Thursday, April 23, 2015

our love story/part 9

Our love story is a keeper. It begins before we met and I pray it'll continue for all of time. 
Someday, I want to be able to look back at the details that have been overlooked when life happens. Because real.

You can read part 1 here, part 2 here, part 3 here, part 4 here, part 5 here, part 6 here, part 7 here, and part 8 here.

When we got to the back of the bar we stopped in front of a pool table and I realized this was the game they were talking about.

Well crap, this was about to get a lot worse.

D could tell I wasn't thrilled about this game because a smug little smile curled across his lips as he placed a pole in my hand. 
That dimple and smugness was all it took. 
Game on hot, random guy I just met. 

I grabbed the pole and threw him the sassiest look I could. 
"Thanks," I said. 
He laughed and softened his voice, “It’s your turn.” 
Double crap.
I walked up to the table and without any strategy at all managed to make contact with the balls. 
None went in of course, but I also didn’t miss completely.

 I stepped back away from the bright table lights and felt him come up behind me. 
Dustin's warm chest was close to my back and he reached an arm in front of me to pull me further back against him. 

He lowered his mouth down to my ear and whispered, “Nice shot”. 
I lean my head back into him a fraction of an inch and let his mouth brush again the back of my hair. “Thanks,” I whispered. 

I was close enough now that I could smell him. His cologne was woodsy. 
It matched him. I breathed it in, glad he could’t see the look on my face as I enjoyed it.

His mouth was back down to my still buzzing ear as he said, “It’s my turn.” 
I took a deep breath in and nodded as he let go of my waist. 
Instantly I felt the absence of the weight of his arm and his warmth as he walked over to the table.

 I shamelessly watched him bend down and without his eyes on me took a minute or two to scan his body. His muscles were evident through the fabric of his jeans. He was strong and tall. I watched as the muscles on the side of his chest and arms casually flexed during his shot. 
The second he was done he walked over to me, pulled me up to him, and whispered, “How'd you like that?”

Wait a second. Was he talking about pool still? Did he know I'd been looking? Did he feel it? 

 He pulled his hand up from my waist and rubbed his rough thumb on my cheek. Lowering his head, his lips tested mine. Softly they slid across my lower lip and then gently his mouth covered mine. His scent made me light headed and his tongue urged my lips to open. He tasted like coffee and mint and D. He pulled back from my mouth and whispered, "Your turn."

“Turn?” I thought.
 “What is he talking about?” 
And then I remembered that I'd have to try to not mortify myself at the pool table again. I walked up to the game table with rubbery legs, managed to make contact with a ball, and this time I sent it flying up over the top of another ball and off the table altogether. 
It was a spectacular failure.

Clearly this is not what you’re supposed to do in a game of pool, but I was beyond thinking straight at this point. 
That kiss had turned my mind to mush and in the moment I found my arms up over my head and a loud “Wow! Did you see that?” was coming out of my mouth! I was clearly impressed with my unintentional trick shot and past the point of embarrassment. 
I headed back over to D and said, “Beat that!” 
When I looked at him though I noticed he was smiling, but he wasn’t cheering along. 
He was watching my lips as I spoke, and I could tell by the dark look in his eyes that he was clearly no longer interested in talking. 

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