Page 57 of Reaching Avery
“You’re up,” I said to Avery. “Think you can take me on?”
Now that the attention was on him, Avery reverted back to his standoffish posture. “No thanks. I’ll just watch you guys play.”
I wanted to argue and try to convince him, but I figured it was a lost cause. For now.
Ben shrugged and faced me. “A re-match?”
“Sure you can handle getting your ass kicked again?” I said, lifting a brow.
We started our second game, and I realized that Ben was a pretty great guy to hang out with. Not just because he was friends with Avery, but because he was kind of my friend too now. He talked about his life some in between shots, and I talked about mine.
The waitress came back around and re-filled our sodas, and I ordered another large basket of fries.
Avery didn’t say much, and I felt bad. I didn’t want him to feel like he was being excluded. So, three games—and victories—later, I asked him again if he wanted to play.
“I… I don’t know how,” he answered before looking at his legs and playing with a thread near his knee.
“I can teach you,” I said, and when he glanced up, meeting my eyes, my heart skipped a beat. “And I promise to go easy on you.”
Avery smiled and slowly stood. He gripped his forearm as he approached, and his awkwardness triggered my protectiveness again.
I just wanted to wrap my arms around him and protect him from the world. Or at least protect him from whatever demons were in his head, the ones that made him see threats everywhere he went.
“Okay,” he said once he was about a foot away. “How do I play?”
A sense of… something… went through me, and I smiled at him. “First, I need to rack.” After grabbing the triangle, I put the balls inside of it, explaining to him how they should be organized—eight ball in the middle, and depending on your preference, the balls should be set up solid, stripes, and so forth. “Do you want to try to break?”
“Is that where you hit them all and make them scatter?” he asked, looking up at me with big, curious eyes. I could only nod. He was too freaking hot, and I forgot how to talk. “I think you should do it. I’ll just screw it up.”
“No, you won’t,” I countered, moving the triangle to tighten the balls in place before lifting it. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
Avery came with me to the other end of the table, and I chalked the end of the stick before handing it to him. He looked unsure as he took it, but I offered him a reassuring smile, which seemed to relax him some.
Even though he was more at ease, I still got the impression he didn’t like to be touched, so I explained how to hold the stick by demonstrating with my own. He nodded as I talked and positioned his hand the way I did.
“Think you got it?” I asked, peering down at him and trying not to think too much about how close he was.
He nodded and leaned down, lining up his shot. The first time he hit the cue ball, he didn’t hit it hard enough and it rolled a few inches before stopping. Avery’s shoulders slumped as he gave a barely audible sigh.
“That’s okay,” I encouraged him, not wanting him to lose confidence. “The first time I tried to break, I hit the cue ball way too hard and sent it flying upward. It hit the light above the table and smashed the dang thing.”
Ben snorted from his spot at the small table. “Okay, I officially feel much better about my own first time.”
My lips twitched at his words. My mind needed to get out of the gutter.
Avery—still crouched down—tilted his head to look at me. “Did you really?”
“Yeah,” I answered and gave a short laugh. “It was pretty embarrassing.”
When he tried breaking again, he did great. Most of the balls broke from the center, and he pocketed both a solid and a stripe.
“What does that mean?” he asked, straightening his stance.
“You get to choose whether you want solids or stripes,” I answered, hoping he’d go with the former. I had a thing with being stripes. It was kind of a good luck thing for me.
Avery’s blue eyes watched me a moment before he concentrated on the table. “Solid.”
I smiled, getting the feeling he’d somehow known my weird preference. Instead of choosing the one he knew I wanted, and possibly getting the upper hand because of it, he’d been cool about it. Or perhaps all of that was just in my head, and he’d had no idea.
