Chapter 2
Chapter two
Villain Origin Story
Shepherd Kingsley
Being a prodigy is not as fun as it sounds.
In theory, I should be living the high life.
My cheeks should constantly be aching from smiling so much.
Sometimes that’s the case. But most of the time, the pressure to perform feels like hands wrapped around my neck in a vise grip, squeezing tighter and tighter.
I never drop my smile, though. How could I?
If I complained or showed discomfort, my honesty would be met with ire.
Rightfully so. My life is picture perfect.
Star quarterback, scouts at every game, friends galore, college paid in full, plus millions in the bank. I’d punch me if I heard me complaining.
And yet, the pressure doesn’t ease up. It just worsens and worsens.
Taking a full breath feels like a luxury at this point.
Which is why, sitting across from Jasmine Chamberlain, I find myself grinning like a fool.
Because I can breathe. The weight on my chest is gone.
It’s just me and this gorgeous woman verbally sparring while playing my favorite game outside of football.
“Did you know you get two little lines between your eyebrows when you’re angry?” I ask as I move one of my pawns.
Her scowl deepens while my smile grows. If there was an award for the cutest scowl, Jasmine would win it. She would also hate that she did, and her adorable scowl would make an appearance as she accepted the trophy.
“Do you ever think before you speak, or is it your general policy to wing it?” she asks in return.
“Oh, I thought about that question for a while. You’ve scowled a lot this game.”
Her lips thin. It’s all I can do to hold in a laugh. It probably means there’s something wrong with me that I enjoy her disdain for my general personhood, but every insult from her is like drinking from a water hose after a long day of playing backyard football in the summer: utterly refreshing.
“So it’s self-preservation skills you lack. Got it.”
I chuckle in response and wait to reply until she makes her move.
She surprises me when she castles, switching her rook with her king.
Her improvements are rapid. She picks up on patterns very well, but it’s clear she hasn’t put as many hours into the game as me or some of the other more experienced players here.
“Nice move,” I compliment her. The two little lines smooth out for a moment, and I’m not sure yet if I prefer being the one to cause the lines or the one to make them disappear. “Not bad for a protégé,” I add, because she’s right—I lack self-preservation skills.
Her captivating green eyes flash with anger. Man, she’s pretty. The kind of beautiful that would make you say “thank you” if she swung at you because at least she touched you.
“Do they have to order a special helmet to fit your giant head?” she throws back.
I grin and look at the board to make my next move. I’m going to win again, probably in two more moves. That’s going to make this situation worse, so I shouldn’t add fuel to the fire. Unfortunately for Jasmine, I’ve always been fond of watching flames dance.
“You don’t have to lash out. It’s okay to admit you have things to learn,” I say as I move my queen.
Her mouth drops open in indignation. “You know, I knew you’d be pretentious from being in the limelight too much, but I didn’t think you’d be this obnoxious.”
“Ouch.” I place a hand on my chest. “Lighten up, Chamberlain. I’m helping you out of the kindness of my heart here.”
She scrunches up her nose. “I’m not convinced you have a heart.”
“Others would disagree. Most people I meet like me, you know,” I say with my most winsome smile.
“And most people put A.1. sauce on steak. Most people are wrong.”
I snort. Her lips twitch as if she wants to laugh, but she’s holding onto her disdain like an umbrella in a rainstorm.
“I’m afraid our time for today is up,” Professor Kelton announces from the front of the room. Students start to pack up the boards and their bags. “I will see you next week. I hope your first classes of the semester go well.”
Everyone murmurs a collective thank you.
I glance back at Jasmine. “Want me to tell you how the game would have ended?”
Her responding look is thunderous. “That’s not necessary,” she grits out.
Her eyes flick down to the board, though, and I could be wrong, but it seems like she does want to know.
I point to her rook. “If you moved this like I suspect you were going to…” I move it. “Then I would have moved my bishop and…” I move my piece. “Checkmate.”
She scans the board, then lets out an adorable little huff.
“You’re a great chess player, Jasmine,” I say, and she looks surprised by my words. “With time, you’ll be even better.”
She nods, wearing a thoughtful expression.
“Until then, do you have a favorite accent?”
Her brow furrows. “A favorite accent? Why?”
“I was thinking you might get tired of hearing me say ‘checkmate’ so often. Figured I could mix it up with an accent so it doesn’t get old.”
“You are terrible.” She shakes her head and stands up. “Congratulations, you ruined my first official college experience.”
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.