No More Waiting, She Chooses Love

I shifted my gaze to the newcomer suddenly standing beside me.

With slightly curled black hair and a pair of piercing blue eyes, it was clear from his hooked nose that he was of mixed heritage, a blend of Eastern and Western features.

He greeted me as if we were old acquaintances, calling me "the Snooker Girl," yet I couldn't recall ever meeting him before.

"Hmm?" I frowned slightly, puzzled.

"My name's Brown. Saw you playing pool at Jefferson's place with him. You were... cool! No, the word is 'slick'!" He gave me a thumbs-up.

His explanation cleared up some of my confusion, but something still felt off. I learned how to play from Conrad, and I only played with Jefferson Daniels when Conrad was around. We hardly ever had outsiders join us.

If someone like him had been there, I definitely would've noticed. Yet, he described it with such accuracy that it was clear he had seen us.

But I wasn't interested in getting to know strangers, especially not those connected to the world of snooker.

"You've got the wrong person," I denied.

"No way,

it was definitely you," he insisted, his blue eyes locking onto mine. "Your name is... Jo, Joanna, right?"

The fact that he knew my name only made me more reluctant to interact with him.

A stranger knowing my name, regardless of his intentions, was a sign of trouble.

"Sorry, I don't know you," I said, turning to leave, but he blocked my way.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

"I mean no harm. I just want to be friends."

I felt a surge of irritation. "I'm not interested in being friends. Move."

"I just want to play a game with you," he persisted.

My annoyance grew. "Move."

I was stern, hoping he'd take the hint and back off. Instead, his excitement seemed to increase. "You're as fierce as your game."

His compliments made my skin crawl.

"If you don't move, I'll call for help," my patience running thin.

"Felicia, I really think you and I could have a great game. Trust me, I'm every bit as good as Jefferson. You'l have a new experience, believe me," he said with confidence, stepping closer in a way that felt threatening.

So, when he got too close, I instinctively kicked at his foot, a defensive move I was good at.

He winced in pain, his patience

apparently wearing thin as well. eliciat to use your people's words, you're ungrateful. I'm offering you a game as a sign of respect."

His so-called respect was the last thing I wanted.

And his insistence on playing a game felt more like harassment.

With Jefferson recently facing trouble in Houston, any mention of him made me wary.

I had no desire to deal with this man

е

any longer and turned to walk away, but he grabbed my arm with a " vicedike grip, sending a jolt of fear through me.

"Let go," I struggled.

Instead of releasing me, he pressed closer. "Play a game with me, and I'll let you go."

Before I could respond, another arm intervened.

"What's going on here?" Grant stepped in, scolding the man while forcefully pulling his wrist away.

"I just wanted to play a game with her," Brown explained.