Sixteen.
I think you were expecting me to break down again when I stopped talking then. I sort of thought so too, but I didn't. I just stared out the window, into what suddenly seemed an empty sky. You ran your fingers through my hair. I half expected you to ask me to keep going, but you didn't. Instead, you pretty much read my mind.
"Do you want to go back downstairs for a bit? Get your mind off things? You can meet my mates, have a drink, play some pool with us..."
"I'd like that," I smiled.
You grabbed my hand as you closed the door behind us. Your two friends were still playing pool, but there were an extra couple empty bottles of beer on the edge of the table. They grinned, sheepishly, as we approached, still hand in hand.
"This is Bec." You explained.
Their grins faded. So you had told them about me. Great. But my anxiety faded as they smiled warmly, and extended their hands.
"That's Tom," you pointed to the tall brunette.
"And that's Harry."
I looked at the blonde in the unbuttoned flannelette shirt over the plain white tee. There was something odd about him; I just couldn't quite figure it out. Then again, it may have just been the fact that I'd bet good money he'd had most of those beers- because Tom still seemed rather sober. Harry? Not so much. He stumbled as he made his way around the table to take the next shot.
"Hey Harry, why don't you let Bec take your shot and come get some drinks and food with me?" You asked.
Harry handed me the cue.
"Do you want anything?" Your voice softened as you spoke to me. I smiled.
"I could go for beer. But something light, I had a few drinks when I came..."
There was an awkward silence after you and Harry left, leaving Tom and I standing on opposite sides of the pool table.
"So you can't play pool, huh?" Tom grinned.
"What makes you think that?"
"Well your cue's growing cobwebs. Take the bloody shot."
"Bring it," I laughed, lined up the shot, and pocketed the ball.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed you watch us from the bar as you conversed with Harry and waited for food. You winked when you noticed.
I got on well with Tom. He was good fun; an easy talker with a deep, pleasant voice. We got talking, and I found out he'd come here from London, to study, originally. Now twenty-one, he was still doing uni, though only part time not full time now. He was studying something to do with information technology in combination with journalism. Something along those lines anyways.
"You must be a smart guy. Shame you're a shitty pool player," I remarked as I pocketed the third consecutive ball.
"Hey, that's not nice." He chuckled.
The four of us spent another hour or so hanging out, talking, laughing, eating and drinking. Things flowed with you and your friends, I don't know why. Guess we just got along well. I was getting tired though. I think you noticed when my mood became mellower, and I was sipping my drink while staring into empty space. We decided to go upstairs, and Harry and Tom did the same. We all exchanged goodnights, and Harry and Tom went into their rooms. I stood, next to you, undecided.
Both of us were about to say something, but you just grabbed my hand and took me to your room.
The furniture was basic, but nice. A fairly low double bed, covered in messed up plain black sheets and two pillows was the centrepiece. There was a bean bag in the corner, and a rather large wardrobe. You had a bed side table- only one, oddly enough.
