Hunter said. “Fine, rack ‘em up, fine sir,” Kerry said, pointing his pool cue at Hunter with a flourish. After Hunter and I beat Colleen and Kerry in our first game, Colleen and Kerry went upstairs. The guy and girl who had been pounding the ping pong ball across the net at each other threw down their paddles and went upstairs, too. Even the couple that had been making out on the couch left, leaving us downstairs alone. We kept playing eight-ball, and I could feel Hunter’s eyes on me every time I leaned over the table to reach a shot. Someone started playing a song about twenty-seven tattoos upstairs, and between shots we started dancing and singing along. A tingle of excitement ran up my spine. Hunter was paying attention to me, only me. I’d surprised him by being able to play pool. I took a shot, and my cue ball barely touched the number four ball, nudging it a few inches. “It kissed the four,” Hunter said, using pool lingo, but he smiled at me when he said it, and I could feel myself turning red.
