Hot & Nerdy by Shannyn Schroeder Page B

be to act cool? “Are you going to stare all night, or are we going to play?”
    She didn’t know if he’d remember their first conversation, and thought repeating his first words to her would sound sarcastic, but a shadow crossed his eyes.
    â€œCan we talk?” His question was quiet and intimate. His presence pulled her in, but she fought it.
    Walking past him, she said, “I’m not here to talk. I want to practice. I’ll rack.”

    All of the air had been sucked out of the room. Phin waited to watch people drop dead. He glanced around and realized he was the only one struggling for breath.
    Never.
    That’s exactly when he thought he’d see Layla again. Except on his computer. After he hit the road, he sank some of his money into a cheap laptop just so he could check up on her. He knew she had graduated and gotten a job, but he’d had no idea she’d planned on joining the tournament.
    Layla was here. Acting cool as anything. He didn’t like this side of her. He liked her hot and frenzied, angry, or laughing. Anything but indifferent. He turned toward the table, forcing air into his lungs. He wouldn’t let her stay distant. If she hated him, he could understand, but to act like they’d never had something special was a different situation. That was unacceptable.
    She had the balls racked and her beer sat on the table behind her. She wanted to play; he’d give her a game. He shot her a smile. “I’ll break.”
    One shoulder lifted as if it didn’t matter, and she went back to her beer. He made his first shot, sinking nothing. He couldn’t remember the last time he broke without sinking a single ball. Months later and Layla was still fucking with his head. He couldn’t let her get to him. Not for this tournament.
    Layla grabbed a pool cue and walked the table. Phin read her shirt. C OMPUTERS ALLOW YOU TO MAKE MISTAKES FASTER THAN ANYTHING ELSE . W ITH THE POSSIBLE EXCEPTION OF A HANDGUN OR TEQUILA .
    â€œNo math shirt?”
    â€œDouble major, remember?” She leaned over the table and lined up her shot.
    â€œTequila. I’ll keep that in mind when I want you to make a mistake.”
    She paused and looked up at him. “I’m finished with those kinds of mistakes.”
    â€œWe’ll see.”
    She struck and sent the four into the side pocket. She walked the table and called her shots. Phin barely focused on the table. Layla had gotten worlds better. Competitive didn’t begin to describe this kind of determination. When it was his turn, he half-assed it, wanting to see her work the table.
    â€œLook, if you’re not going to really play, get away from the table. I’m here to win.”
    â€œI thought pool was fun.”
    â€œThings change.”
    He studied her face, searching for proof of what he wanted to see, that she still cared about him. Yeah, things changed, but everything couldn’t just disappear, could it? Then an idea struck. “Fine. What are we playing for?”
    She reached into her pocket and slapped a twenty on the table.
    â€œI don’t want your money.”
    She flinched and he saw the pulse at her neck quicken, her throat work as she swallowed. He wanted his mouth on that spot.
    â€œWhat do you want?”
    â€œA kiss. I win, I get to kiss you.”
    She snorted. “No way.”
    â€œWhat’s the big deal? If you’re over me, a kiss shouldn’t matter.”
    Her spine stiffened. Oh, yeah, she was determined. “Fine. What do I get if I win?”
    â€œI’ll let you take me back to the hotel and have your way with me.”
    â€œBeen there, done that, burned the T-shirt.”
    Phin took a step closer. She wavered, but didn’t step back. Stubborn thing, his Layla. He froze. His Layla? “What do you want?”
    She narrowed her eyes. “Nothing.”
    He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “I’ll go down on