Finn thinks he’s doing me a favor by offering to let me break, but really, he’s just signing his death certificate. Before he even has a chance to go, nearly all the balls I have are in the pockets. Finn’s eyes narrow on me. “You little liar.” “I didn’t lie,” I say sweetly. “I told you not to worry about me.” Scoffing, he shakes his head and takes his turn. He’s not bad, I’ll give him that. I’m not saying he’s good enough to warrant all of his shit talking, but I’ve seen worse players. Still, he’s got nothing on me.
