Page 47 of Chess Not Checkers
“Thanks for telling me some of your story,” I say with a smile.
Her hand squeezes mine, making my stomach swoop. “Thanks for listening.” She slips her hand away, and I instantly miss the contact. “I think I earned this chocolate.”
I chuckle. “You definitely did.” I clear my throat. “Is it hard to talk about your family? I was going to ask about you wanting to be a chef and how it relates to your mom, but I don’t want to make you share more if it’s too painful.”
She breaks off a square of chocolate with a small smile on her rosy lips. “It isn’t easy, but sometimes it’s nice. I don’t get to talk about her a lot without people looking at me in pity or acting awkward. So if you promise to do neither, I’ll tell you about her.”
I hold up three fingers. “I promise. Scout’s honor.”
She laughs around a bite of chocolate. Once she finishes the bite, she speaks again. “My mom was a great cook. She traveled a lot and learned from every place she visited. She wasn’t thetourist type. She loved to volunteer in the communities she visited, and whenever she did that, it usually led to her being invited to someone’s home for dinner.”
I smile. “She sounds amazing.”
Jasmine’s whole demeanor is soft and open. The teasing, feisty side of her is fun, but getting to see her like this is something else entirely. Something that makes my heart race.
“She was. My dad said she was a mom to everyone she met, even people older than her. She was magic in the kitchen, too. I’ve never seen anyone who could combine flavors the way she did. I try, but I don’t think I’ll ever come close.”
“Yours is phenomenal. I’m sure she’d be proud.”
Jasmine smiles. “She would be, but she was always proud of me. So was my dad. Dahlia took after him and became a therapist. They were close because of that, and my mom and I had our own special thing in the kitchen. Though, we were all pretty tight-knit.”
I don’t say anything to that, because I don’t know what it’s like. Besides, I already shared enough tonight. If I told Jasmine anything else, she might get overwhelmed and bolt.
“That’s really cool that you each took after them,” I say instead.
“Thanks,” she replies before taking another bite of chocolate. Some of it smears in the corner of her mouth.
“You’ve got a little chocolate.” I gesture to the coordinating side of my mouth. She tries to get it but smears it instead. I chuckle at the endearing sight. “Here, I can help.”
Without thinking, I reach across and brush the pad of my thumb along the corner of her mouth. The chocolate comes off, but I freeze when I realize what I’ve done. Her green eyes are wide as they stare into mine, but she doesn’t push me away. Blood rushes in my ears. Everything I told her about my plansfor the future goes up in smoke at the prospect of kissing her. Who needs football when she’s right here?
I lean in ever so slightly. Jasmine’s warm breath caresses my skin. I’m about to close the distance when the door opens. We both jerk back in sync, likely looking ultrasuspicious. A man I don’t recognize pokes his head in.
“Jolene?” he calls out, then looks at us. “Have you guys seen a woman named Jolene in here?”
We shake our heads. The man sighs and leaves again. My chest feels like a drumline has taken up residence behind my sternum.I almost kissed Jasmine.I glance at her, but she’s looking at the ground.
“It’s getting late—” I say at the same time she says, “I should probably go to bed.”
We both let out a nervous laugh.
“I’ll see you in class next week?” I ask.
She nods, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Yeah, see you then.”
I stand and shove my hands in my pockets. A part of me wants to hug her after all she shared, but that feels like a bad idea after what just happened. If the person who walked in on us had been someone we knew, there’s no way we could have made them believe anything other than the truth. I was going to kiss Jasmine Chamberlain. And she was going to let me.
Chapter twenty-five
Vulnerable
Jasmine Chamberlain
“I almost kissed Shepherd Kingsley,” I blurt from my spot on the couch.
The girls freeze in their individual activities. Aurora is stretching on the floor, her insanely long legs stretched into an oversplit I will only ever dream of accomplishing. Marigold has been marking through a physical copy of her latest article with a bright orange pen in solidarity of Saylor’s hatred of the color. Saylor herself is in her usual study position on the floor surrounded by organized piles of color-coded notecards and stacks of tabbed textbooks.
I was doing homework for one of my business classes, but ever since Saturday, all I can think about is how close I got to kissing Shepherd. It’s now Monday night, and the first time all of us girls have been in one room since then.
