✰ | scratches ;

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The white ball clacks against the striped billiard ball, knocking it perfectly into one of the holes in the table. Leon frowns, leaning against his Q stick as he reassesses the velvet expanse on the playing field. I only had three balls left to get in, while Leon was at odds with five still on the table. He had the opportunity to make it, but once I got the second one in, I didn't stop. "I don't miss, Leon." Slater was on his phone, sitting a little away from us in the private room. He's already been beaten by me three times tonight, twice by himself, then the third time with Leon swapping turns.

"Oh, but I can't keep losing forever, right?" I raise my eyebrow and lean over the tablet to position myself to hit the next striped ball, yellow this time. Slater looks up when I do and I put on a show for him, arching my back. "Like the view?" I comment, knocking the stick against the white ball. It collides with the yellow one, but it narrowly misses the slot.

"Just giving Leon a chance to win, darling." I huff out a breath, before resting my stick against the table as the boxer's eyes glint. Leon assumes his position, the stick resting between his veined hand. He aims and slides the stick between his fingers a few times, before hitting the white ball. It slides perfectly toward a solid, sinking it in a clean move.

"That might've actually paid off." I laugh, before pressing my finger against the tip of the Q stick and twirling it. Leon pauses, his eyes completely on the moment of contact. "W-What?"

"I have an idea. Whoever wins this game gets to dom tonight." The younger boxer's shoulders go slack and Slater nearly drops his phone in his haste to get up. He picks up his stick, beyond eager to join the game now. "Ooh, seems like I got someone's attention now."

"That's what you wanted, wasn't it, sweetheart?" I raise my eyebrows, before gesturing toward the pool table. Slater focuses on another solid as Leon wraps an arm around my waist, kissing the crown of my head. I lean against him, enjoying the smell of his cologne. I watch the way Slater's fingers flex before hitting the wall, sinking yet another solid ball. He wasn't bad at this game, definitely not, it was just me that was... you know, good at everything. He straightens up, before nodding toward Leon.

"Don't do too good, now," I say as he detaches himself from me. Slater comes to my side this time, watching Leon with me. I raise my hand, showing him my nails. His hand comes to wrap against the front of my fingers, drawing them closer to look at. "Was this the color you were talking about?"

The boxer turns toward me, his long lashes evidencing his shifting attention between each finger. "I told you to get a shape that doesn't fucking rip up my back, sweetheart. I didn't say anything about color." I let out a faint hum, turning back to admire Leon's hands.

"Must've been one of my hundred other boyfriends then." Slater rolls his eyes, before rubbing his thumb against the back of my hand. I wonder if he even knows that he's doing it, caressing my skin with such gentle affection.

"Leon wanted maroon?"

"Wine red. Cherry wine red." I squint back at them. Well, he's not off the mark. "Hm, they do look pretty similar to maroon." Leon misjudges his shot, letting out a sigh as the ball stops short of the hole. I step forward, resting my hand against the velvet. I hit and made my first shot, the ball sinking easily. I turn my attention toward the next ball, the nearest one to me. I close one eye, before changing it. The striped ball streaks across the table, before hitting one of the walls and slowly rolling into a corner. "I think," I say, before setting up behind the white ball. "I'm going to win again."

"You're too..." I hit the ball and it doesn't glide, instead, it bounces. The three of us stare at it land heavily about half a foot away from its original position and knock another ball--a black ball--into a hole. My jaw drops. The eight-ball, the last ball that you're supposed to hit in to win when you're done with all of your own.

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