Sincere Lies

Twelve

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Pero sa kabila no'n, nakuha pa akong kindatan ni Chris nang makita niya ako.

Damn it.

Napangiti ako nang kindatan niya ako. I mean. . . it feels real at the moment. It feels like our masks are off and like this is the real world. It feels like the role I am playing is Stephanie, not Cerulean.

"Start na tayo," a man in a parakeet-green feathered mask said, racking the balls on the felt surface of the billiards table. "Chris Hartell will go first."

And just like that, the referee already lifted the triangular wooden frame, leaving the balls cleanly racked.

I gave Chris another glance, hoping that he would look at me before he would take the break of the game, but it occurred to me that he already executed an intelligent break. Damn, he is good at this.

The small crowd small-cheered, while I clapped, smiling ear-to-ear, again. Ever since Chris made his way into my life (or should I say "ever since I made my way into his life"?), my smiles got bigger. Parang laging may dahilan para magpatuloy sa araw-araw, although bakasyon naman na namin ngayon. Without me noticing, Chris was already walking towards me.

"Sayang," I heard Chris mumble as I assumed he missed the ball he was supposed to hit.

"Si Hector naman," the referee said, leaning on a post a meter away from the table.

"I'm rooting for you," I told Chris, seeing him get closer to where I was standing.

"Thank you for being here, my lady," he said, smiling at me and looking back at the table. His opponent, Hector—according to the referee, was already on his second shot after Chris missed his chance again and hit a wrong ball.

"Sorry about that," Chris said, looking at me once Hector earned a good score and once it was finally Chris's turn again.

"Don't apologize to me," I said, but this time, it was as if Chris had worn a distraction-free helmet, and his skills had shown Hector that Chris himself is a worthy opponent indeed.

In no time, Chris made a new addition to his score, and it was a good start. Being unsure of the mechanics of the scoring system, I could still tell that Chris was making a good comeback by the cheer of the small crowd. I was right. He is good at this game. Whenever it was Hector's turn, Chris took every moment to analyze the balls' positions, and it made me proud.

My heart was beating so fast at times, but every time he got to shoot a ball in one of the pockets, I could feel the relief. It was like sharing a heart with him, as I knew that he was also tensed by the atmosphere. Hector's looks were, like, showing how pissed he currently was, and that, too, had given me clues that Chris's score was getting higher that his. I wondered why I couldn't see the scoreboard, if there was any.

"We're near the end, people," the referee said, gesturing the people to come take a closer look.

I glanced at Chris, who was chalking the cue stick in the most perfect way possible, again. His height, his hair, and his skills were, like, telling everyone watching that he was sexily made for this game.

Ugh, that sounds over-the-top and corny.

Again.