Page 2 of Chess Not Checkers
Professor Kelton—whom I met at the club fair last week—looks up from observing a match and smiles at us. “Shepherd! I’m so glad you could make it,” he says.
“I’m happy to be here,” Shepherd replies with an easygoing grin.
I wait for acknowledgement. It comes, but not in the way I was hoping.
“Did you bring a friend?” Kelton asks as if we haven’t met before.
“No,” I say quickly—too quickly. Shepherd raises a brow at my protest. “My name’s Jasmine Chamberlain, Professor. I met you at the club fair.”
“Oh, yes, I recall now. I’m sorry, the excitement of Shepherd joining us for another semester made me lose my head,” Kelton chortles.
My polite smile dims. “No problem. I’m really excited to be here. I can’t wait to learn more about the game,” I say, trying not to cringe at how awkward I sound. I’m not shy, but this whole interaction has not gone the way I planned, and I don’t know how to recover.
“You came at the perfect time!” Professor Kelton cheers, boosting my mood a little. “Shepherd is a great teacher. Many of the other members can attest. I think it would be great for you to pair up with him for a few weeks. When he’s here, of course. He is a busy man leading his team to victory!”
Shepherd scratches the back of his neck as if the praise is awkward for him to hear, too, but I don’t buy it. There’s something in the way he holds himself that makes me think he enjoys being talked up.
“Oh—uh—” I stutter. Professor Kelton wears an expectant grin. “Okay, that would be good.”
The professor claps his hands together. “Excellent! A prodigy and his protégé. What a combination.”
I frown. How does he know I’m not a prodigy, too? I’m not, but Icouldbe.
“Wanna take that table by the window?” Shepherd indicates an empty table set up with a chessboard. Sunlight pours through the glass, the outline of a nearby tree shadowing the tabletop. It’s a spot I would have naturally gravitated toward, which makes me upset that he chose it. Irrational, but feelings usually are. At least, that’s what my sister, Dahlia, says, and she’s a therapist, so I think I can trust her words.
I shrug. “Sure.”
We walk over and take seats across from each other. A Thrashers-themed chessboard with blue-and-white squares sits between us. Shepherd sets up the board, arranging the blue pieces on his side while the white pieces go on my side. I would have chosen blue if he’d asked.Don’t be a brat, I scold myself.The color of the pieces doesn’t determine a win. You do.
“How about we forgo the timer for this first round?” Shepherd asks amicably.
“Sounds good,” I say with a tight smile.
Nothing is going how I wanted it to, but that’s okay. I’ve been practicing and learning since I last saw him beat Grayson. I simply have to win and prove to Professor Kelton that I’m great in my own right and don’t need hisprodigy’shelp. And once I get my victory, I can call Grayson and tell him he didn’t waste his time on me.
We begin the game, and I train all my focus on the board. I don’t look up once. Not that I could if I wanted to, since playing against Shepherd requires above-average focus. He makes his moves faster than I can predict, much less plan my own. I move my knight, then scan the board again. The blood drains from my face.
“Checkmate,” Shepherd declares.
I lift my gaze and catch him smirking.
“That was fun. I’m looking forward to playing against you this semester. Or should I say, beating you?” he jokes with a boyish grin, his annoyingly gorgeous blue eyes twinkling.
“I wouldn’t get used to this. It won’t be a normal occurrence,” I reply casually.
His grin widens into something playful and lined with mischief. “We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”
Chapter two
Villain Origin Story
Shepherd Kingsley
Being a prodigy is not as fun as it sounds. In theory, I should be living the high life. My cheeks should constantly be aching from smiling so much. Sometimes that’s the case. But most of the time, the pressure to perform feels like hands wrapped around my neck in a vise grip, squeezing tighter and tighter. I never drop my smile, though. How could I? If I complained or showed discomfort, my honesty would be met with ire. Rightfully so. My life is picture perfect. Star quarterback, scouts at every game, friends galore, college paid in full, plus millions in the bank. I’d punch me if I heard me complaining.
And yet, the pressure doesn’t ease up. It just worsens and worsens. Taking a full breath feels like a luxury at this point. Which is why, sitting across from Jasmine Chamberlain, I find myself grinning like a fool. Because I canbreathe. The weight on my chest is gone. It’s just me and this gorgeous woman verbally sparring while playing my favorite game outside of football.
“Did you know you get two little lines between your eyebrows when you’re angry?” I ask as I move one of my pawns.
