Harry POV:
"So you've never played pool before?" I ask, handing Louis a spare cue. It's nearly as tall as he is, and I realize that he's shorter than I thought; not short (he's about an average height) but maybe I'm just tall.
"Does it count if I've played pool on my phone?" He grins sheepishly.
"What? No, that doesn't count!"
"Oh, well that's too bad. I'm a Game Pigeon 8-ball master!" I've never heard of 'Game Pigeon 8-ball' but I assume it must resemble pool to a degree.
"I'll start off with the basics," I say, grabbing my regular pool cue that's leaned against the wall.
The set of balls are already set up in the familiar triangle formation, with the cue ball sitting on the table at the opposite end.
"That's the cue ball," I say, pointing to the isolated white ball, "And those are the 15 solid and striped balls. One through seven are solid colors, the eight ball is black, and nine through fifteen are striped."
He nods, looking down at the table. "Which ones do you hit into the pockets?"
"One player wants to hit all the solids in while the other wants to hit all the stripes in. Then, once you hit all your designated pool balls, the way to win is to hit the eight ball into a pocket that you call ahead of time."
"What if you miss?"
"If you miss, it's not a big deal. The only time it really matters is when you call the pocket you plan to get the eight ball into a certain pocket, but it ends up going into a different pocket. In that case scenario, you would lose."
"And you hit the white cue ball at the beginning of every shot, right?"
"Yeah," I say, walking over to take aim at the cue ball.
"Okay, then this is just like the game on my phone! Except I don't know how to take a proper shot with this stick,"
I wave him over and he walks towards me, leaning on his own pool cue while he watches how I set my hands up. I use my non-dominant hand to act as a makeshift tripod for the cue to rest on top of, and my other one grips the cue a few inches from its end.
"When you shoot," I say, crouching down to properly aim, "Be careful not to aim your cue too far down or you'll hit and damage the turf. Keep it somewhat level so you can hit the ball in the center."
I wind up my shot and hit the cue ball, causing it to fly forward and break the formation of the triangle. The balls scatter and a blue striped ball makes it into the far right pocket.
"That's a break, right?" He asks and I nod.
"Want to try?"
"Yeah, could I?" I reset the balls into their triangle shape and he walks over to where I took my shot. Louis goes to set up his hands but looks confused and turns to me for help, his cheeks flushed pink.
I walk up to him, glad to help.
"Are you right or left-handed?"
"Right,"
"Okay, me too. Niall's left-handed so if you ever see him play, he'll use the opposite hand positions as us," I say, "To start, put your left hand down on the table as I did so the cue has something to steadily rest on."
He puts his hand down and I reposition it a bit. His hand is cool to the touch, and I can see scars from cuts on his fingers here and there, but they're healed and look old.
"I got those cuts in culinary school," He says abruptly as if reading my mind, "Long story short we went through lots of knife skills training and it didn't come easily to me. Took loads of practice but now I can perfectly dice a carrot or something with my eyes closed without cutting myself, so it paid off."
"Good to know," I laugh lightly and he bends down to take his shot. He looks tense and unsure about it, his knuckles are white as he practically death-grips the cue.
"You can relax your right hand," I say, tapping it. He loosens his grip and concentrates on angling the stick before striking the white ball. He hits it square on and sends it flying towards the triangle. The balls scatter once again, and this time both a solid and striped ball sink into the far left pocket.
"Was that good?" He asks, standing up and leaning on the cue.
"Are you sure this is your first time playing?" I ask skeptically, arching an eyebrow. He flashes a smile and nods his head.
"Well, shit, that's not too bad for a first try. When I first started playing I remember consistently missing all my shots. Once I even dug up the felt on my dad's old table, and boy was he a bitch about it," I laugh. It's funny now, but at the time it felt like my life had flashed before my eyes.
"Can we play?" He asks, snapping me out of my trip down memory lane.
"Oh, yeah, let's."
I go through a few more rules and tactics as the game progresses, and Louis picks it all up much faster than I would've expected. Our game lasts around 20 minutes and I come out the winner, but Louis wasn't far behind the lead. Maybe I played it easy on him, but once he gets better I'll continue up the difficulty so he can still feel challenged.
We play two more games (I win both) and drink a few more beers between games while lounging on the sofa by the tables. Louis is really easy to talk to and the conversation isn't stressed or forced, either that or it's the alcohol.
At one point, I contemplated introducing Louis to Ashton, but Ashton was still all up another guy's business in their booth, so I abandoned the idea. Louis company was something new and refreshing, a nice change of pace from Ash's constant conversations about who he's hooked up with and stuff.
"You improve quickly, don't you?" We've just finished our third game and our cues are resting on the sofa as we plop back down on the sofa. I can hear the sounds of Queer Eye playing on one of the nearby televisions, and make a mental note to binge it later when I get home.
"You could say that," He grins, his blue eyes crinkling a bit as he does so, "I need to practice more though if I want to beat you and Zayn."
"Trust me, you'll beat him soon enough. I don't know how good he is, but I'll surely coach you up when you come to the bar. I'm here all the time to give Niall some company or to help close the bar, and occasionally with Ashton."
"I'll stop by more often to freshen up my skills," He takes another sip of his beer, emptying his third glass. I'm still on my second and don't want to drink too much since I drove here, and I need to get home safely.
"When Niall isn't busy, I'll introduce you two. He plays pool too, although he doesn't get to practice a lot so yours truly normally beats him."
"That'd be brilliant! I think we should g-" He's interrupted by a loud laugh coming from the bar, followed by a thud.
Louis stands up, craning his neck to see what's going on. "Zayn's laying on the ground and looks shitfaced drunk," He shoots me an apologetic glance, "Liam and I should probably get him home but thank you for teaching me how to play, Harry!"
"Text me when you plan on paying the bar another visit and I'll come if I'm not here already," I give him a smile before he offers a wave and quickly walks away to check on his friend.
It's an odd feeling to see him walk away and wishing that he wouldn't. It's nothing more than wishing I still had someone to play in pool and for someone to talk to between games, but Ashton is preoccupied and Niall's in the backroom.
I take my beer with me and walk over to the bar myself. I have to step over Zayn (who's sprawled out on the floor giggling some nonsensical gibberish) and join Donnie behind the bar.
Niall always lets me work at the bar when I get bored, and he's properly trained me on how to take orders and make drinks and all things that a bartender should know how to do. I finish my beer and wash the glass while I can see Donnie chatting with Liam and sending Zayn concerned glances.
"How does he drink so many of these?" Zayn slurs as Louis is leaning over him.
"Who?" He asks.
"Bond,"
"You fucking nerd," Louis scoffs and I do my best to hold in a laugh. Niall loves James Bond too and geeks out on me all the time about the franchise.
"Do you want me to get him some water to-go if you guys are headed out?" I offer and Louis turns to look at me, nodding his head.
"You're a bartender too? Wow, a man of many talents," He smiles and I fill up a plastic cup with ice and cold tap water before handing it to him with a straw.
"Thanks, Harry," He takes the drink and bends down to force Zayn to drink it. I can hear Zayn (he's on the floor on the other side of the bar so I can't see him) resist, numbing something about the water possibly being positioned by someone named Le Chiffre.
Liam looks down at his friend and rolls his eyes. "Donnie, I think I've got to give my drunk boyfriend a ride home, but I'll catch up again soon, yeah?"
"You gotta do what you gotta do, Li. Have a safe drive!"
Liam hops off of his barstool and I can see him and Louis hoist Zayn up. Zayn's wobbly and Liam grabs him tightly by the waist so he doesn't fall over as the three of them near the exit.
Louis turns around one last time to give me a smile and mouths 'thank you' before he's out the door with the other two.
"Nice lads, aren't they?" Donnie asks, and I turn to him with a nod.
"Yeah, they are. I'll take it you know them well?"
"Liam mostly, but I've seen Zayn and Louis around plenty of times,"
"Did they say anything about coming back sometime soon? I'm teaching Louis how to play pool so he can beat Zayn."
He shrugs his shoulders. "Liam said he'd come back sometime soon to catch up again, but I don't know if he's bringing the other two with him,"
Someone calls Donnie over for a refill and he excuses himself, leaving me to stare across the building at Ashton. I roll my eyes jokingly and head into the backroom to find Niall to see if he needs a hand with anything.
***
Zayn is my brainchild in this; same humor and interests as me so... yay Zayn!
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