Chapter 2 – Thanks For Playing, Try Again
"Nice shot."
Michonne glanced back at Rick with a coy smirk on her face before watching her 4-ball go whirring into the corner pocket. "Don't patronize me, Grimes."
"I wasn't bein' patronizing," he promised with a small, amused chuckle. He took a sip of his Jack Daniels as he waited for her to take another shot. "I call 'em like I see 'em."
"Uh huh." She eyed the pool table for a long time, trying to decide on her next play, her thumb rubbing at the tip of her cue as she contemplated her move. "When did you get into pool all of a sudden, anyway? We've never done this before."
Rick looked up from his fixation on her hand, shaking his head as he tried to think of the answer to her question. "I've always liked it," he shrugged. "Maybe we were just too busy doin' other things."
She bit her lip, trying hard not to react to his obvious innuendo, and instead noticed that he'd pulled out his phone for the second time in three minutes now. "Where is your girlfriend anyway," she asked, making her way around him to continue studying the table. She knew that assigning that title to someone else bothered him, but she enjoyed watching him bristle every time she said it. "We've been here almost an hour."
He simpered at the fact that she was clearly trying to annoy him, but he was doing his best to maintain what little cool he'd managed in that hour. A little music and liquor had gone a long way to easing the tension between them; it felt like they'd reestablished the rapport he was used to them having, and he didn't want to fuck it up. "She got lost," he answered simply, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. "She'll be here in a minute."
Michonne raised a curious eyebrow, thinking back to the conversation they'd just had back at Hershel's. She was amused, to say the least. "Who doesn't know where Northside Tavern is?"
"She just moved down here," he shook his head, already seeing where she was headed with her line of questioning. "And again, she's not my girlfriend."
"All right," she conceded, though the cheeky smile wouldn't leave her face as she watched him blush. And she continued to prod him for information, genuinely interested in what his life looked like beyond her. "And she's a teacher?"
"The new art teacher," he confirmed.
"Hmm."
Rick took another sip of his drink, watching as Michonne meandered around the table to stand beside him and take her next shot. His eyes focused in on the way she leaned her body over the edge, her delicious ass protruding. The perfect position for him to just drop his drawers and go to town on her right then and there. He began to lick his lips as he watched her. "You have a nice form," he commented as if he were coaching her.
She paused to glance back at him, having a pretty good idea of what he meant by that. "Yeah?"
He nodded. "A nice everything else, too."
Startled by the overt come-on, she took her shot without thinking, and completely missed the side pocket she'd been aiming for. "I hate you," she laughed. "So fucking much."
His eyes stayed on her face, absolutely mesmerized by her blinding smile, even after all these years. "Just bein' honest."
Michonne stood to face him again, eyeing his half-full glass as she listened to the bar crowd clapping in the not-so-distant background. "Are you drunk already?" she wondered.
"I'm gettin' there." He grabbed his pool stick handed her his drink. "Hold that for me?"
"Yes, sir." She rolled her eyes and instantly took a big gulp of the brown liquor, leaving very little for her opponent. Receiving a disgruntled look from him in return, she answered with an offhanded shrug. "I have to catch up."
"You've got plenty of time to catch up." Still, he didn't hesitate to leave her with it, sauntering toward the other side of the table where his 12-ball was just at the edge of the side pocket.
Michonne kept her eyes on his legs as he walked, completely captivated by that swagger of his. Speaking of good forms… "So how long have you and Jessie been dating?" she continued her line of questioning, attempting to sidestep all the naughty thoughts swimming around in her head. "Sounds like she's met everybody."
"We're not dating," he said flatly, "and she hasn't met everybody."
"Everybody but me?"
He cocked his head to the side, effectively shrugging in reply. He wanted to say that she was the only one that mattered, but he refrained from getting so candid so soon. "She didn't know anyone here. I'm just being nice."
She stared back at him, knowing him well enough to know that was probably true. "Hmm."
"Stop sayin' that," he sighed, hating how inscrutable she could be sometimes. "I mentioned I didn't have a date to the wedding, so she's comin'. But we're friends. That's it." He leaned over the table, successfully taking his shot, and then looked to her for approval. Or lack thereof. "Nothin', huh?"
"I'm not gonna compliment you on the easiest shot ever, Rick."
"You're cold."
"We've already established that you're better than me at this. Stop seeking validation."
He moved back toward her side of the room and retrieved his glass from her clutches. "You're one to talk."
"Well that's a low blow," she grinned back at him, though mildly impressed as she quirked an eyebrow at him. "I can think of a few times you needed me-"
"Nope," he cut her off mid-sentence, already knowing where she was headed with it. "I feel like we need more drinks."
His cute little drunken smile told her that they probably didn't, but the whiskey had successfully lubricated the evening, to the point where she'd almost forgotten that they hadn't spoken in the three months prior. It was like picking up where they left off – or even better than where they'd left off, considering that moment in time wasn't particularly great. "I want a margarita," she told him, already knowing he was going to ignore her, because she didn't get along very well with tequila.
With a quick nod, Rick left her with their table, confident it would still be there when he returned, and waded through the crowd to make his way to the bar. Of course it was where he found Daryl, perched on one of the few barstools in the whole filthy place, nursing a beer and a cigarette at the same time. He was watching their buddies' band play, so absorbed by it all, he didn't even notice Rick approaching.
"You havin' fun?" he called out to his friend over the music.
Daryl looked back, somewhat startled to hear Rick's voice, especially when it accompanied the goofy smile on his face – a smile he hadn't seen in months now, not since Michonne left. "Looks like you are."
"I am," he admitted, bashfully scratching at the back of his neck, his intonation sounding more like a question than an answer. He didn't know what caused the sudden shift between himself and Michonne – maybe they just needed a little space to breathe and be themselves again – but he didn't particularly care either. So long as they could be okay. "Things are goin'... strangely well."
"Yeah? Like y'all'll only need one car to get home kinda shit?"
"I mean, we are goin' back to the same hotel, but I wouldn't go that far," he chuckled. He stepped up to the bar, the bartender already preparing his drinks before he could order. "I mean, maybe it's just for tonight, just for right now, but it's just… old times good."
"So that means y'all already fucked in the bathroom?" he joked, having a pretty good idea of what 'old times' were like for those two.
"Jesus," Rick sighed, trying and failing not to blush. "I'm just tryin' to get through the weekend with my dignity in tact."
Daryl nodded, glad to hear the news, if for no other reason than not having to watch his friend mope around for the next couple of days. "Good for you, man."
"Good for you," he retorted, accepting his two new neat whiskeys. "You know I wanted to strangle you when you brought up Jessie."
"Hey, I said I was sorry," Daryl raised his hands in surrender, still truly contrite about his fuck-up. "I told Michonne I was just fuckin' around."
"Well now she's convinced that I'm dating her, so thanks for that." It was obvious Michonne was just teasing him, but he still hated the idea of her thinking he'd moved on when he'd spent the last three months doing just about the opposite.
"Well it got you two talkin', so I'm not apologizing again."
"Yeah, you just stay over here," he said, finishing their conversation just before the rest of the bar erupted into more applause. And with his fists full of Jack Daniels, he returned to where Michonne was waiting for him, handing over her drink with that same happy smile on his face that he left with. "Whose turn was it?"
"Still yours," she gestured, accepting the alcohol just as gleefully. She couldn't help but notice how annoyingly sexy he was in that stupid dirty cap, that gorgeous jawline of his so prominent, it was staring back at her. And his lips. Fuck those lips for being so pretty and wet and stealing her focus, refusing to give it back. "Unless you wanna go watch the band for a bit…"
He glanced back at her, his brow furrowing as he picked up his cue. "You don't wanna play with me anymore?"
Michonne nearly spit out her drink laughing at him, her tipsiness causing her to take his statement sexually. And she punched him in the arm for only intensifying all her wicked thoughts. "You're the worst."
"What did I say?" he grinned, feigning ignorance. "I like playin' with you."
"Yeah, I know you do," she smirked, her voice dripping with innuendo. She picked up her pool stick and stepped back from the table, giving him space to continue the game. "I just figured we could use a break, but if you wanna keep going..."
Rick was about to respond with another flirtatious quip, but before he could speak, a familiar face emerged from the crowd, and all of a sudden, his time alone with Michonne had obviously come to an end. He rolled his eyes, reminded of how much he still hated Daryl at the moment.
"There you are!" Jessie waved, relieved to have finally found her friend.
"Hey," he casually greeted her, glancing at his watch for the time. "I'm glad you made it."
"Yeah, me too," she sighed. She noticed the woman perched a few inches away from Rick and offered a polite smile. "This place is so hard to find. I think I must've driven past it three times before I realized it was here."
He chuckled, but didn't respond, looking to Michonne to introduce her. "Jessie, I want you to meet my friend Michonne. Michonne, this is Jessie."
Michonne smiled back, offering her hand, though she couldn't help but notice how stiff Rick had suddenly become in her presence. "It's good to meet you," she offered.
"You, too," she grinned, looking around the small, crowded tavern. It was the definition of a dive bar with its grimy decor, from the sticky floors to the smoky atmosphere that was almost too much for her to handle. There weren't even enough chairs for most of the patrons. "So this is where you guys hang out?"
Rick shrugged, taking a seat on the table beside Michonne. Being next to her was the only place he felt comfortable, he was realizing. "It was our spot in college, and we just never really stopped comin' back."
Jessie nodded, her eyes landing back on him. Even though it was definitely not what she was expecting, she could see where it could be fun after a few drinks. Especially the dance floor. "Well, I guess I should catch up," she decided, noting that Rick and his friend were enjoying their own drinks already. "Where's the bar?"
"Right through all those people," he pointed back toward the front of the room. "Just look for Daryl."
"Got it," she nodded, wading through her purse for her card. "You guys want anything?"
"We're good," Michonne answered for both of them, mostly out of habit. But she was glad when Rick didn't protest. "But thank you."
"Okay, then I'll be back in a sec."
They both watched Jessie walk away, Michonne giving Rick a knowing gaze once she'd faded into the crowd.
"What?" he asked, detecting hints of judgement in her stare.
"That's her, huh?" With a name like Jessie, Michonne figured she had to be white, but she supposed she expected an artist to be more striking. More unique. But the woman was dressed in a gray t-shirt and cardigan and jeans, her shoulder-length blond hair in a ponytail. Average height, average weight, average face. She was just so... average.
"Umm. Yeah..." he chuckled, standing from the table so that he could face her. He ended up moving in so close, he was damn near between her legs. "Don't tell me you're jealous."
"No," she snorted in response, her eyes flitting from his chin to his shirt, roaming over each of the buttons as she tried to stop herself from imagining unbuttoning them. "I'm just surprised that after me, you would go for… her."
"Somebody's gettin' cocky," he smirked, resting his open hand on her thigh. The liquor had done the same for him, it seemed.
Michonne tried not to react to the contact, but she wanted so badly for him to slide his hand up further. "I just think you deserve better," she said quietly.
"Well I guess it's a good thing I'm not goin' for her then."
She smiled back at him, finally, truly believing him for the first time since he'd said it. She'd been wondering if his denial was perhaps about trying to spare her feelings; and by ribbing him about it, maybe she was attempting to do the same, a means of protecting herself from whatever feelings she might have about it. She was good at using humor as a defense mechanism. But if he was going to stick with that story, she would take his word for it. Especially if that meant she could keep flirting with him without stepping on any toes. "Duly noted," she said. She held up her glass, gesturing for him to raise his, and they clinked them together before taking a sip. "To a good night."
Rick eyed her carefully as she took her drink, noticing the drops of whiskey left on her lips as she finished the swig. And maybe it was just the alcohol talking, but he wanted so badly to lick it off, he could taste it in his own mouth. Instead, he just nodded and held up his glass as well. "To a great night."
Another hour later, they were, indeed, enjoying a great night. The bar had thinned out a bit by 2:00am, the band having finished up their set. But the music and drinks continued, so the group did, too. It was to the point that Rick and Michonne seemed to have forgotten about everyone else as they flirted their way through several more games of pooll, while their friends dropped in and out to spectate.
"You know, I'm startin' to think that I've been had," Rick declared, staring at how many balls he had left on the table, and how few his opponent did. "You said you weren't good at this." Then again, he should've known better, because Michonne was good at everything.
"Maybe you're just not good at this when you're drunk," she commented, eyeing him playfully before taking her next shot.
He walked up on her, so close that his hip brushed against hers. "So you're sayin' you got me drunk?"
"You were the one buying whiskey like it's water," she reminded him. She smiled to herself as she sent her 8-ball rolling toward the corner pocket diagonal from her. "So maybe blame yourself."
"And you just miraculously get better the more you drink," he noted.
"I might've been a little dishonest about my skill set."
He nodded as she stood to face him, those all-consuming eyes of hers daring him to have a problem with it. He only smiled in reply, and his drunken gaze inadvertently darted downward, where he couldn't help but stare down her shirt. They were standing so close, he had a perfect view of her cleavage, practically heaving against him.
"Hey, guys?" Jessie called out to them from the jukebox a few feet away. "If you're done playing, I was hoping to play a round with you, Rick."
Michonne glanced over to Jessie, realizing that she had probably been anticipating them finishing up, when they didn't really have any designs on stopping anytime soon. "Shit, I didn't realize you were waiting," she submitted apologetically.
"I didn't know you were either," Rick appended, hesitantly stepping back from Michonne. "I would've told you we were havin' a bit of a war goin' here. Best outta seven."
"Ah," Jessie nodded, feeling like an idiot for standing there watching them for the better part of half an hour. "Well that's why I was here," she smiled awkwardly. "To hang out with you."
"I'm sorry. I thought you just wanted to watch," he chuckled.
As the two of them continued to reset for their next game, Michonne glanced at Rick's friend, noting how pitiful she looked, sitting there waiting for Rick to notice her. She could see that even if Rick didn't think of her as more than a friend, the feeling didn't seem to be mutual. And while Michonne didn't owe this woman much of anything - especially given she only had the weekend with him while Jessie ostensibly had an entire school year, at least - she felt bad for monopolizing his time. "Why don't you come join him," she suggested.
Jessie looked back at her in a mixture of surprise and confusion. "I'm sorry?"
"Come on over and help him out," Michonne repeated. "I mean, he clearly needs it."
Rick scoffed at her obvious dig as he rolled the last remaining ball across the table toward her. "Yeah, come on over," he agreed. "We need more drinks?"
Jessie grabbed her own watery cocktail from the top of the jukebox and moved to join them. "I'm definitely good," she declined, knowing she would be driving home within the next hour or so. "How many have you guys had anyway?"
"Shit, I'm sure we've finished a whole bottle at this point," Rick pondered, looking back at Michonne.
"I think we did," she giggled. "It feels like we did."
"You're a bad influence."
"Guilty as charged," she returned, her words ever-so-slightly slurred as they came out.
He was just about to turn back to Jessie when he realized what she'd said. Or what he thought she'd said. "Did you just say, 'Filthy as charged?'" he laughed.
Michonne cackled in response, showing off the full range of her gorgeous smile. "What?"
"No?"
"You're hearing what you wanna hear, Grimes."
"Or maybe I heard what you meant," he shot back, unable to contain the flirtatious smile on his face.
"Guys," Jessie inserted, clearing her throat. "Are we playing, or no?"
"Yeah, yeah, come on," Michonne was patting the table as she spoke. "You guys can go first since Rick lost the last game so epically."
"You're so kind," he retorted sarcastically. He handed an extra pool stick to Jessie and grabbed his glass, heading for where Michonne stood, wanting to survey the table from the cue ball's point of view. "Mark my words, Bordelon. I'm winnin' this one."
"Sure," she grinned. She'd always loved the way he said her last name – and her first name, for that matter – but especially now, with his drawl becoming more prominent after a few drinks. It made her insides tingle. His voice was so deep and warm and smooth, it was like taking a shot of whiskey.
As if he could read her mind, he handed over what was left in his glass and inched a bit closer to her. "Drink."
"Unlike you, that's not gonna make me play any worse." That didn't stop her from taking a sip, that welcome fuzzy feeling hitting her hard as the alcohol coated her throat.
"What game are you guys on?" Jessie questioned abruptly. She was wondering how much longer she would have to endure the two of them together like this, pretending she wasn't even there.
"This is our fourth," Rick replied. "I think."
"Are you in a rush?" Michonne wondered.
"No. Just wondering," she lied, examining the table herself. "So Michonne, you're up two?"
"Yep."
"For now," Rick appended, still staring at his rival for the night. "Hell, I'm pretty sure that's why she hasn't moved outta the way. She's scared she's gonna lose."
"Oh, excuse me." She grabbed her pool cue and their liquor and backed up. "I didn't realize…"
"Uh huh…"
"So what does the winner get?" Jessie continued to inquire. "Just bragging rights, or are we playing for something?"
"Winner gets head from the loser," Michonne answered casually, causing both Rick and Jessie to look at her in shock. Her smile was bursting past her lips as she glanced briefly at her friend, and then settled on his friend. "I'm kidding, obviously."
"Of course," she replied, forcing herself to laugh. But with the way Rick kept looking at Michonne, she honestly wasn't sure it was a joke.
Rick began to set up for his shot, removing the rack from the surface, setting it on the hook underneath the table. "Bragging rights is all you really need in this group."
Michonne watched Rick from behind as he bent over the table to take the first shot. His cute little ass in those jeans. It was hard not to imagine him being similarly bent over her as he fucked her from the back. She took another drink, even though she knew the alcohol was only making her hornier at that point. "Good luck," she called out to him, purposely startling him as he made his move.
He stood up, watching as the cue ball barely broke through the pyramid, and he peered back at her with his head cocked to the side. "Really?"
She looked back at him innocently. "Sorry?"
"You see how she treats me?" he joked to Jessie. "Playin' dirty."
"Not cool," Jessie agreed, smiling back at him.
Michonne approached the table with all the confidence liquor could provide, eyeing Rick seductively as she returned their drink to his clutches. "You're the one that said I was filthy, so I'm not sure what else you expected."
He bit his bottom lip, watching her slink past him, circling him and the table like they were her prey. "Well thanks for proving me right."
"No problem," she grinned cockily. As she continued to analyze the table for the best route to go, she noticed the rest of their party approaching, both Daryl and Tara looking about as intoxicated as she felt. "Why are you two sweating?" she grinned at them once they made it closer.
"We were dancing," Tara answered, although she felt that should've been obvious. "You didn't see me on the stage?"
Michonne chuckled, because the stage was all of three inches off of the main floor. "I did not..."
"And when'd you get here?" Tara greeted Jessie with a high five. "I didn't even know you were coming."
"Just like an hour ago," she shrugged in reply. "Rick mentioned it earlier and I thought it sounded like fun."
"Did you like the band?" Daryl pointed at her as though he were defying her to say otherwise.
"Oh. Yeah," she nodded. "They were great."
"Where is Jesus anyway?" Rick wondered, trying to peer through the crowd to find him. "Did he leave already?"
"No, he's signing autographs," Tara rolled her eyes. "And taking girls' numbers that he's never gonna use."
"We were gonna head out in a little bit and kick it with them if y'all wanted to come," Daryl informed the rest of the group. "He lives over by Grant Park."
Michonne only laughed, already knowing she wasn't going to make it that far. The only reason she'd made it this long was because of the time zone switch and sleeping through her flight. "I'm gonna get off this train here then," she declared, her eyes finding Rick's for what had to be the hundredth time that night. "I need some rest so I can look good tomorrow."
Rick had to stop himself from telling her that she always looked good. But then, he figured she probably knew that anyway. "Party pooper."
"You're back in Atlanta for what? Two days? And you're gonna use that time to sleep?" Daryl teased her, though mostly for Rick's benefit, as he knew he wouldn't want her to leave. "Come on, 'Chonne."
"Well someone needs to be a responsible adult," she retorted, eyeing her other three friends in the wedding party. "We can finish our game, and then I'm gonna get an Uber back to the hotel."
"All right, but you're gonna be missin' out, girl."
She was pretty sure she'd be okay without sitting around in a virtual stranger's house, getting high and listening to more music. "I'm sure you'll regale me with the details tomorrow."
"Well," Jessie cut in, more than ready to move on to something else. In the little time she'd interacted with them that night, she understood that Michonne had been away for a while, from what seemed to be a very close-knit group. But she couldn't take all the fawning over her. "Should we go on with the game then?"
"Actually, you guys can keep going while I run to the bathroom," Michonne offered, handing over her cue to Daryl. "Play for me?"
"All right."
"And don't fucking lose to him," she warned. "I'm up two games."
"Hey, be careful in the bathroom," Tara reminded her. "It's actually even worse than it used to be."
She chuckled in reply, though she was genuinely scared to find out what that meant. Still, she drunkenly sauntered off toward the ladies' room, not particularly surprised when she heard Rick's footsteps behind her – she'd know the sound of those boots anywhere. His hand gently wrapped around her arm and she innately smiled before turning to face him. "Why are you stalking me," she tilted her head to the side, gazing at him as if it were her first time seeing him.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I just wanted to be alone with you again."
She leaned against the wall, still staring him up and down, wanting him to move in closer. "In the tiny hallway of a dingy bar?"
"Anywhere." It was almost hard to believe he'd started off the evening barely able to look at her, because now, he couldn't stop. He'd had his eyes on her since they walked into Northside Tavern, and he was feeling particularly brazen, ready to take the opening she seemed to be giving him. Her face was absolutely breathtaking, her sexy stare consuming him. He moved in close, placing his hands on her slim hips as he licked his lips. God, she was gorgeous. "Stick around," he whispered.
Michonne wasn't sure what to say, even though her body seemed to be very intently reacting to his touch. His boozy breath bathed her face, and when he looked down her shirt, his hands roaming up her sides, she could feel it on her neck. God, she wanted to kiss him. "Rick…" But she also had a pretty good idea that it was the alcohol conducting this silent conversation between them, and the last thing she wanted was a drunken hook up with her ex the night before her best friend's wedding. "We broke up for a reason," she said, placing her hand on his chest to put the slightest bit of distance between them.
Rick looked down disappointedly, wishing she wasn't insistent on reminding him of that. With the night they'd been having, he could barely remember what that reason was. All that mattered to him were the million reasons they should've still been together.
"Jessie likes you," she submitted softly, dipping her head to try and meet his gaze again. "Maybe you should give that a try."
"An hour ago, you said she wasn't good enough for me," he recounted for her since she seemed to have forgotten. "Maybe you should stop using her as a way of keeping me at arm's length," he added, granting her wish to look her in the eye. He studied them, in fact, searching for signs of what she really wanted here. When she left him, he had to accept that she was doing what she wanted, that she was going off to be happy. But everything about the moment told him that she wanted this, wanted him, so he couldn't understand why she was quite literally pushing him away. "Tell me you don't feel something right now."
Truth be told, she was feeling a lot of things, including him and that bulge growing in his pants, which certainly wasn't helping. And she wanted to say as much, or at least something funny to ease the tension between them, but nothing was coming out. It was impossible to lie to Rick - he knew her too well to even try - so her defense mechanism was failing her now. "I should go," she said eventually. That was all she had.
"Michonne…" He sighed, obviously exasperated, but backed away, allowing her space to leave, as much as he didn't want her to. On the bright side, at least he got to watch her walk away. "I'll see you tomorrow."
She smiled back at him, thankful for the reminder that whatever this was, it wasn't over yet. Probably not by a long shot. "Yes, you will."