vagabond ; mc

eight ;

Dahlia ended up crushing Michael. He had only taken one shot at the object balls, pocketing two, but then scratching when aiming for the third. Dahlia placed the cue ball strategically and aimed with precision. She pocketed ball after ball in ascending order, Michael watching in awe. Then she finally aimed at the nine ball, the ball she needed to pocket to win.

She glanced up from the table, meeting Michael's eye. She smirked at him as she let the pole slide through her fingers, hitting the cue ball and sending it rolling towards the nine ball. Like she expected, it rebounded off the side of the table and went straight into the corner pocket.

She straightened with a triumphant smile on her lips. Michael shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you hustled me," he said, his voice incredulous.

Dahlia rounded the table, lighting hitting his shoulder. "C'mon, its just a story," she teased. "Besides, now you know something about me other than I work at a diner and live alone."

"True," Michael commended her. He held his hand out for her cue stick and she handed it over. Michael placed them back on the rack for someone else to use. "I'm just glad we didn't bet money."

"I wouldn't take your money even if I did win," Dahlia told him as they headed back to the table. "But cough it up, I earned a well told story."

Michael laughed, but nodded. "Okay, let me think," he said, eyes glancing to the ceiling as he sifted through some of his most prominent memories. "Alright, I was in Rome. And don't yell at me for it being Italy again, I thought it was relevant."

Dahlia held her hands up in surrender. She was just happy she was getting a story from Michael's travels.

"So we had just come from Austria," Michael explained. Dahlia made sure to remember that he said 'we' and not 'I.' "We hitched a ride on this fruit truck. We literally sat in between boxes of apples because it was the only spot open," he laughed.

Dahlia watched as his eyes lit up as he told the story. She had never quite seen Michael like this before. She could tell he was passionate, that he poured his heart out into everything he did, even if he was telling a story about hitching a ride on a truck full of apples.

"So you didn't have to pay?" Dahlia asked, and Michael shook his head.

"The driver said as long as he didn't take us anywhere specific, he wouldn't make us pay. So we rode the whole way to where he was originally headed. Which just happened to be Rome," he clarified.

Michael was about to start again when the waitress returned with their meals. She set the plates down in front of them, telling them to enjoy. Once she was gone, Michael continued on with his story.

"The only problem was that we arrived late in the evening," he said as he cut into his steak. "There wasn't a hotel that would accept us. And we didn't even think of asking the fruit guy before he was already gone," he said, popping a piece into his mouth.

"So what did you do?" Dahlia asked, intrigued. She had ignored her salad completely, listening to Michael retell his Italian adventure.

"Well," Michael finished chewing. "We walked around for a little while sight seeing. And in one of the alleyways was this ladder. And our of pure curiosity, we climbed up it and onto the top of the building."

"That's so cool," Dahlia smiled.

"Yeah," Michael agreed. "It had the most beautiful view of the city. For miles in every direction you could see the city lights. It was absolutely breathtaking," he elaborated. Dahlia would have wanted nothing more to be with him in that moment, looking out across the city from atop a building.