Page 52 of I See Red

“Alexa, play 90s summer jams on Pandora,” I shout, teasing him, my nose curled up, knowing damn well he never takes our Budweiser days for granted. His shimmy behind the bar confirms his excitement.

“You know it’s always on tap, princess. Budweiser day, huh? It’s been a while since our last one, and if I remember correctly, it took you three days to recover.”

“Then maybe this time we do a little more cardio before we pass out so I can burn more of the alcohol out of my system then.”

“We broke the fucking bed last time,on round five. I’m pretty sure you burned more than possible. It’s okay. I’ll take care of you; I always do.” Grabbing his lucky Patriots Super Bowl championship hat from the bar, sliding it on backwards, I drink him in.Those grey sweatpants, that fucking hat, fuck Liam.Closing the distance between us, reaching out, I grab my beer with just the perfect amount of head from his hand as our glasses clink.

“You always do. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

“Now, are you ready to get your ass wiped up and down this pool table?” I tease, knowing damn well that my words are one hundred percent true. He may be amazing at everything he touches, but pool has always been my championship, especially with him. Growing up, it seemed no matter where I landed, there was always a pool table. I started so young, and with no life or friends, I found comfort in the stability and consistency of the game. Who doesn’t like breaking some balls? As I got older, it became a great party trick to pick up men, so I’m seasoned, but knowing him, in just a few minutes, he’s going to try to convince himself he even has a shot, like he does every other Budweiser day, to only lose every damn time. I find his persistence endearing, though. His game has certainly improved since we started dating, but he has the best teacher.

“Yah, yah, this one is mine.”

“Like the last one and the one before that for every Budweiser day we’ve ever had for six years now?”

“You never remember it correctly, princess. I haven’t lost them all.”

“Ummm, I’m pretty sure you have. That old age must be getting to you. What are we betting this time?”

“Ha, old? Thirty-three isn’t old. Nothing, today it’s just us, the 90s vibes, fun, and a W for Team Maddox.”

“Yeah, keep dreaming; it’s cute, though.”

“What’s cute?” he questions.

“That you actually think you can beat me, it’s cute,false, but cute.” I shrug.

“Eventually, the student always beats the teacher. You’ll eat your words by dusk or the toilet calling dinosaurs; either way, I’m taking the W.”

“Alright, alright, tough guy, you going to break those balls before I break yours?”

“Ladies first.”

“Yeah, that’s why I told you to go,” I taunt him, bringing my beer to my lips, my nose curling in my humor, and it works. Before I can even place my glass down, he’s chasing me around the table, and I’m running for my life to avoid his tickles. Both of us darting back and forth on opposing sides of the table. I fake left and run right in a desperate attempt to make it to the hallway, but I’m short just a few feet before he swoops me up from behind with one arm by my waist, my legs kicking and arms flailing as his fingers dig into my sides tickling me relentlessly.

“I told you, I’ll always catch you, Miss Reed.”

“Okay, okay, you win.” I yelp between my words, my laughs intermixed with snorts. His tickles driving me wilder by the minute.

“Point proven. Let me down, Liam,” I object.

Granting me freedom, my feet find comfort in the floor as he squeezes me tightly. His nose nestles in my neck, and I can’t help but love these little moments between us.

“I’ll never let you down. If I ever do, I promise to always find a way to fix it.”

“I know you will,ever and ever—Amen;it means something, remember?”

“Yeah, it does.” Spinning me around, his hands brush through the sides of my hair, his palms one with the flesh of my warm cherry-stained cheeks, as his scruff brushes against my lips. His nose giving me the best Eskimo kisses ever before he pulls my lips to his. He’s gentle, his kiss soft, his lips perfect. No words are traded, just Sublime and Santeria in the background.

“I feel the break, feel the break,” he softly sings on my lips, swaying our hips back and forth to the music. I know what he’s really trying to say; he wants me to break the balls meticulously racked on the side of the table.

“Yah, yah, I get it. I’ll break the balls.”

“Break ‘em good, my brown-eyed girl. I don’t want you going easy on me. I want to relish in my victory against you, every fucking pocket of it.”

“Keep dreaming. I’m going to make this one hurt.”

---