He barks out a laugh as he rounds the table and leans over it. Is pool supposed to be sexy? Because Jasper makes it look sexy. His hard body leans against the green felt top. His veined hands wrap lightly around the cue. The way his eyes narrow like this is a Stanley Cup final or something. The way that boyish smile lights up his face when I complain about him kicking my ass. I hate losing . . . and yet, to see him smile like that, I’d lose over and over again. I’d sit on a cold roof. I’d dance in the rain. I’d go on a road trip and drink shitty beer and eat greasy foods.
