I will. And his smirk grew wider. He was making a joke – one in poor taste, but she hadn’t thought so, noticing the way her eyes traced over his features. She was avoiding looking directly at his mouth, but studied around it, making him more amused. He felt like he had the upper hand; he was more sober, more controlled, focusing his energy on the game instead of the girl, but she’d surprised him. He hadn’t expected a forward response, or anything more than a giggle, something to indicate that she heard and was embarrassed by the truth, but she’d given in. The boost to his ego made it feel like he could win this thing, the male a little too competitive for a match with low stakes. But if he’d paid the extra $7.50 to get here, he might as well make it worth it. “Dr. Phil’s been on the air longer,” he countered, ignoring the thought of her in a wet t-shirt. He should’ve taken a drink to the table, needing something to focus on when the conversation shifted.
He was acutely aware of her purposeful behavior – the chalk, the hip, the arch of her spine, but he focused instead on the shot and predicting where the colored balls would move. “Four and a half – and could you even reach?” It was his turn and he mimicked her actions, exaggerating her behavior to elicit a laugh before straightening his poster and taking his turn. He was able to knock one in, his smile turning triumphant as he turned towards her, raising his palms in a shrug. “You sure you don’t need someone to show you how it’s done?”
His first mistake: misinformation. “Hah! You’re wrong. Maury’s been on since the 90s, pal. A lot longer than Phil.” That was a win in and of itself. “And Maury’s more iconic. You’re the one that started this, remember? ‘You are not the father.’” Peter had set himself up to fail. Or, maybe Fliss was: pool probably wasn’t the best idea this far into the night. Not a serious match, anyway. And this was about winning. Schooling his ass. Alcohol gave her confidence here, not a clear win. But even if she couldn’t score at pool, she’d try scoring elsewhere. Keep at it, see how far they could go. How far Peter would go before he’d crack. Two birds (games), one stone.
Just ‘cause this was a competition, of sorts, doesn’t mean she couldn’t laugh, right? Felicity wasn’t one for holding back. When Peter started playing around, Fliss giggled, cue close to her mouth to hide a smile. “Don’t make me come up there.” She leaned off the pool table, close to his body. So tall that she had to completely crane her neck to look up at him. Saw the slight stubble that covered his chin. How bright and pink his lips were, even in the low-light of the wine bar. Felicity lingered as he took his shot. He sunk a ball, and the victory was evident in his stance and dimpled smile. “Please, I set that up for you.” He got an extra turn for knocking one in the hole. Fliss used this to her advantage. “Mhm, you don’t mind using your turn to help out lil’ ol’ me?” Tilted her jaw to motion him over. Leaned down, the cue sliding in between her fingers. “Show me.” Beckoned him over to adjust her position, to show her how it was done.
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