The Boyfriend League by Rachel Hawthorne

glad to see I’d survived the conking on the head?
    Jason racked up the balls and let me break. The balls scattered, but none slipped into any pockets. He gave me one of his rare slow, sexy smiles before bending over to the task at hand. He pointed to the red ball and then the corner pocket. Then he proceeded to make it happen.
    Actually, I didn’t mind watching him, watching him move around the table, watching his concentration.
    â€œI think you can beat him.”
    I glanced over my shoulder and smiled. Mac was standing there wearing a jersey. Not his team jersey. This one had Mickey Mouse written across it, obviously a souvenir from a vacation at Disney World. “Hi.”
    â€œHow’s the head?”
    â€œYou know, I’m thinking about making a sign that says, ‘I feel fine’ and hanging it around my neck.”
    â€œSo it wasn’t an original question?”
    â€œNo, but it was nice of you to ask.”
    â€œHey, I’m a nice guy.”
    â€œYour turn.”
    I jerked around. Jason was standing there. His smile gone, his expression serious.
    â€œYou missed?”
    â€œYep.”
    â€œOkay, then.” I went to the table. He hadn’t missed much. Other than the white one, the table had one solid ball remaining. The others—mine—were striped. I leaned over the table.
    â€œWant me to help you beat him?” Mac asked, his arms coming around me, his hands resting over mine. “Loosen up.”
    I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to do that with him being so close, with me being able to feel the heat from his body. I swallowed hard, barely aware of anything other than his directing the cue stick. We hit the white ball that hit a yellow striped ball that sent an orange striped ball into the side pocket.
    â€œSee? Easy,” he said in a low voice near my ear.
    â€œThink I’ve got it,” I said, not entirely comfortable with him being so close. I didn’t know why. Maybe because I was acutely aware of Jason watching us.
    Mac backed off, and I moved around to hit another ball. But I must not have lined everything up properly, because again nothing went into any pockets.
    Jason moved into position and promptly pocketed the last solid ball, then all the striped ones.
    â€œHow about letting me have a turn at playing Dani?” Mac asked.
    â€œSure,” Jason said. “No problem.”
    He handed Mac the stick, then walked toward me. When he got near, he pulled the cap from his back pocket and settled it on my head. “It’ll keep the light out of your eyes. Improve your game.”
    Then he walked out of the room, probably to get something to drink. I lifted his hat up, settled it back into place. It did help with the light, but I wondered if there was more to it than that. If maybe he was staking a claim.
    â€œYou can break,” Mac said, as though my wearing Jason’s hat held no significance whatsoever.
    He beat me almost as soundly as Jason had. When we were finished, he handed off thecue sticks to two guys waiting to play.
    â€œListen, some of the guys have been talking about this free concert on Sunday night. I was wondering if you want to go.”
    â€œYou mean with you?”
    He laughed. “You see anyone else standing here asking?”
    I nodded. “Yeah, sure, I’d like that.”
    He flashed a big grin and tugged on the brim of my cap. “Great. I’ll see you Sunday.”
    He strode to the far side of the room and started talking to some of the other players. I realized we hadn’t discussed details, like time, place, dress, but then I figured it would work out. And I’d see him at the game tomorrow. I looked around for Bird, but I didn’t see her anywhere.
    I walked out of the room and spotted Jason sitting at a table, drinking from a brown bottle. Was he drinking beer?
    But when I got closer, I saw it was root beer.
    â€œHey,” I said, wondering why I was either short