Page 22 of Chess Not Checkers
He shrugs. “It may still be the wrong day or time for you in the end, so I don’t know how much help it will end up being.”
“Still, it’s nice of you to try to fix it. What will you do if it ends up being during one of your practice times?” I ask.
Shepherd rakes a hand through his hair. He’s not wearing a hat today, so the mussed blond locks are on full display. “Not go to the meetings, I guess,” he says with a sad smile. “But I hope it doesn’t come to that. I love chess, and I’d miss playing against you.”
I blink in surprise. “You would?”
He chuckles like my disbelief is amusing to him.
“All right, class!” Dr. Poulter calls from the front of the room. “Enough chitchat. We’ve got a lot to cover today, and we need to hit the ground running.”
I reluctantly turn away from Shepherd to face the front. For the rest of class, I try not to think about my chess rival or how I might miss him too if he has to quit.
Chapter thirteen
Captain
Shepherd Kingsley
“Man, that final touchdown pass was crazy!” Pete shakes my shoulders as we walk through the quad.
We just won our second game of the season, our first home game and first game against a team that was actual competition. The win showed Coach that all our practice paid off. It also showed everyone that I can handle the ever-mounting pressure of maintaining the win streak. The crowd was buzzing with excitement, and it bled over into all of us for the whole game. My heart is still pounding even after the press interviews and meeting up with the guys outside the practice facility.
Now, we’re headed to an after-party hosted at one of the fraternity houses. I don’t go to every single one, but I didn’t want to miss the first of the season.
I laugh. “You said that already.”
“He wants the girls to hear him,” Zion says with a smirk. “It’s the only touchdown he scored tonight, so he’s got to make the most of it.”
Pete glares at Zion. They’re both wide receivers and tend to get competitive about who catches the most passes or scores the most.
“The best touchdown of the night was when Jack picked up that fumble and ran it all the way,” I say to change the subject, looking over my shoulder at Jack. “Never seen you move that fast, big man.”
The defensive lineman’s eyes widen. “I didn’t think I’d make it,” he admits.
“He was on oxygen until he went on the field again,” Pete says, eliciting laughter out of our whole group.
As we get closer to fraternity row, the noise level increases. Soon enough, we’re surrounded by people shouting congratulations to us while music pumps through speakers. The air smells like liquor, or maybe that’s the breath of all the people coming up to us. After I take a few selfies with some less-than-sober peers, I push through the throng to get inside the party I came for.
The smell of alcohol and sweat is nauseating, but I’m used to it by now. I’ve been to plenty of these parties. They can be fun, but they’re not exactly a way to escape the pressure of my position. Something crazy always happens, and as team captain, it’s partly my responsibility to make sure none of my guys are in the mix. The last thing I need is to be seen in a compromising position. Then I’d be compared to my brother in a worse light than I already am.
Jason spent the early years of his career partying and drinking. There was rarely a week where he wasn’t in the tabloids. After a while, he straightened up and set his sights on being a role model and family man. Since then, the press have mostly laid off him, but they’re still eager to drag the Kingsley name through the mud. Which is why I have to be careful. I don’t want anything to do with those headlines.
“Kingsley! You made it!” Carson shouts directly into my ear while pulling me in for a back-slapping hug.
“You know I wouldn’t miss an Alpha Phi after-party,” I say with a grin.
“See, you say that, but I seem to remember you skipping a few last season.” He points at me with a blue plastic cup. His black hair falls into his eyes and he pushes it back with his free hand. There are flecks of glitter on his forehead, likely from one of the many sparkly women I saw on my way in.
“I’m surprised you remember anything at all from last year,” I joke.
He barks a laugh. “I’ve got a mind like a steel trap.” The liquid in his cup sloshes as he taps it against his temple.
“I’m sure you do,” I say as I scan the packed living room.
Carson keeps talking—something about the game—but I stop listening when I spot a certain curly-haired brunette laughing with a few other cheerleaders in matching uniforms. Though it’s common for cheerleaders to come to these parties, I didn’t expect Jasmine to be here. Mostly because Coach would hate the idea of her surrounded by a bunch of drunk idiots.
Jasmine steps out of her group and starts to head in my direction, though she doesn’t see me yet. Her gaze flits from person to person as she smiles and waves. I don’t doubt that she’ll grow in popularity quickly if she wants to. Maybe even if she doesn’t want to. She’s beautiful and smart and witty, plus a cheerleader with connections to the head coach. Hopefully she knows to be cautious. A lot of people will want to befriend her for that connection alone. Especially guys.
