Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Repulsive
Jasmine Chamberlain
I unlock and open the door to my apartment, then bend down to pick up the pan of tiramisu I made in pastry class yesterday. Once the dessert is safe in my arms, I walk over the threshold, then kick the door shut.
“I brought home dessert!” I yell out as I walk into the kitchen—and promptly scream.
There’s a man in our kitchen with mussed black hair, tipping a water bottle to his mouth with a lean, muscular arm.
Or, it was, before I let out a screech akin to a car alarm.
Now, he’s holding the water by his side while eying me like I’m the intruder.
Saylor barrels into the room, blonde ponytail whipping about behind her.
Levi would be disappointed in my self-defense skills, because I stand frozen the entire time.
“He’s not a murderer!” Saylor clarifies in a loud voice.
The not-murderer looks amused at her choice of words.
“That’s good,” I breathe out. “Who is he?”
“Graham Clarke,” he answers, sticking his hand out. There’s a streak of royal blue paint across the back of his hand leading up to his veined forearm. “Nice to meet you.”
I slowly set down the tiramisu—thankful I didn’t drop it in the calamity—and shake his hand.
“You’re the artist friend Saylor was telling us about,” I say, and Saylor nods.
“Sorry for not warning you he was here. I needed help moving a bookshelf. I decided last night while I was studying that it would look better on the opposite wall of my room, but I didn’t want to take all the books off.
Graham was my muscle.” Saylor smiles brightly at Graham.
His expression is affectionate, but I can’t tell if it’s romantic or just friendly.
“Always happy to help.” He gives her a soft smile. “Do you need anything else? If not, I’m going to head back to my place. I’ve got a project due next week for my mixed-media class.”
“I’m all good. Thanks, Teddy Graham.” She throws her arms around his neck in an exuberant hug, tugging his tall frame down to her level.
He hugs her back. I try to analyze how they feel about each other but fail.
I wish one of the Carters were here. They’re all hyperobservant and would probably figure this out easily.
“Call me if you need anything else.”
He kisses the top of her head, and I quickly look down at the counter to hide my shocked expression. She called him Teddy Graham? And he kissed her?
“I will. See you next week,” Saylor chirps.
They break apart, and Graham tips his head at me before leaving.
“I’m sorry about that,” Saylor repeats her earlier sentiment once Graham leaves. “I’m so used to him being around that I forget not everyone knows him.” She lets out a tinkling laugh. “Did I hear you say you have dessert?”
I debate asking her about Graham but decide against it. She clearly doesn’t see him as a husband candidate, or else she would have said so. And I’m going to be late for chess club if I don’t get out the door soon.
“No worries about Graham. Now I’ll know him when I see him.” I pull the tinfoil off the top of the aluminum pan. “And yes, we made tiramisu yesterday in pastry class, but it had to soak overnight. So I grabbed it on my way back today.”
“Oooo, I love tiramisu. Your school work is way more fun than mine. I don’t have anything to share except how many bones are in the human body. 206, by the way.”
I laugh. “Help yourself, and let the other girls know to do the same if they come home before me. I have to head to chess club.”
“Have fun! I’ll be here, memorizing flashcards and eating this whole pan,” she jokes.
I rush to my room and throw a few of the books in my backpack onto my bed to lighten the load.
Then I grab a sweatshirt hanging from my chair in case it’s cold and head back out the door.
As I’m on my way out, I smile at Saylor’s hunched-over figure.
She’s balancing a bowl of tiramisu in her lap while her notes and flashcards surround her on the floor.
Hopefully the dessert helps make her study session a little sweeter.
My walk to the Bernard Hattington Building is quick, thanks to my half jogging. While I don’t want to spend more time with Shepherd, I do want plenty of time for chess. Last week made it abundantly clear that I need a lot more practice. And loath as I am to admit it, Shepherd has a lot to teach me.
As I’m walking up the steps, my phone buzzes. It’s a message from Levi’s brother Grayson.
Grayson: How’s college life treating you? Is my chess prodigy taking over the world yet?
I grimace at his use of the word prodigy.
It was a running joke in the family that he was trying to make a prodigy out of me when he started showing me the game.
Now, the word stings like alcohol on a cut.
He spent all those hours teaching me, only for me to lose all three games I played last week. I need to do better to make him proud.
Jasmine: College is great! And chess club is going well, too. I’m learning a lot about the game!
Hopefully, my nonspecific answer doesn’t sound suspicious. I don’t need a family intervention. And that’s exactly what would happen if anyone thought something was wrong.
I walk up the rest of the stairs and get inside before my phone buzzes again.
Grayson: That’s great. I’m a phone call away if you ever need anything, even if you just need a reminder of what it’s like to lose.
His message ends with a laughing emoji. My chest aches. He thinks I’m doing so well that I’d need to play him to have a chance of losing. In reality, I’m unlikely to win a single game for a while.
I send a quick thank you, then head into the club room. Shepherd is already sitting at the table by the window. When he spots me, his expression takes on a level of mischief I’m not prepared to encounter. I heave a sigh, then trudge over to him.
“You look chipper,” Shepherd comments as I drop my backpack on the ground next to my chair.
“This is what my face looks like when I have to see you,” I deadpan, and take my seat across from him. He’s already set the board up, this time with the blue pieces on my side.
“Ah, yes, frustration disguising barely contained attraction.”
I gape at him, my face heating. “I am not attracted to you.”
He grins and leans forward. “Are you sure about that?”
I let my eyes wander over him. His blond hair is messier than usual today, and his blue eyes are shining in the light of the sun streaming through the window. My stomach flips when his grin transforms into a smirk.
“Admit it, Chamberlain, you find me attractive.”
Okay, sue me. The man is gorgeous. But I’m not about to let him know that.
I bite my lip for show, and his eyes follow the movement. I lean forward and lower my voice. “I guess it’s time I confess. I find you…” I trail off, and watch with glee as he hangs on my every word. “Utterly repulsive.”
His mouth drops, and he lets out a shocked laugh. “You are a cruel woman.”
I smile. “Why, thank you. Now, are we playing chess, or do I have to request a new partner?”
He rakes a hand through his hair with a smile. “Let’s play.”