Page 81 of Sliding into Love
They shake their head, but they're smiling. I love making them smile like that. Genuine and unguarded, so different from the professional mask they wear in meetings.
I make another move, one I'm pretty sure is legal, and Royce immediately counters it.
"Checkmate," they announce.
"That can't be checkmate. I still have pieces on the board."
"Checkmate doesn't mean all your pieces are gone. It means your king is trapped with no legal moves." They point to the board, showing me the position. "See?"
I study it, then slump back in defeat. "Best two out of three?"
"You just want me to destroy you again."
"Maybe I like watching you in your element. You're good at this. At figuring out puzzles. At thinking ahead. It's impressive." It comes out more seriously than I intended.
Their expression softens. "You're good at strategy too. Just different kinds. Baseball strategy, people strategy."
"Not chess strategy."
"Not yet. But you could be, with practice." They start resetting the pieces. "Again?"
We play three more games. I lose all of them, but I last a little longer each time and start to see patterns I couldn't see before. Royce is patient, explaining moves when I'm confused, pointing out opportunities I'm missing.
"You're a good teacher," I tell them after the fourth loss.
"You're a good student when you stop trying to prove you're already perfect."
The observation hits closer than they probably meant it to. "I don't?—"
"You do." They reach across the board to take my hand. "Kenny baby, you don't have to be good at everything on the first try. You're allowed to learn. To make mistakes. To not be perfect."
"Old habits," I mutter.
"I know. But you're working on it." They squeeze my hand. "And I'll be here to remind you when you forget."
A knock on the door interrupts us. We pull apart as Gillies pokes his head in.
"Hey, sorry to interrupt." He grins, clearly not sorry at all. "Just wanted to let you know that guy I met starts Monday. Thought you'd want to know, Kenny."
"Thanks for telling me," I say, confused about why he's telling me specifically.
"Well, you were asking about him the other day. Figured you'd want the update in case Royce didn’t mention it.” Gillies winks and disappears before I can respond.
I turn to Royce. "I wasn't asking about him. Why did he even come here?”
"He knows that. He's just being Gillies." They start putting the chess pieces away. "Although speaking of North, Ishould probably review his onboarding paperwork. Make sure everything's set for Monday."
"Always working," I tease.
"Says the man who's been answering emails on his phone between chess moves."
"Fair point."
We return to our respective tasks, but there's comfort in it now. Working in the same space, occasionally looking up to catch each other's eye, existing together without needing to fill every moment with conversation.
This is what I want, I realize. Not just the passion and the intensity, but this—quiet afternoons in offices, losing at chess, learning each other's rhythms.
But soon I won’t be here at all. In fact, I’ve got exactly one week left. Can I really let this all go?
