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Smith
The first half of the game, Diego gets ball after ball. I'm hardly able to keep up with how many stripes have fallen into the pockets because I'm struggling to hit my own balls in.
I eventually get the hang of it. As nerdy as it sounds, I'm able to figure out the angles and efficiently knock the balls into the pockets. I become a pro by the middle of the game, quickly catching up with Diego. It's not long before we each have a few balls left until the 8 ball.
Part of me feels as if Diego is going easy on me. There is no way I'm a natural at pool and he's been playing for years. Maybe this is his plan. Maybe Diego wants me to win. Maybe his ominous threat of always winning was just to distract me.
Finally, it's just the 8 ball left. And it's just my luck that it's my turn. If I get this in, I win. I'll beat Diego and be the coolest person alive.
"It's a straight shot," Diego comments as I walk around the table to figure out the best way to go about this. He's right; it is a straight shot. It'd take an idiot to mess this up.
I hum in response with a small smirk, "We should just automatically let me win."
Diego scoffs and rolls his eyes. Though I'm seconds away from winning, he still seems confident he's going to win. I hope I don't bruise his ego too much when I knock that ball in. "You're cute, but no."
"My cuteness doesn't get me a free pass?"
"You've gotten enough free passes this game."
There may or may not have been a few times where Diego has accidentally knocked one of my balls or has let me move the white ball around to my advantage. That's unimportant though. Completely irrelevant.
After staring at the 8 ball for another moment or two, I finally decide to try. It's not too far away from the pocket, so I don't need to hit it too hard. However, the more pressure, the more guaranteed it'll go in.
The stick harshly pushes the white ball, causing it to collide with the black one.
The 8 ball rolls in, my eyes widening with amazement. However, before I can scream out my victory, the white ball falls in right after. My face falls and so does my jaw. This game is rigged, I swear. There is no way I was so close to victory and got it stolen from me. "You scratched." Goddammit. "Soooo, I win."
I grumble, "I guess you do, yeah..."
"Awe, don't be a sore loser," Diego teases. My arms cross over my chest as bitterness seeps in. I can't believe this. Though I didn't expect to win, the fact that I lost due to a small mistake pisses me off. "I promise you won't be mad at me in a few minutes."
Excitement and worry fills my stomach. How could I have forgotten about our deal? I guess I became too focused on winning that I forgot the entire reason I wanted to win. Deep down, though, I'm now glad I lost. Knowing Diego is going to do whatever he wants to me thrills me more than I imagined.
Diego takes the pool stick from my hand and goes to put it away. My eyes remain on him as my imagination runs wild. What if he going to do to me? We're not going to fuck, right? I kept dinner down, so I sure as hell hope we aren't going that far tonight.
