Page 51 of Chess Not Checkers
Shepherd: I’ll be there in ten minutes.
My eyes widen. I should have realized that his time was limited and he’d want to come over soon, but it didn’t hit me until I saw it in writing. I jump up from the spot where I was studying and rush to my room to change and fix my hair. I pull off my sweats and slide on a navy tennis skirt and pair it with a white camisole with lace accents.
“Is this too much?” I murmur as I stare at my reflection in the mirror, then decide I don’t have enough time to question my instincts.
I pull my hair out of the bun it’s in and groan when it explodes into a frizzy poof. Why was I cursed with curly hair? Dahlia never has to deal with this. I grab a spray bottle that has conditioning product mixed with water and start to spritz my curls to try and tame them. I’m going to pull it up in a ponytail, so it doesn’t have to be perfect, but I’d prefer it not be troll-adjacent.
Ponytail managed and outfit changed, I coat my lips in a glossy balm and head into the kitchen to set out what we’ll need for a lesson. I thought making pasta sounded like a fun idea, andthe ingredients are simple. It shouldn’t be hard to teach him that and then show him how to make pasta sauce from canned tomatoes.
I clean off the kitchen island, then set out flour, eggs, olive oil, and salt. I’m pulling out ingredients for the sauce when I hear a knock at the door.
“Coming!” I shout as I set the can of crushed tomatoes down next to the stove.
When I open the door, Shepherd is standing with his hands in the pockets of his black sweats.
“Hi.” I greet him awkwardly.
He smiles down at me. “Hi.”
“Do you want to come in?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Would be kinda weird if I came all this way and didn’t.”
I roll my eyes. “Come on, before I change my mind and lock you out.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” he says as he walks inside.
“Try me.”
He slides off his sneakers. It makes me smile that he remembered what I said about Saylor’s house rule.
“What are we making? Or are we playing chess first?” he asks as we walk toward the kitchen.
“I figured we could cook first, then enjoy the fruit of our labor while I beat you at chess.”
He laughs. “Sounds like you’ve thought this through.”
“We’re going to make pasta and marinara sauce from scratch,” I tell him as we step into the kitchen.
He eyes the ingredients with a degree of uncertainty. “I feel like this is too advanced. I’m like one step above making cereal.”
I laugh. “It’s easier than you think.”
“Says the chef.”
“You have got to stop calling me that,” I say, but I’m smiling.
I head to the drawer where I keep my aprons as well as pot holders and oven mitts. I pull out the two aprons I own. I have more in storage at Levi and Dahlia’s house, but I forced myself to only bring two because I knew space would be minimal.
“You should put this on,” I say, throwing him one apron while I put on the other. Mine is a pale blue with jasmine flowers embroidered on the bottom and my name across the chest. It was a graduation gift from Levi’s brother Adrian and his wife, Juliette. The one I gave Shepherd is black with white polka dots, something I bought on a whim last year because I thought it was cute.
“I am not wearing this,” he says with a laugh. “It has polka dots.”
I smirk. “Is your manhood threatened by a few little dots?”
“Goad me all you want. I’m not wearing it.” He drops it onto the countertop.
“Come on, it’s only you and me here.”
