Over by the wall, two young girls stand. The brunette has long hair, the blonde with the short hair and they both look like their only a year past going to the ice cream parlor on the first weekend night.
As Derek is about to fling the pool stick, he stops, takes off his jacket and throws it on a bar stool chair. Right before he lines up for his shot, he spots the blonde, and winks at her. She looks away as his piercing green eyes are too much for any high school teen to handle.
He flings the wooden stick and in a flash, the six-ball hits the back of the pocket and settles in.
Derek has been playing by himself for the past hour, most likely in thought as to when he's going to get a real job. But the girls don't know that. All they know is that he looks cool, acts cool, and they wonder what he would be like in a dark private room.
He knows these thoughts are running through their head and he vows to himself for the rest of the night that he will do whatever it takes to make sure he lives up to those fantasies.
As the blonde and brunette drink their lemonade, he pulls up his sleeves showing his other tattoo. Then he grabs a sip of beer, puffs his cigarette and scopes the table for his next shot.
He doesn't even need to look at the girls. He knows they're thinking thoughts young girls shouldn't make.
He's used to it. Every Friday night, it's always a new set of girls hanging out by the ping pong tables.
Rob was laughing to his friend James. All she could see was Rob's broad back, the back that had been turned against her all last night because he was too tired. Always too tired..
Karen blinked. The bar was too brightly lit, it seemed for her eyes tired after a week at work under the flourescent lights. The carpet was a stained bright red against the artificial grass green of the pool tables. She looked around her at the girls in their minskirts and leather jackets, flirting with the players on the other tables, at the sleepy bar man with bags under his eyes. She stared straight back at the old men hunched in the shadows until they dropped their gaze. A guy with shaven head sitting alone at the bar winked at her. She sneered back and averted her eyes.
Then she looked back at Rob. He was bending over to take a shot and she noticed as she had been lately, how large his arse was. It looked tight, but she had seen him put on his restraining underwear this morning, just like women do. He didn't seem to care, but he was careful to point out to women he met how he used to go in triathlons. Now swivelling in his chair and work and pressing the keys was the only exercise he got.
But as he straightened up and she watched his large back in its silk shirt, she felt a huge desire to go up to him and put her arms around him. Instead, she heaved herself up onto the bar stool and stared out the window at the laughing people strolling by.
" Do you want a shot?"
She swung around. Rob was smiling at her, the smile he had with the little twist to it. Perhaps he was pitying her, perhaps not.
" I thought you'd never ask."
"What?," Rob said, moving closer. He put his arm around her waist and the warm, the weight of it relaxed her stiffness. She allowed herself to raise her head to him and snuggle against his shoulder. He was so solid and heavy, he was like a boulder.
He kissed her briefly, but it was just a brush on the cheek.
Are you OK?" he asked, whispering into her ear. She shivered. She started to stretch her arm out to put it around him, but managed to stop herself.
Instead,
she stared into his dark blue eyes with their long black lashes. It was
the eyes which always got her, they were a rich blue, not the common watery
blue. He usually kept them hidden, though. They were so narrow, it was
hard to look into them...