Page 58 of Reaching Avery
He didn’t pocket anything on his second try, so it was my turn.
Normally, I was great at blocking out distractions when I played, but having Avery in my line of vision made it hard to concentrate. As I leaned down to make my next shot, all I could see was him straight ahead: his long, dark hair, his amazing black lined eyes, the thickness of his bottom lip and how his top lip had that sexy little curve in the center.
I hit the cue ball too hard and sent it crashing into the group of balls on the right side of the table, causing all of them to go all different ways. I ended up pocketing one of his.
“Crap,” I muttered, shaking my head and standing upright once more.
Avery smirked, and I got the wild notion that he’d stood directly across from me on purpose. As if he knew he was a distraction. It occurred to me that he also wasn’t as clueless as he’d put off too. He’d watched—and studied—several games between me and Ben, so he must’ve had a good idea of how the game worked.
Ah, this boy is playing dirty.
It was like the shark circling the bait. The shark believed he had the advantage, but above the bait was the hunter toying with his prey… and Avery was the hunter.
