Envy - 2 by Robin Wasserman Read Free Book Online

you going to do about it?”
    “Funny you should ask….”
    Freshly showered and changed from his ratty Lakers shirt and boxers into jeans and a slightly less ratty Red Sox shirt, Adam met Harper in his driveway, and they drove to the 8
    Bal , a pool hal on the outskirts of town. The place was reliably empty on a Sunday afternoon, except for a few die-hard pool sharks and a deathly pale, spiky haired bartender with a thick snake tattoo coiled around the length of his right arm. He waved at Harper as she came in, and Harper grinned back, giving him a sly wink.
    “You know that guy?” Adam asked. But she’d already left his side, flitting over to the bar to order them a pitcher of beer. With a bemused shrug, he fol owed behind and slid into a seat at the bar next to her as she poured them both a mug of Pabst. It was crap, but it was also five dol ars a pitcher—three on Sunday afternoons. The large wooden sign on the wal read CONSERVE WATER: DRINK BEER—and Adam was only too happy to oblige.
    “So, you come here often?” he asked Harper, leering as if it were a pickup line.
    “I get around,” Harper, reminded him. Like everyone else she knew, Harper had a fake ID—not that you needed one in a place like Grace. It was one of those towns where everyone knew everyone else—which meant every bartender in town knew Harper and her friends were underage. Fortunately, it was also one of those towns where none of them cared.
    “I just had no idea this was your kind of place,” he admitted, raising his glass to her (once he’d managed to peel it off the mysteriously sticky tabletop).
    “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” she pointed out, laughing. She downed her beer, then leaped up and tugged him toward one of the pool tables. “Come on, hotshot, time to show me your moves.”
    “I don’t know … ,” Adam hedged. Harper in competitive high gear wasn’t a pleasant sight to see. (After losing a close game of Monopoly in third grade, she’d accused him of cheating, then stuffed two game pieces—the metal thimble and top hat—up his nose.)
    “I’l go easy on you,” she promised. “What—are you afraid of losing to a girl? Chicken?” She started clucking and flapping her arms, and soon the couple next to them—Adam assumed it was a couple, though he couldn’t tel the man from the woman—turned to stare.
    “Enough, woman!” he roared in mock anger, throwing his arms around her from behind in a tight bear hug. “You asked for it.” He lifted her off the ground easily and carried her over to one of the pool tables. She squealed and kicked her feet in the air, but it was no use.
    “I’l only let go if you promise to behave,” he warned her, depositing her in front of one of the tables.
    “As if I’d ever promise to do that,” she giggled, and despite the fact that her arms were pinned to her sides, she began to tickle him—after years of practice, she knew exactly the right spots. Adam shivered with laughter and let go immediately, backing away. She smacked him affectionately on the butt and grabbed a pool cue.
    “Enough playing around, mister. Let’s get down to business.”
    Harper leaned over the pool table, drew the cue back, and, in a single, graceful sweep, knocked it into the cue bal , hitting it dead center. She paused, her chest grazing the soft green felt, her ass only a few inches away from Adam, who hovered behind her waiting for the shot and, she hoped, admiring the way she fil ed out her dark, snug jeans. The cue bal slammed into the eight bal and sent it skidding across the table into the far corner pocket, exactly as she’d planned.
    Victory!
    She spun to face Adam, who shook his head in rueful defeat.
    “I give up, Harper,” he said, throwing his arms up in surrender. “Three games in a row? You’re clearly a better man than I.”
    “Let’s not forget the two darts games in the middle,” Harper pointed out. One of the things she loved about Adam was that he knew