Page 4 of Chess Not Checkers
I smile at the idea of her thinking of today as something momentous. “You know you had fun. And besides, this will be a great memory to talk about one day. You can tell your grandkids about me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, what a fun story to tell. Come here, kids, let me regale you with a tale of how I lost in chess to an insufferable egomaniac.”
“Sounds like a fantastic villain origin story,” I reply with a grin.
She pulls her backpack off the back of her chair and throws it over one shoulder. “The only villain here is you.”
I can tell she’s about to leave, so I quickly stand and hold out my hand for her to shake. “Villain or not, I had a great time.”
She eyes my hand like it’s infected with the bubonic plague. “What do you expect me to do with that?”
I laugh. “I was thinking shake it, but if you want to hold my hand, I wouldn’t blame you, nor would I be opposed.” I wink.
She scoffs and slaps my hand away. I resist the urge to thank her.
“Let’s be clear about one thing: I will never want that.” Her gaze is fiery and lights something dangerous in my chest.
“Sounds like a challenge.”
“It’s a warning. And I’d heed it if I were you.”
She turns on her heel and storms off before I can reply.
I should probably listen to her, but the high I’m feeling from our interaction is too good to give up so easily. So as long as she keeps coming back, I’m going to keep playing with fire. And if I get burned, something tells me it’ll be worth it.
Chapter three
The Second Row
Jasmine Chamberlain
“New year, new me,” I say into my vanity mirror as I secure a hair tie around my curls.
My first college experience last week might not have gone as planned, but today is a new day. It’s a fresh start and opportunity for me to prove to myself and my family that I can accomplish something worthy of their sacrifices.
Once my hair is up, I rise from my vanity and immediately trip over a pile of shoes I forgot I put there when I was choosing my outfit last night.
I cringe at the sight of my room. Boxes have exploded like mini volcanoes, with clothes hanging over the edge and spilling out onto the floor like lava. My bed has a pile of potential outfit options on it. I slept next to the mountain of fabric last night because I got too tired to put everything away.
“New year, work-in-progress me?” I amend my earlier statement as I bend down and grab my white sneakers.
After much inner debate and consulting my roommates for their opinions, I settled on a navy-blue matching set with flared leggings as the bottoms and a fitted camisole for the top. I’ve topped the look off with a few gold necklaces layered against my collarbone and some matching bracelets on my wrist, along with my smartwatch.
I’m balancing on one foot, slipping on my right shoe, when my watch starts to buzz. I drop my foot and glance at the screen to see my sister’s name. I press the green answer button.
“Good morning!” Dahlia sings before I can even say hello. “It’s your first day! How does it feel to be a freshman in college?”
I look around my messy room. “Not as different as I thought it would be.”
Dahlia laughs. “That’s usually how things go. What are you wearing? Can you video chat?”
I get my shoe on, then scan the room for my phone. It’s around here somewhere…
“Let me find my phone, then yes.”
I hear my brother-in-law, Levi, chuckle. “How do you lose your phone so often?” he asks. Judging by the art on the walls behind them, they must be in Dahlia’s office at work. Levi is a homicide detective, and Dahlia is the unit’s therapist.
“It’s a talent, an art form, really,” I say into my watch as I pull aside my mountain of clothes and tangled-up blankets.
