We’re in the pool room above the main club, where the atmosphere feels exclusive and laid-back.There’s a small bar in the corner with a few patrons: a girl drinking alone and a couple leaning into each other, their quiet conversation blending with the low hum of rap music in the background.
A big red couch sits nearby, occupied by a guy scrolling through his phone and a girl beside him, lost in her own world.And then there’s Blaze and me, our own little world at the pool table.
Blaze positions his cue stick, a cigarette between his lips, his focus steady.I’ve managed to win only once; Blaze has won three games so far, and I’m pretty sure my single win was more a mercy than anything.He’s annoyingly good.
Just as he’s about to take his shot, he glances up and catches me staring.His lips curve into a smirk, and I quickly clear my throat, biting my lip.
“Ready to lose to the king again?”he teases, his eyebrow raised in that playful, cocky way he does so well.
“Bring it on,” I challenge, trying to sound confident.
He laughs, the sound warm and rich, making me smile despite myself.He lines up his shot, and with a practiced move, sends the balls rolling smoothly into the pockets.But on his next shot, he misses, leaving me a chance to take over.
I step up to the table, focusing on my shot, but I can feel Blaze’s gaze on me.There’s something electric in the air tonight, an excitement I don’t usually feel in places like this.But with Blaze, it’s different.I find myself laughing easily, blushing every time he teases me, and feeling the thrill of competition and something more, something I can’t quite define.
“So, tell me something about you, Cam.Something most people don’t know.”
I laugh nervously, taking a sip of orange juice as I set the glass on the rim of the pool table.“That’s a little tough.I’m not exactly mysterious.”
He raises an eyebrow.“Come on.There’s got to be something.”
I think for a moment.“Alright, here’s one: I’ve never been in a real relationship.I mean, like, a serious one.”
Blaze seems genuinely surprised.“Really?I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“Well, it’s not like I broadcast it,” I say, smiling.“What about you?Any secrets?”
He grins, looking away for a moment as if deciding whether to share.“Alright, here’s one.I’m actually a huge fan of old-school jazz.Like, the kind of stuff my grandpa used to play.It’s what I listen to when I want to clear my head.”
I smile, feeling the unexpected connection between us grow.“Didn’t peg you as the jazz type.”
“There’s a lot people don’t know about me,” he says, a hint of something deeper in his eyes.“And don’t tell anyone.Aside from Fox, only one other person knows I’m into old-school jazz.”
I smile.“I promise.Won’t say a word.”
We settle into an easy conversation, exchanging stories and sharing small pieces of ourselves as we keep playing, lost in our own world, sharing quiet moments and stolen glances that feel like secrets just between us.
I just won another game when my phone rings.It’s Landon, and as I glance at the time, my eyes widen—it’s 11:15.How long have we been here?
“Landon,” I answer, and Blaze stops mid-shot, looking over at me.
“Oh my God, Cam.Where the hell are you?Nat and I have been looking for you for the past hour—we were worried.We tried calling, but there was no reception.”Landon’s voice is a mix of relief and irritation.
“Where is he?”I hear Nat’s voice in the background, sounding equally exasperated.
“Uh… I’m with Blaze,” I say, glancing at him as he raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by the sudden drama.
“Blaze?”Nat and Landon say in unison, their voices sharp with surprise.
“We’re not far from the movie theater,” I assure them quickly.“I can ask him to drive me back.”
Landon sighs.“Alright.We’re just going to ignore the fact that you’re with Blaze right now, but tell him to drive you home.It’s late, and the movie theater closed about twenty minutes ago.”
“Got it,” I say.“Are you guys okay?”
“We are now,” Landon replies, his tone softening.“Just get home safe, alright?Nat and I are heading out; we’ve been parked outside the movie theater this whole time.”
“I’m really sorry,” I say, feeling a pang of guilt.
