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Garrett sighed with relief once Serena declared him the winner. "Thank you for the ten grand," he said while readjusting the splint. "I think it'll go toward some new furniture..."

"You and me, race to five, fifteen thousand." Garrett glanced at Danny in confusion. The basketball superstar looked more annoyed than angry, but there was no doubt it was all directed at his opponent. "You think I'm going to let you walk out of here with a fucking tie? Put your big boy pants on and give me a rematch."

Sadie was surprised when, of all the people Garrett looked at, it turned out to be Tyler. He was shaking his head, trying to get his friend's attention. When he realized Garrett was staring at him, Tyler silently mouthed one word - "Don't." Garrett answered with an embarrassed shrug before telling Danny, "You're on. Give me five minutes to ice my wrist..."

"Nope. We play now. Rack it," Danny instructed Serena. "I break."

Throughout the next race, Sadie was able to diagnose the shooting styles of the two young men. Danny shot like someone who had a lot of practice. His shots were clean, precise, and measured. Garrett, though, shot like someone who played against opponents. His shots were calculated, but there was always an element of chance to them. As the race went on, he played less defensively and more offensively, focusing more on his shots instead of denying Danny's. If it wasn't for the wrist splint making Garrett shoot left-handed, he might have legitimately wiped the floor with Danny.

Over half an hour later, Garrett stood victorious as he had taken the third race five games to four. Immediately Danny called for a rematch, this time for twenty thousand apiece. Amy confirmed that Garrett could cover the bet, but also called for a five-minute break so people could stretch their legs.

Garrett stopped by the bar before walking over to the hightop, immediately undoing his splint, and setting a paper towel full of ice against his wrist. "How you guys holding up?" he inquired of his friends.

"How are we holding up?" laughed Colette. "I was about to ask if you wanted some of my anti-anxiety meds!"

"I might ask you for some Advil once this is over." Garrett looked over his shoulder. Danny was being berated by Amy, who would turn and berate Tyler as well when he tried to get a word in. "I have him on the ropes," he said in a small, quiet voice. "I can win." After a moment, he looked up at his friends. "Holy shit, is this what self-confidence feels like?"

"Do you think you'll still feel this way tomorrow morning?" Brenda suggested. "Then it might be. You're beating him, Garrett."

"Yeah... but I think I can win. I stick to what's working, don't panic, and I think I can finally win."

"Then go fucking win," Sadie told him. "I already have the victory sex music pulled up on my phone."

X X X X X

"No pain," Danny lied as Tyler checked his shoulder. There was pain, but it was a dull thumbtack that barely reached the joint's muscles. "I can't say the same for West's wrist, though. How the fuck is he doing this?"

"Blind, stupid luck," Amy snorted. "Even the losers get lucky sometimes."

"What's your plan here, Danny?" asked Tyler. "You going to keep playing him until he runs out of money?"

Danny took a deep gulp of ice water before answering. "He's up two races to one. I have to win. Three races to two, four to three, seven to six. He's not walking out of here with a win or a tie. I won't fucking let him."

"I can't talk you out of this, can I?" Danny shook his head at Tyler's question. "OK, then listen to me. He's playing fast and loose. He's shooting cocky and not giving a damn about denying you shots. If he leaves you a good shot, you have to nail it. It's free points off turnovers. Sink those shots and it keeps him from shooting. That's how you win. Take what he gives you and beat him with it."

X X X X X

Gio mumbled a polite curse as Garrett put too much spin on the cue ball, causing it to clip the 7 ball and send it into the railing next to the corner pocket instead of into the corner pocket. Danny easily took the gifted shot and from there sank the 8 and 9 balls, giving him the game and the race five games to four, pulling him even at two races to two. "Again," he told West. "Race to five, we play for twenty-five thousand this time."

Garrett gestured to Kim, who nodded. "I got the cash," he told Danny. "Let's rack them up."

X X X X X

Michelle thought Danny was going to break his stick over the edge of the pool table as, despite groaning as he drove his cue over his wrist splint, Garrett took the fifth game, taking the race five games to three. Before Serena could declare him the winner, Danny called out, "Race to five, bet thirty-five thousand."

"Jesus, Danny." Garrett ran a hand through his messy brown hair before proclaiming, "Fine."

"You better have thirty-five thousand," Danny growled as Serena racked, "or else I'll take it out of your hide."

"Ask Kim. You'll get your money. If you win."

"Where the hell did a loser like you get thirty-five thousand anyway? What did you do in Florida, sell meth?"

"You don't go to Walt Disney World," Garrett answered while casually chalking up his cue, "you don't end up deep in debt to the Mouse."

"Shut the fuck up, West."

X X X X X

They had been playing for over two-and-a-half hours.

A few of their classmates had departed, mainly the ones who weren't locals or townies. Those who remained, however, were enthralled by the contest between Garrett and Danny. The two men were evenly matched, trading races back and forth. Danny would win, pulling him to a tie, only for Garrett to win the next set of games and once again take the lead. One of the men, usually Danny, would offer a rematch for higher stakes, which the other man immediately accepted. Even Sadie had to admit it was masculine dick-waving at its finest - Danny refusing to lose to his high school nemesis and Garrett hoping to get one over on his personal boogeyman.