“too bad you’re not a good cook,” she shoots
back, sticking her tongue out at him. trench
rolls off the pool table and hops down, getting
the pool sticks and gathering up the balls in the
triangle rack. setting them up, she looks up at
him and shrugs softly.
“i dunno, there’s a party i’m probably gonna hit
up on wednesday, wanna come?
that is if uncle george doesn’t drag me along for
another one of these fuckin’ shit shows,” she says
with a scoff. “what about you, babe? any hot date
or anything?”
her eyelashes flutter over at him as she maneuvers
herself over to the opposite end of the table with the
pure white cue ball and hits it hard into the triangle
of spheres, watching them ricochet along the green
felt.
He feigned being hurt, grabbing his chest to
dramatize his reaction. “Ouch Trench, and here
I thought I was the next contestant in America’s
Top Chef.”
Jules watches her arrange the game and
automatically knows their in a game together. He
grabs a stick of his own and just listens to her.
This is their usual routine.
His eyebrows raise in surprise at her invitation.
They’ve yet to hang out outside of work. Not that
he has any reason to turn her down but it’s never
happened. He’s heard a few times about her uncle
but never enough to remember it.
Jules shakes his head silently. There was a lot of
reasons why he didn’t have romantic love interests.
He wasn’t entirely appealing to most pretty girls.
Sometimes he almost felt they were threatened by him.
Mostly it’s because he didn’t try or notice when
they were interested.
“Maybe I’ll come. If we ever get outta here”
He joked, he’d probably go out with her on Wednesday.
In one swift move he leans and pockets a purple four.
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