Calloway // Michael Gray x Reader - Peaky Blinders Fanfic

Chapter 14

Michael

"Come on," he says, checking his watch. "Let's get a drink."

He expects Calloway to argue, to even retire back to the room alone. But it's the end of a long day, and courtesy dictates he should invite her. Surprisingly, she agrees.

"Why do you always check your watch?" She asks.

"Do I?"

"Constantly."

"I'm busy," he says. "I like to know I'm not running late for anything."

They reach the bar. He orders a neat whiskey and then turns to Calloway expectantly for her order.

"Whiskey and sour," she says.

"And bloody sour," he mutters, but orders for her regardless.

"It's better. You ought to try it."

He gives her a pointed look. "If I order a sour mix in my drink, my cousins would throw me out of the pub."

She smiles at that, almost laughs. He's mesmerised by everything about it. The sound. The way her cheeks tug into the smile, as though reluctant.

Then he notices she keeps glancing at the pool table, tucked out of the way down the other end of the pub.

"You want to play?" He asks.

"With you?"

"No need to sound so surprised," he tells her, tipping back half his drink in one. "Worried you'll lose?"

"I don't lose," she says firmly, her mind set. "You pay the coin."

And then she marches through the pub, hair swinging as she walks. Michael finds a coin, and watches as her hands caress the cues lined up across the wall, dancing across them all before slipping one from its case.

This is becoming torturous.

He follows her, examining the cues and picking his own, dusting it with plenty of chalk. "You play often?" He asks.

"Not since I was a child. You?"

Michael shrugs. "Here and there." He sets up the table. "We going to make this a betting game?" He asks.

Calloway shrugs, but her eyes are alight. "What did you have in mind?"

"I'll be fair, considering the odds if you haven't played," he says. "If I win, you admit you were the one who cosied up to me last night."

He can see how pained she is as she battles with it in her mind. She'll lose her pride both if she accepts, being a pool amateur, and if she refuses.

"Fine," she finally agrees. Michael's already enjoying the anticipation. "And if I win, I get to keep your watch for the rest of the week."

Now it's his turn to look pained, his face falling. "My watch?"

"What's the matter, Gray?" She asks, holding up her cue and examining the end. "Worried you'll lose?"

"Childish," he says, pointing with the cue, before finishing setting up the game.

He wins the lag and takes the breaking shot, sending balls scattering across the table, but none dipping into the pockets.

And then Calloway bends over.

His eyes widen a fraction, and he shifts his weight between his feet at the sight. Her hips hinged forward, her torso low across the table, her face poised in utter, yet effortless, concentration as she lines up the shot. Her knuckles jut forward, her breathing is steady...