Pool Champion

MILES

The house was on the nicer side of town, which meant three damn bus rides for me—my wallet reeling with every stop. It would’ve been two, but I had to pause and patch up my knees first. They’d busted open when I fell, and bloody knees aren’t exactly party accessories. Gauze patches looked ugly, but at least they were better than a face full of blood.

I trudged from the bus stop, walking at least two miles to reach the mansion at the given address. An uneasy feeling gnawed at me as I approached the place—a sprawling mansion that could’ve easily been a fucking castle with its imposing brick wall. I couldn’t fathom how Kenzie managed to get into a party at a place like this. Hanging out with a bunch of rich pricks in an ancient 1800s home? That wasn’t my scene. I pulled out my phone to text Kenzie that there was absolutely no way I was attending this party.

Maybe I could make it to the diner and work a shift.

They were open 24 hours a day—so I could let Sandra go home to her babies.

Before I could hit send, I heard Kenzie in the distance.

"There's my girl!"

My head snapped up. Kenzie was barreling toward me, her short red hair bobbing, and her round lips stretching into a bright smile. When she reached me, she pulled me into a tight embrace. I tried not to wince as she squeezed me—though I must've failed, because she quickly released me and searched my eyes. I think I gave her something between a smile and a grimace.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded. Kenzie was more like a mother to me than my own. She’d been my best friend since third grade—ever since she punched Chance Porter for pulling my hair.

Kenzie was the most beautiful person I knew, inside and out. Her pale green eyes complemented her almond-brown skin perfectly.

"Nothing," I answered, trying to sound innocent.

She crossed her arms and squinted at me suspiciously. "That bitch did it again, didn't she?"

I didn’t answer, instead glancing over at the mansion looming behind her. "How did you get into a party like this, and why did you think I'd wanna come?" I asked, disinterested. "I should've grabbed a book."

She rolled her pretty green eyes at me. "Nice try. I know something happened—but fine, we can deflect for now. But you will tell me by the end of the night!" She pointed her finger for emphasis.

I nodded once and gave a firm, "Yes, ma'am!" before smiling. Kenzie draped her arm over my shoulder—thankfully, I managed not to wince this time—and led me inside.

Guilt settled deep in my chest. Kenzie always wanted to help. She cared about me more than anyone; honestly, she was probably the only one who truly cared. She was my favorite person.

"Conner, the college guy, invited me. There are also a few people from school here. I'm honestly surprised you didn't hear about it," she confided.

"You're the only person I talk to, Kenzie."

She opened her mouth to protest but then closed it again. "That's true." She squeezed me, though it hurt, and added, "But I don't like sharing anyways!"

I gave her a once-over. "You look great." She wore a black leather skirt paired with a lacy black corset—a stark contrast to my very casual, plain outfit.

"Thanks, boo! I like your sexy cowgirl fit, too."

Is that what she thought I was going for? I mentally sighed, wishing I could just turn around and go home.

We walked through the imposing double doors of the mansion. The foyer was bustling with people. Laughter and loud music filled the space, and the marble floors were so polished I could see my reflection—an ugly reminder of who I was supposed to be.

To my right, a parlor room buzzed with drinkers and a few heated make-out sessions. To the left, a large hall opened into a living room where people danced with wild abandon.

"Pretty nice, right? Now come on! Let's get lit, bitch!" she hollered.

I laughed as Kenzie led me through room after room, handing me shots and mixed drinks. After three shots and a couple of mixed drinks, I was on a good buzz—then the alcohol took over, and soon I was almost drunk.

The buzz was a welcome distraction from the constant numbness I felt. Even though Kenzie dragged me from room to room, nothing really registered: not the laughter that spilled from my mouth, not the sway of my hips, not even the idle chatter about a college guy's invitation whose name I couldn’t recall.

After a while, we found ourselves in a game room.

"Alright! Who wants to challenge the pool champion for a chance to win some money?!" a voice boomed.

Pool? I stumbled through the crowd, swaying toward the challenge. There, next to a beautiful pool table, stood a man with shaggy brown hair and a shit-eating grin, casually waving several hundred-dollar bills.

Before I could think, I raised my hand. "Me! I'll do it!"

The man arched his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, well, well, little lady, we don't discriminate—so come on up!" he drawled.

I giggled; the alcohol had my head fuzzy.

He looked me up and down, his tone questioning. "You sure you're still game, little lady?" He wanted to know if I was sober enough for his challenge.

I ran my finger along the top rail of the table. It was beautiful—crafted from slate with vintage charm. I smirked and tilted my head, letting him know I was definitely still in it. I could play pool in my sleep.

"It's a hundred to enter," he announced.

I gaped. That much? Did he think we were made of money? I almost smacked my head in disbelief. Of course, he did—we were in a mansion. Rolling my eyes, I pulled out my old, worn leather wallet and slapped 40 bucks on the table.

"It's all I got, but I guarantee I'll win," I challenged.

The man laughed, raising an eyebrow as if he was scanning the crowd behind me. I caught whispers about how the hell I ended up at such a party.

Finally, he met my eyes and said, "Challenge accepted."

I smiled wide and extended my hand. "The name's Miles, and you are?"

He took my hand, and to my shock, placed a kiss on my fingers. "Marcus," he greeted, his hazel eyes—almost green—locking with mine.

"I look forward to beating you," I said confidently.

Marcus chuckled. "Oh, I'm not the one you're playing."

I tilted my head, confused. "What? Then who—"

"That'll be me," said a deep voice from behind me. My heart skipped a beat as I turned around.

There, at the far end of the pool table, stood the most handsome man I'd ever seen. Everything seemed to slow down as an unfamiliar intensity erupted in my chest—a cocktail of anxiety and terror, yet compelling in its rawness. I was drawn to him immediately. He was like bait, and I was the fish.

His eyes were golden like honey, framed by thick lashes and brows so dark his irises seemed to glow. His dark hair was swept back, with a few loose strands caressing his forehead. A five-o'clock shadow softened his chiseled jawline, and his lips… oh, his lips were dangerously inviting.

Kenzie practically leaped to my side in a flash. "Oh no," she gasped, gripping my arm. "That's Dominic Black, the owner of this house."

I hadn’t known who Dominic Black was, but I faced him regardless. I extended my hand. "Miles," I said, trying to sound cool.

His sunset eyes bore into my hand, then lifted to meet my gaze.

Fuck me.

Why did I find that so sexy?

Kenzie tugged on my arm, pulling me away as the weight of the moment crashed over me.