𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐌𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐑, I quietly sipped on my beer, observing my brother Dean charm the hell out of a woman at the bar like he always did. Dean had always been the charismatic one among the trio of us, his confidence and charm shining through in stark contrast to my and Vanessa's more introverted tendencies. A soft chuckle escaped my lips as I witnessed Dean turning on the charm, his signature grin never leaving his face. It was a scene I had witnessed countless times, yet tonight something felt different.
Perhaps it was Vanessa's presence at the opposite end of the bar, commanding the attention of everyone around her, especially in that high-stakes pool game with some guy who had no idea what he was in for. She moved like she was born to this, her dark hair falling perfectly over her shoulders, her eyes laser-focused on the table as she calculated her next move. It was mesmerizing, honestly. There was something about the way she played that game—how she used her presence to get inside the guy's head, to distract him—it nagged at me.
She had always been good at that—using her charm to throw people off balance. And her opponent was falling for it, big time. The way she leaned in to whisper something in his ear, that teasing smile on her lips, it was all part of her strategy. It wasn't just the playful flirting that bothered me—it was the way the guy looked at her, like she was nothing more than an object, something to win or possess. I hated seeing her reduced to that.
Even back when we lived together, she brought guys home from time to time. I never said anything—it was her life, her apartment, too. Maybe it was more than that, though. Maybe what really got to me was the fact that I wasn't the one she was looking at like that. That bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
I couldn't take my eyes off her. The way she moved, the way she played the game, there was something hypnotic about it. Every shot she took, every calculated step, it was like watching art in motion. Her fingers glided over the pool cue as if it was a part of her, and with a smooth flick of her wrist, she sent the ball rolling, sinking her shot effortlessly. The whole room seemed to hang on her next move, and so did I.
