Kayla grins from across the pool table at me, swaying on her feet intentionally. She bends over and lines her stick up with the ball. And she banks the solid red ball into the corner pocket with ease. She looks up to shoot me a wink. I laugh and shake my head as she knocks the purple ball in a pocket. She misses the next. I step closer to the table and knock the striped blue ball in to the side pocket.
"When'd you get good at this one, Sweetheart?" I ask.
"Practice," Kayla.
"Oh yeah?" I knock my green in, glancing up as I move into position for the orange.
Kayla leans against her stick with her hands loosely curled around the wood. "Yeah."
"And when did you practice?"
"You think I sit around the apartment all day without you? I spend more time in this joint than you think."
I look at the table. "With who?" I miss my shot.
"Myself. I'm very entertaining, you know. Lynnie too sometimes, but she hates it. Occasionally I tag along with the boys. Depends." I look at her again.
Kayla steps up to the table, dragging a finger mindlessly along the edge for a few steps. She lines up and knocks her blue in. She looks at me. "Right corner pocket," she states. I glance at the table and blink. The eight ball is all she has left. It glides into the pocket with ease. "I win, Pretty Boy," she drawls. And I watch her walk slowly to the rack to put her stick away, barely registering my feet as they shove me after her. I step up behind her, reaching past her to put my stick away. I can't see her face, but she shifts her weight into her heels and I know she's grinning. I slide a hand along her waist and hook my fingers in her belt loop. I grin wildly and spin her around, walking her a step back into the wall. Kayla tilts her head back to look up at me. A grin dances across her lips.
"Say my name, La La," I say, my voice dropping a hint lower. "My real name."
She reaches up, trailing her finger along my jaw. "Tell me how."
I lean down. "Don't play me."
"Oh I'm not playing," she flicks her eyes down and uses her lashes to her advantage as she looks up again, "Danny." I run my tongue along the inside of my cheek, chuckling lightly. "Do it," she whispers. "Kiss me. I know you wanna." I don't bother arguing. I just press my lips against hers and bring my other hand to the belt loops on the other side of her waist. And I taste the slightest hint of whiskey from the two shots we've already downed at the bar. It only makes me kiss her harder. Her own hands tug at my belt loops. I shift half a step closer, only for her to pull back and rest her head back against the wall.
"Leaving so soon?" I ask.
She cocks her head at me and smirks. "Wanna fuck me yet?" she counters.
I laugh lowly. "You're insane."
She raises a finger in front of my face. "I have one goal, Danny." Her finger eases itself against my lips. "One goal," she whispers. She draws her finger away and I lean in, aching for her lips again, but she ducks away. Kayla slips away from me and the wall. I spin around after her. She walks to the bar and I follow, shaking my head in disbelief. I take the stool next to her in a heartbeat, flashing my fake and ordering another round of shots.
Kayla sits facing me, but she grabs the glass and knocks it back without a second thought. She slams it back down and shoots me a smirk. "Keep 'em coming, Danny." I wave the bartender over and get more whiskey and some water. Kayla doesn't touch the water, but she downs her shot, then mine before I set my water cup back on the bar. She leans forward, placing her hands on my thighs. "One more?" she asks, moving closer still. Her hands slide upwards along my thigh. My hands land on top of hers.
YOU ARE READING
Bad Boys
Teen Fiction{COMPLETED} Kyle was just Kyle. No last name, no family, no past. It was simple that way. Or at least it was easier than being Daniel, who cared too much to be anything but a coward. Kyle got decent cash from his side job, flunked classes on purpose...
