The hallway back to the pool table seems longer. Darker. The noise of the crowd muffled. I hear the sound of my own breath—in and out, slow and methodical. The click of my heels. The pounding beat of the music matching the steady rhythm of my heart. I feel Jack’s gaze on my back as I walk away, shoulders higher, head up, a swing in my hips, the faintest of smiles on my lips as if all of this is a game.
And in a way, it is. It’s all a game. But tonight, it’s my game. A game I can’t lose. A game I won’t lose.
My confidence has me drawing in a deep breath. Chest expands, head almost drunk on the oxygen. Each step forward, I find my armor. I put it on like a soldier. The high heels of distraction, the black dress of protection, the invisible helmet of shrewdness, the vision that allows me to
