His frustration isn't about the fact that I'm ditching Rhett. I get under his skin, and it's delightful to know that I'm capable of ruffling the calm demeanor he projects to the world. I want to fluster and provoke him until he can't take anymore. My thoughts turn to Seth in a bath towel again, but I drop those images into a mental lockbox that can only be opened when he's not in my presence.
"As you're already aware, he's not my date." I wave to Rhett anyway, to be polite and possibly to piss off Seth.
I'm glad when Rhett smiles and gives me a two fingered wave before returning to the conversation at his table. Points to him for not being threatened by a woman who does her own thing.
I walk over to the pool sticks and inspect the tips, selecting the one that's in the best shape. Then I roll the stick on the pool table to make sure it doesn't wobble. Finally, I swipe chalk across the tip, then tap the other end of the stick on the ground to loosen any excess powder. When I finish this process, the three of them are staring at me.
"Okay, now I'm scared," Eli says.
I laugh lightly and shake my head. "Don't be silly."
We're going to crush these boys.
Seth suggests we play eight ball, and we all agree. They chalk their sticks, and Eli racks the balls. He does it incorrectly, but I'm not going to be a dick about it. Okay, I am. I reach into the triangle and put the eight ball where it's supposed to be in the middle of the third row of balls. Eli, who's taking a sip of beer, doesn't even notice, but Seth is watching my every move.
"Should we flip a coin to see who breaks?" I ask.
Seth slips a quarter out of his pocket and says, "Call it."
As he flips the coin in the air, I call out, "Heads."
It's tails.
I love breaking, but I'm also curious to see what Seth can do. The minute he gets in his stance, I can see he knows how to play or at least he knows how to look like he does. He strikes the cue ball with confidence, sending the other balls spinning to the rails to begin the game. The cue ball isn't set up for an easy second shot though, and when he misses, I'm up. Because I've played a lot of pool, I see a way to get the four ball in the corner if I can tap it perfectly with the side of the cue ball. I love that pool is a game of angles and points, like a math puzzle that can be solved. People sometimes say "lucky shot," but there's less luck involved when you get to a certain level of play.
When the cue ball hits the four, I know what will happen, even before the ball sinks into the pocket.
"Wow," Jenny says. "That was awesome."
"Thanks," I say modestly. "I took some lessons a few years ago."
I don't add that after those lessons I spent many evenings shooting pool at the dive bar on my block. I hang out there so often, in fact, that the bartender knows what kind of beer to pour me when I walk in the door. One slow night at the bar, I taught her how to play pool, too. Now she beats a lot of the older men who hang out there.
I sink two more shots before I miss. Seth is sipping his beer while watching me, and there's no telling what he thinks about my skills. Not that I care. Eli takes his turn and, to his chagrin, accidentally pockets the cue ball. Jenny is up next.
"Any suggestions?" she asks me, tapping her pool stick on the floor.
My eyes study the table, assessing her best chances to make a shot while setting herself up for the next one. I sidle up next to her and point to the six ball.
"If you tap it with enough force, I think you can make that shot. You just have to line it up properly. That will leave the cue ball in a good position for you."
We lean over the table, and I show her the angle I'm seeing.
"Any other tips?" she asks.
I love teaching women how to play pool because they're always willing to listen to advice. Guys, not so much.
"Let me see how you hold the stick."
Jenny leans over the table, getting into position to strike the ball, and I watch her technique.
"You've got good form with your arm. Just don't slow down on your follow through. Push through the ball, don't stop." I lift my stick and show her what I mean.
She nods. "Got it. Thanks."
She takes the shot I suggested and the ball heads toward the pocket. When it drops in, she turns and grins at me. "Yes!"
I give her a high five and Eli groans.
