Page 52 of Powerless
The way he is? It speaks to me. It always has. He’s like a warm blanket that I want to wrap myself up in. And when his eyes are bright and his smile is soft like right now?
Forget it. He’s breathtaking.
“Ready to play?”
“Let’s do it.” My eyes widen. God. What is wrong with me? “Pool. Let’s do the pool.” I hold a hand up. “Play pool. Not do the pool. Ha.” I quickly reach for my beer and take a deep swig while Jasper chuckles at me.
Handsome fucking brain-cell-killing jerk.
“Do I need to cut you off?”
“Shut up, Gervais. Let’s play.”
Fire blazes in his eyes and he stares back at me. “Okay, Sloane. Let’s play.”
15
Sloane
Jasper:Why are you taking so long in there?
Sloane:Giving myself a drunk pep talk.
Jasper:What is that?
Sloane:It’s where I splash water on my face at myself in the mirror. Then I tell me to pull together and be cool.
Jasper:You’re talking to yourself in the women’s bathroom to be . . . cool?
Sloane:Exactly.
Jasper:Sunny. Be less cool. Come save me. The waitress keeps trying to talk to me.
Sloane:So talk to her.
Jasper:I don’t like talking to people.
Sloane:You talk to me.
Jasper:You’re not people.
Sloane:Lmao. What am I then?
Jasper:My person.
“Stop it. I’m already dead.”
He barks out a laugh as he rounds the table and leans over it. Is pool supposed to be sexy? Because Jasper makes it look sexy.
His hard body leans against the green felt top. His veined hands wrap lightly around the cue. The way his eyes narrow like this is a Stanley Cup final or something.
The way that boyish smile lights up his face when I complain about him kicking my ass. I hate losing . . . and yet, to see him smile like that, I’d lose over and over again. I’d sit on a cold roof. I’d dance in the rain. I’d go on a road trip and drink shitty beer and eat greasy foods.
For Jasper I’d do anything. Except actually tell him that.
Because when he turns me down, I’ll break. A million little pieces of me scattered into the wind.
It doesn’t matter that my love for him is pathetic and tragically unrequited.
