“Do you have a death wish or what?” I ask as Julie sinks the 8-ball right into the corner pocket. First shot in the game.

“I guess I do!” She laughs. “Okay, okay. Let’s play another game.” She sets the table up, one more time.

“I hate pool,” I say, sighing loudly.

Julie shakes up the triangle and lifts it up, revealing a perfect set up. “Yeah, well, you hate everything fun,” she says.

“Not everything,” I laugh. “I don’t hate you,” I say. I wanted to tell her that it’s not easy trying to rehabilitate an alcoholic who owns her own bar. That it’s not all fun and games for the girl who’s forced to be the responsible one in the family. But I don’t. I just smile, laugh, and pretend I’m having a good time. Fact is, she has gone through a lot of bullshit and she deserves more from the world.

Our mother, bless her heart, wasn’t exactly the sanest woman on the planet. And when our father selfishly left her for an easier life, he also left two daughters to fend for themselves. I don’t do too much blaming these days, but I don’t run from my history either. It was just part of being in the Skye family, I guess. Julie and I were both messed up in our own ways.

“Alright. You break this time,” she says, holding a beer in her hand.

“You’re going down missy.” I grab the beer from her hand, down it myself, and bend over the table. With one fell swoop the cue rolls over felt and the balls crack away from the impact. It’s like watching the birth of the universe, as a few solid colored balls fall into their respective black holes. Shit, I’m kind of drunk, I think to myself.

“You’re solids,” she says ecstatically, running to the other end of the table. “Watch this.” She pushes the stick lightly and somehow five striped balls disappear from the table. “Bullseye!” she shouts.

“See? I hate this game. You’re too good!” I laugh, trying to find my next shot. Of course, there’s nothing in front of me except a big clump of balls.

“Honey, what do you think I do when I’m on bar here? I get drunk and play pool. Sometimes I serve the occasional drink,” she says. But when I scowl, she covers her mouth because she knows she’s said something wrong.

“You’re not supposed to be drinking, Julie.” And there it is. That anger I buried down last night is starting to boil up again. I feel my face grow hot as I wait for her to defend herself.

“Lighten up. I don’t mean I get drunk, per se. I just mean, sometimes I have the occasional beer. What? Can you blame me?” She’s clearly flustered though, and avoiding all eye contact with me. I’m not mad that she messes up every once in a while. I’m mad that she feels like she has to lie to me about it. It makes me think I can’t trust her.

“Julie, I’m your sister. You can tell me if you’re having a hard time,” I say, but she’s already shaking her head at me.

“I’m fine. Really, I am. It’s your shot.” She derails the conversation entirely and I’m forced to give up on it for now. My sister is a complex woman and she took our dad abandoning us much harder than I did. She wanted a dad to play catch with, someone to go on road trips with, a dad to laugh with. Plus, it’s not like Mom ever gave her a chance. She was too consumed in her episodes to give a shit about Julie. “The absolute let down,” as my mother once called her.

“Fine, whatever. Do what you want.” I bend over and don’t even think about the shot. I crack the ball wildly and land one in. “I’m done playing. This game is boring,” I sigh, setting the stick on the table.

“Good. ‘cause there’s a hot marine looking right at you.” She whispers, walking near me. “Don’t turn around too fast or he’ll know we saw him.

“Ew, a marine? How do you know?” I make a grossed out noise. I wasn’t hot and heavy for those gun-wielding types. In fact, I tried to stay away altogether. I like the bookworms, the anti-alphas of the world. Guys like Elijah. Double gross. Okay, I’ll take a glance. What’s the harm?

I glance over and feel his dark eyes burning a hole through my body. He was just staring like he didn’t care if I knew or not. “Oh, boy,” Julie laughs. “He looks like a wild one, doesn’t he? I wouldn’t mind saddling up for him.”

“Saddling up? Ugh, who are you?!” I try to hold back my laughter, but it comes barreling out of me. She just shrugs and puts the pool cues away.

I actually feel cute for once in my life. After last night’s fiasco, I needed to play a little dress up. I’ve got this denim skirt on, complete with a short black halter-top, and a pair of comfy sheer panties that could kill a man. I’m not even wearing a bra and my tits are barely contained beneath the fabric. Yep, I was ready to make a man beg for me tonight.

“All I’m saying is I think you should go for it. After that whole thing with Elijah, you deserve it,” she says in that all too familiar confident-Julie tone.

“I seem to remember you being the one on your knees in the back seat with my boyfriend.” I try not to scream, but my anger gets the best of me.

“Ex-boyfriend. Besides, he’s got a small cock and he can barely get it up.”

“That is not the point!” This time I scream. Luckily, the bar music drowns out my voice.

“It is totally the point. I was helping you out. You don’t need to be with a loser like that,” she says, somehow with another beer in her hand. Where she keeps getting the bottles, I don’t know. But if she keeps pulling this Houdini shit on me, I’m leaving.

I grab the beer from her hands and mutter “Right. Helping me out.”

She ignores me and continues her stupid rant, “…you need a big cock. A big, fat meaty cock. One with ridges. A throbbing, All-American, weiner. One you can really choke on…”

“Okay, Julie. I get it! Jesus.” I can’t even be mad at her anymore. What she just said was hilarious. And also true. Shit, I do need a big, fat meaty…

“Oh, shit. He’s coming over!” she hisses at me and I can’t stop myself before I turn around.

“Fuck!” I yell, immediately covering my mouth.

“Wow. You’ve got some mouth on you.” A deep voice sounds behind me. I turn around to see two military men standing right over me. They must be two feet taller than me, at least.

“Um. Yeah,” I mutter. Um, yeah? What the hell kind of a response is that, Lena?

The guy in front was clearly the leader of the pack. I say pack because they immediately come off as a pack of wild dogs, ready to get their dinner. I choke down my spit and smile awkwardly, feeling my cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. What am I doing? I should leave right now. I’m a journalist, not some alpha-loving college girl.

“That's okay. I love a woman with the mouth of a sailor,” he says. I feel the weight of his stare and it pushes me back into the pool table.

“Is that what you are? A sailor?” I find myself asking. Fuck. Now that I've engaged the guy, I know there's no possibility of him ever leaving us alone.

“We’re SEAL’s,” he says, displaying his tags proudly.

I shrug, knowing full well how rude I'm coming off. “So like, you were in the army?” I ask him, trying not to laugh. The whole tough guy army thing just wasn't my bag. Plus, he’s standing awkwardly close. His persistence wasn't cute or charming. If anything, it was kind of annoying.

“No, we’re SEAL’s,” he repeats, like I’m slow, not understanding that it means absolutely nothing to me.

His friend, sensing they weren't getting any closer to getting our numbers, jumped in. “What're you two lovely ladies up to tonight?” I couldn't help but notice the silver ring around his finger. What assholes. The guy has a wife and he's trying to get laid? This was exactly why I stayed away from men like them. Misogynists…

“This lovely lady has an assignment due at eight A.M. tomorrow morning,” I say, sliding to the left of the guy.

Just when I think I'm good to escape, my stupid sister has to jump in and ruin everything. “That lovely lady is a lying little bi-atch. We’re both free. What kind of trouble are you SEALs getting into tonight?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck! There she goes again, running her mouth and putting me in awkward situations. And, shit! She has another beer in her hand. What the hell? Well, this night should prove interesting. That, or completely disastrous. I suppose I should be a little more careful when I wish for my life to go up in flames.

Of course, that's when he puts a hand around my waist and changes everything.

“Beautiful, if you want us to leave you alone, just say the word,” he says at almost a whisper. Strangely, I don't say a thing back.