, forceful jab that knocks the number one ball into the pocket.

He doesn’t move away, though. “Nice shot. Now what?”

I swallow. “Since I made the shot, I get to shoot again.”

I feel his chuckle against my back. “I know that. I mean, what’s next for the flirting?”

“Oh, um, I think you’re supposed to whisper something romantic in my ear.”

He leans further in, so close I can feel his lips move against my cheek. “You smell so good, it’s distracting.”

I don’t move a muscle. “What do I smell like?”

He guides my hand for another shot, but it doesn’t go in. Standing up straight, he says, “Like warm blueberry Pop-Tarts straight from the toaster.”

I snort and bat him away. “Blueberry Pop-Tarts? You can do better than that.”

He steps over to take his own shot. I’m momentarily mesmerized by the strong, yet gentle, motion of his arms. The stick strikes the cue ball, sending the two ball into the pocket.“What? I’m flirting.”

“No one likes blueberry Pop-Tarts, though. Strawberry? Acceptable. S’mores? God-tier.”

He misses his next shot. “Well, I like blueberry.”

“Fine. I’ll accept blueberry.” I take my turn again, and the act of play returns so naturally, I make four more shots.

While I try to determine my next move, he moves next to me, propping one arm on the table. “I think something is missing from our little charade.”

“What is that?” I feel his eyes on me, watching me continue to play.

“It’s just that I’m doing a lot of the heavy lifting here. You’re not pretending to flirt with me, too.”

I move to stand closer to him. “How do you like to be flirted with?”

He pauses, as if thinking of the perfect response. “You could compliment me. That’s always nice.”

I roll my eyes. “Fishing for compliments?”

He grins. “Always.”

My eyes glide up and down his arm, so close to mine that I can feel his body heat against my own skin. “I like your tattoos. How long have you had them?”

“Thank you. Most of them are a few years old. This one is my oldest.” He points to a heart on his bicep. “Got this right after I moved.”

“Do they mean anything?”

“Most were spur-of-the-moment, no huge meaning behind them other than I just felt like getting one.” I like this about him. He felt like doing a thing, so he did it.

“Did you know I have a tattoo?” It’s a tiny daisy just below my left hip bone. I got it in a brief moment of rebellion when I was seventeen.

He raises his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? What is it?”

“A daisy.”

“ Where is it?”

I put on my best sassy flirty voice. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He barks out a laugh. “Now she’s pulling her weight, ladies and gentlemen.”

He makes it so easy. I think I could pretend to flirt with him all night and it wouldn’t even feel taxing at all. He looks at me for a second that stretches like molasses.

I look away first, and take my next shot. It’s not long before I win the game.

“Look at you, hustling me.”

“Not true. You knew I could play.”

“I thought we were playing pretend.”

It felt real . I’ve been having genuine fun with him and that sends a crashing realization through me. This can’t be real.

I glance over to Rett and she’s watching us like a hawk. She gives me a look that asks if I’m okay. I smile and give her a little Ok hand sign. She mouths the word kiss to me and I shake my head and look away.

Eli looks down at me with a quirk of his brow. “What was that about?”

Maybe it’s the tequila, or the burst of confidence I feel from the pool game, but I suddenly don’t want the night to end. “I may not have mentioned everything I need to accomplish tonight before I can go home.”

“Something else I can help with?”

What could it hurt if it’s just pretend? The flirting went well, so might as well finish what I’ve started. “Any chance you’d be down to pretend to kiss me, too?”