Page 29 of Chess Not Checkers
“Can you blame me? I’m in shock,” he replies with a smirk.
“What?” I huff. “I can’t visit you?”
He leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms. My eyes trace from his bicep to his forearm before skipping back to his still-smirking face.
“Youcan, but why would you want to?”
Logically, I knew I would have to explain myself, but I was really hoping he would know as soon as he opened the door and just let me in without any preamble. Delusional, I’m aware.
I hold up the briefcase. “I’m here to beat you at chess.”
His smirk transforms into a real smile. A dimple appears, and I feel like I just landed a back tuck. “You can’t get enough of me, can you?”
I meet his gaze with a wry smile. “It would seem that way, but I hear things are rarely as they seem.”
He chuckles as he moves to open the door wide. “Just come inside, Chamberlain.”
I pause for a moment, suddenly overcome by the realization that stepping over this threshold is going to change things between us. Once crossed, I won’t be able to pretend like I don’t enjoy spending time with him. We both know I could play chess with anyone in the club. But now I’m making it undeniably clear that I want to play withhim.
Shepherd holds the door open. He doesn’t rush me, just watches me as I wrestle with this decision. Does he sense it too?
It occurs to me that his holding open the door is a vote for change too. He’s admitting not just to enjoying playing against me—something he’s already done in the past—but that he’s okay with me being in his space. The knowledge that he must want me here emboldens me. I step inside.
If you would have asked me to describe Shepherd’s dorm, I think the image I would have given would be close to this: Not much decoration, and most of it football related. There is one thing I didn’t expect, though, which is the scent. A candle flickerson the coffee table, spreading a sugary, sweet but pleasant aroma throughout the space.
A guy I recognize as another football player, though I’m not sure what position, looks up from his laptop. He’s sitting on the couch, legs sprawled out over the chaise lounge. ESPN is playing on the TV, making me wonder if they were hanging out when I showed up.
“Were you busy? I can go,” I say to Shepherd as he shuts the door behind us.
It’s probably for the best. If I leave fast enough, I can retract the statement I made by coming in.
“You’re not getting away that easy,” Shepherd says with a knowing look, then gestures to the guy on the couch. “That’s Owen, my roommate. I was just watching TV while he studied.”
Owen gives a quick wave, already collecting his things to leave.
“Oh, you don’t have to go, it’s okay,” I tell him.
“He’s not a very social person,” Shepherd says in a stage whisper.
Owen gives Shepherd a dry look. “I heard that.”
Shepherd smiles, the perfect picture of innocence. Owen finishes gathering his things and heads toward a door opposite the couch. He pauses in the doorway to his room and says, “Nice to meet you,” then disappears inside, closing the door behind him.
“Nice to meet you too!” I call out in return before turning to face my doom.
Shepherd opens his mouth to say something I will likely wish he didn’t. I hold up a hand to stop him. “Save it, Captain. I’m here to play chess, not talk.”
He grins. “Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter seventeen
Sweet
Shepherd Kingsley
Jasmine gently pushes the candle Willow purchased for me to the side. When Willow bought it, she said I’d thank her if a woman ever came over. I’m tempted to pull out my phone and text her right now, but considering who the woman is, that’s probably not the wisest thing to do. Neither was inviting Jasmine in. I’m asking to be benched, but how could I turn her down?
Jasmine begins to set up the chessboard on my coffee table as if it’s normal that she’s here in my dorm. Like she comes here all the time. I sit down across from her and try not to imagine a world where that’s a possibility. That train of thought is destined to take me to a station called Disappointment.
