We've Been Hustled

The first bar they hit was loud and sticky, the air buzzing with music and laughter. Freddy hustled them into a game of darts with two frat boys—Chase and Ethan, both cocky in their backward caps and college hoodies.

Freddy squinted at the board and let her dart fly. It bounced off the edge and landed in someone’s abandoned nachos.

Ethan howled with laughter. “A bold strategy, Freddy!”

“Guess I’ll try to keep it on the board.”

Gemma tried not to laugh. She stepped up, feeling the familiar weight of the dart in her hand, the memory of a hundred slow nights at KT Spirits sharpening her aim. She threw—bullseye.

Ethan whistled. “Beginner’s luck?”

Gemma shrugged, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “Wanna bet?”

Three throws later, the boys were groaning and Freddy was laughing. “Damn, girl,” Freddy said, slinging an arm around Gemma’s shoulders. “You are full of surprises.”

Gemma just grinned, a blush warming her cheeks. She’d never been the center of attention like this before—at home, she’d always been the quiet one, the observer. But here, in the neon glow, she felt different. 

True to their word, the frat boys bought each of them a round of shots. Freddy, emboldened by the win and the cheap tequila, leaned over the bar and flirted shamelessly with the bartender—a tall guy with a sleeve of tattoos and a crooked smile. After a minute, he slid four shots across the counter. “On the house for the dart queen and her buddies.”

Freddy winked at Gemma. “See? Stick with me, Havley. We’ll have the whole town wrapped around your finger by midterms.”

Gemma laughed, the sound real and easy, even as her heart twisted—missing home, missing Tony.

Gemma leaned back against the bar, watching the bartender work. He moved with an easy confidence, and something about the set of his jaw and the way he wiped down the counter reminded her of Toby. She caught herself staring and quickly looked away, but not before Freddy noticed.

Freddy nudged her. “See something you like, Havley?”

Gemma blushed. “He just… looks like someone I know.”

Freddy grinned wickedly. “Live a little. Flirt.”

Gemma shook her head, completely serious. “Honestly, I don’t know how to flirt.”

Freddy stopped mid-sip, eyes wide. “Excuse me, what? You don’t know how to flirt?”

“No, not really,” Gemma confessed, a little embarrassed.

Freddy slung an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the door. “Next bar, you’re doing the flirting. If we don’t get free shots, I swear we’ll find you some flirting lessons somewhere.”

Gemma just laughed, letting herself be pulled along—feeling both mortified and strangely excited for what came next.

They walked outside, arms around each other, laughing—total opposites, but already best friends. Gemma, short and petite; Freddy, tall and muscular—their laughter echoed down the street as they slipped into the next bar.

+This place felt more familiar to Gemma—one of those little dive bars that didn’t bother to card, the kind she’d grown up around. She’d worried, after meeting Freddy, that she wouldn’t fit in anywhere. But here, she realized, she did—almost better than Freddy did.

To Gemma’s delight, there was a pool table near the back. She grinned, remembering all those hours playing against Kyle and Toby, holding her own and even hustling a few regulars out of their spare cash.

As they made their way over, Freddy watched her, eyebrows raised. “Don’t tell me you’re a pool shark too.”

Gemma just smiled, chalking up a cue. “Let’s find out.”

They waited by the pool table while two guys finished their game. One of them glanced over and snorted. “You really think you two can play?”

Gemma, tapping into the spark of the girl she’d been back home, put on her most innocent look. “Oh, we’re just trying to learn something new.”

The guy took the bait, swaggering over. He hovered behind her as she awkwardly picked up a cue. “Like this?” she asked, pretending not to know how to hold it.

He sighed, exasperated. “No, not like that—like this.” He leaned in and showed her how to position her hands. Gemma fumbled, then took a shot. The ball bounced off the rail and spun back toward the middle.

She turned to him, wide-eyed. “Is that good?”

“Perfect,” the guy said, shaking his head.

Freddy stepped up. “I know how to play.” She lined up her shot and sank a ball in the corner pocket. “See?”

Both guys exchanged wary glances.

Gemma batted her eyelashes, pointing to the side pocket. “At least she got hers in that place over there.”

The first guy—Tyler—groaned. “Oh my god, Mike, these girls are regular pool sharks.”

Freddy grinned, especially after watching Gemma at the dart board in the last bar. She looked at the two of them and said, “Alright, let’s play for real.”

Gemma deliberately missed her first shot, keeping up the act. Mike chuckled, teasing her, and Gemma pouted, sticking out her bottom lip as if he’d hurt her feelings.

Freddy leaned on the table, her eyes glinting. “Want to place a bet? We win, you buy drinks. You win, we buy.”

Tyler raised his eyebrows and glanced over at his friend Mike who just tried to hide a laugh behind his arms. “You’re on.”

Gemma leaned over the table and, with practiced ease, cleared the rest of the balls—one after another, smooth as anything. When she sank the eight ball, she glanced up at the guys with a smirk and casually shrugged. “Is that good?”

The guys exchanged looks as realization dawned. They burst out laughing. “We’ve been hustled,” Tyler said, shaking his head. “Well, I guess drinks are on us.”

They headed to the bar, still chuckling. Freddy leaned in close and whispered in Gemma’s ear, “I thought you didn’t know how to flirt.”