Chapter 1
Chapter one
Prodigy vs. Protégé
Jasmine Chamberlain
My life begins today. Destiny unfolds before me like one of the blank notebooks in my backpack.
Every step I take is new, even though I walked this tree-lined path during my orientation, and again last week when I was mapping out the location of my courses, clubs, and practices.
The difference between those moments and today is the feeling blooming in my chest. An anxious fluttering that’s spreading into my limbs and making my hands tremble.
A smile spreads across my face despite the butterflies wreaking havoc inside me.
This is what I’ve been waiting for. Every match against my brother-in-law’s brother Grayson, the pages of notes I took on strategy, all the chess-related movies and shows I binge-watched.
All of it led me here, to the steps of the Bernard Hattington Building, where the chess club is held in room 107.
While I’ve lived on campus with my roommates for over a week now, this is the first college activity I’m partaking in.
Next week, classes begin. Maybe I’ll feel different when my semester officially starts, but today this moment feels like the beginning of my life as a collegiate woman.
As soon as I walk through those doors, I will no longer be a high schooler.
My past hurts will be left behind, and I can bring honor to my family by chasing after my future with all that I have.
I stare up at the red brick building. The austerity of the campus has been humbling, to say the least. In time, I’m sure I’ll get used to it, but right now the towering century-old buildings are intimidating.
After checking the map on my phone to make sure I’m in the right place, I square my shoulders, lift my chin, and walk up the stairs.
Once inside, I suppress a shiver at the sudden drop in temperature.
I’m dressed for the heat in my white Thrashers Cheerleading tank top and navy exercise shorts, but thankfully, I thought to throw a hoodie in my bag before I left my dorm.
Actually, my roommate Saylor reminded me, and I had to dig it out of one of the still-packed boxes in my room, but still.
I have it now. So I won’t freeze to death.
I scan the plates on each door for room 107.
As I spot the correct door, up ahead, the men’s bathroom door opens, and out comes Shepherd Kingsley, star quarterback of the Georgia Thrashers.
My heart stutters at the sight of him. He’s absurdly attractive with his tall, athletic build and gorgeous blond hair.
Not to mention his baby blue eyes. The kind you want to set sail in without a map or a compass to guide you.
All of that combined would be enticing if it weren’t for the fact that I was sick and tired of hearing his name every five seconds.
During orientation, his face was plastered on posters, TV screens, and stickers, like we should be honored to share the campus with him.
Whenever my brother-in-law Levi would turn on ESPN, there Shepherd would be.
It didn’t matter that the season hadn’t begun yet, he was still the hottest topic of conversation.
On my tour of the campus, the guide passed by the football team’s practice facility and spent twenty minutes talking about the team; over half of that was spent gushing over Shepherd’s brilliance and athleticism.
Now he was here, which I suspected but hoped wouldn’t be the case when I signed up.
We met at a party one of my family member’s–who is also Shepherd’s coach–threw last year.
Shepherd had watched me play my brother-in-law’s brother Grayson and lose, only for Shepherd to play him next and win as if it were nothing.
It was only a little annoying at the time, but now, after hearing about him for months, all my frustrations have piled up.
“Hey, Jasmine, right?” Shepherd asks with a smile when he notices me heading for the classroom where the club is held. “We met at Coach Bash’s house.”
“That’s me,” I say with a half-hearted smile. I know I shouldn’t be rude to him. It’s not his fault he’s so great that everyone won’t stop gushing about him.
“You’re coming to chess club?” he asks as he opens the door to the classroom. His warm smile is disconcerting.
“Yeah, I am.” I sound as stilted as I feel. My fresh-start high is wearing off in the face of Thrasher royalty.
“Cool, I think it will be fun to play against each other.”
I head past him without acknowledging his words.
Students are seated at tables with chessboards throughout the room.
Some are engaged in games, their gazes intense and movements precise.
One pair makes moves faster than I could dream of, hitting the timer in between each round so quickly their movements are a blur.
Professor Kelton—whom I met at the club fair last week—looks up from observing a match and smiles at us. “Shepherd! I’m so glad you could make it,” he says.
“I’m happy to be here,” Shepherd replies with an easygoing grin.
I wait for acknowledgement. It comes, but not in the way I was hoping.
“Did you bring a friend?” Kelton asks as if we haven’t met before.
“No,” I say quickly—too quickly. Shepherd raises a brow at my protest. “My name’s Jasmine Chamberlain, Professor. I met you at the club fair.”
“Oh, yes, I recall now. I’m sorry, the excitement of Shepherd joining us for another semester made me lose my head,” Kelton chortles.
My polite smile dims. “No problem. I’m really excited to be here. I can’t wait to learn more about the game,” I say, trying not to cringe at how awkward I sound. I’m not shy, but this whole interaction has not gone the way I planned, and I don’t know how to recover.
“You came at the perfect time!” Professor Kelton cheers, boosting my mood a little. “Shepherd is a great teacher. Many of the other members can attest. I think it would be great for you to pair up with him for a few weeks. When he’s here, of course. He is a busy man leading his team to victory!”
Shepherd scratches the back of his neck as if the praise is awkward for him to hear, too, but I don’t buy it. There’s something in the way he holds himself that makes me think he enjoys being talked up.
“Oh—uh—” I stutter. Professor Kelton wears an expectant grin. “Okay, that would be good.”
The professor claps his hands together. “Excellent! A prodigy and his protégé. What a combination.”
I frown. How does he know I’m not a prodigy, too? I’m not, but I could be.
“Wanna take that table by the window?” Shepherd indicates an empty table set up with a chessboard.
Sunlight pours through the glass, the outline of a nearby tree shadowing the tabletop.
It’s a spot I would have naturally gravitated toward, which makes me upset that he chose it.
Irrational, but feelings usually are. At least, that’s what my sister, Dahlia, says, and she’s a therapist, so I think I can trust her words.
I shrug. “Sure.”
We walk over and take seats across from each other.
A Thrashers-themed chessboard with blue-and-white squares sits between us.
Shepherd sets up the board, arranging the blue pieces on his side while the white pieces go on my side.
I would have chosen blue if he’d asked. Don’t be a brat, I scold myself.
The color of the pieces doesn’t determine a win. You do.
“How about we forgo the timer for this first round?” Shepherd asks amicably.
“Sounds good,” I say with a tight smile.
Nothing is going how I wanted it to, but that’s okay.
I’ve been practicing and learning since I last saw him beat Grayson.
I simply have to win and prove to Professor Kelton that I’m great in my own right and don’t need his prodigy’s help.
And once I get my victory, I can call Grayson and tell him he didn’t waste his time on me.
We begin the game, and I train all my focus on the board.
I don’t look up once. Not that I could if I wanted to, since playing against Shepherd requires above-average focus.
He makes his moves faster than I can predict, much less plan my own.
I move my knight, then scan the board again. The blood drains from my face.
“Checkmate,” Shepherd declares.
I lift my gaze and catch him smirking.
“That was fun. I’m looking forward to playing against you this semester. Or should I say, beating you?” he jokes with a boyish grin, his annoyingly gorgeous blue eyes twinkling.
“I wouldn’t get used to this. It won’t be a normal occurrence,” I reply casually.
His grin widens into something playful and lined with mischief. “We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”