The door opens, and as if thinking about them can actually conjure them from thin air, the two of them come out into the alleyway. And when I see them so close to me that I can reach out and touch them, all thought flees my brain, and I forget to breathe.
* * *
“What did Clark say to you?” the big dark-haired man who had introduced himself as Sebastian growls. There’s a hint of stubble on his face and his ocean-blue eyes are clouded with concern. His fists are clenched, his arms are thickly muscled, and his biceps are tattooed, though his t-shirt sleeves obscure the images. For some strange reason, he looks vaguely familiar.
“Just that I need improvement,” I mutter. “No biggie.”
“He upset you,” Daniel, the leaner of the two says.
I shrug uncomfortably. These guys are perfect strangers - I’m not sure what I’m expected to say to them. Am I supposed to pour my heart out and tell them my insecurities? “It’s okay,” I say quietly. “He didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I’m not sure I’m going to come back anyway.”
“Why not?” Sebastian comes closer, so close that I can see each hair on his chin glimmer under the outdoor light in the alley. A sudden yearning to reach out and touch his face fills me, and I back away until my shoulders hit the wall. “You played two games,” he says. “The woman on the other team kicked your butt, but you didn’t quit. I liked that.” His eyes hold mine captive. “Why quit now?”
Daniel is watching our interaction. His nostrils flare, and his breathing is ever so slightly quicker. Under his intent gaze, I feel very exposed, but I like it. I feel like I am tap-dancing at the knife edge of danger.
I drag my wandering mind back to our conversation. Back to the humiliating scene at the pool table. “Did you see me in there?” My voice rises with frustration. To my horror, I can hear the tears just under. One word will crack the fragile barrier and release them.
“Everyone starts somewhere.” Daniel’s voice is deliberately reassuring, as if he’s soothing a cornered animal. “Everyone’s a beginner once.”
“I’ve been trying to learn to play for eleven months.” Ever since I met Trevor. Almost a year, and what I have to show for it is less than nothing.
“Your teachers are not very good at their task,” he says. Sebastian’s the one watching me now, and he’s so close I can almost feel him. There’s a weird energy that’s humming between the three of us, some kind of undercurrent of attraction that zings under the surface of our conversation, peppering each word with a heated spice. “We’ll be better.”
“You?”
“Sebastian and I can teach you.” There’s a pause in the conversation. “If you want.”
They are way, way above my league, but I’m attracted to these men. I want them. I want to be sandwiched between them. I want to feel suffocated by their hard weight pressing against me. “You’ll teach me how to play pool?” I stammer, in an effort to calm my raging hormones.
They both look amused. “Yes Bailey,” Sebastian confirms. “We’ll teach you how to play.”
“Next Wednesday,” Daniel says. “Get here an hour early.” He fishes a business card from his wallet and hands it to me. “My address and personal phone number is on the back. Call me if something changes.”
My brain cannot seem to string together enough words to form a sentence. I’m so caught up in their spell. An observer of this scene must think that it must be laughably easy to earn a PhD.
A full-blown grin covers Sebastian’s face. “We’re going to enjoy coaching you, Bailey. Don’t be late.”
Unless I’m imagining things, there’s a gleam in Sebastian’s eyes, a subtle emphasis on the word coaching. They aren’t coming on to me, are they?
7
To receive guests is to take charge of their happiness during the entire time they are under your roof.
Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin
Sebastian:
For every good, there is a bad. I learned this the painful way. The day after I got my first Michelin star, my dog Buddy died. He’d been ailing for many months, and his death was only a matter of time, but I still can’t think back to that day without sorrow. Such is life.