Chapter 15 Friendly Rivals
Chapter fifteen
Friendly Rivals
Shepherd Kingsley
I walk into chess club with a smile wider than the Mississippi on my face.
After the party on Saturday, Jasmine and I haven’t gotten to talk much.
Now that classes are in full swing and football season has kicked off, there is even less time to talk before and after class.
Someone always wants to talk to me about the games, and when they don’t, Jasmine has somewhere to be.
But today it will be just us. Professor Kelton already emailed saying today would be a free play meeting, so we’ll have the whole time to ourselves.
The whole world will slip away, the way it always does when we play against each other. And sure, I won’t get to stay the whole time because I have practice in a little while, but thirty minutes is better than nothing at all.
I saunter over to Jasmine. She looks up from setting up the board, and I can tell she’s holding in a smile, her pink lips pressed in a straight line.
“Ready to lose, Chamberlain?” I ask as I slide into the chair across from her.
“Not a chance, Captain.”
My heart jumps in my chest at the nickname. Logically I know I shouldn’t let myself feel this way. The more time we spend together, the more I want. And I’m not allowed to want her.
I watch her delicate hands place the white pieces on my side of the board. The board is Thrasher colors, blue and white, as are the pieces. Jasmine prefers to play with blue. So do I, when I play against anyone but her.
She finishes setting up the board, glancing up and catching me watching her.
Her cheekbones turn a pretty pink that matches her lips.
The urge to lean across the board and kiss her hits me like a lineman to my blind side.
She pulls her braid over her shoulder and toys with the curled end.
I imagine undoing it to see her wild curls fall free, then running my hands through them.
Drawing her close to me. Our breath intermingling.
I clear my throat.
“Ready to start?” I rasp.
She bites her lip and nods. I lift my hat to run a hand through my hair, then gesture for her to take the first move.
Jasmine moves her pawn directly in front of her king, and I can tell she’s been thinking about it with how fast she goes.
We don’t use the game clock to our left.
We typically don’t for our first game, though I doubt we’ll get to play more than one with our time constraint.
“How was practice yesterday?” I ask as I move my knight from the backline and toward the edge of the board.
Her eyes scan the board. She moves her queen through the space her pawn was on, then across the board directly in front of my knight. I smile as I note her improved strategy. She’s starting off strong.
“It was good,” she says as I contemplate my next move. “I fell out of a stunt, but Harry caught me, so it was all right.”
My head jerks up. “A stunt is where they throw you in the air, or am I mistaken?”
Jasmine laughs softly. I make my move, a little distracted by the idea of her tumbling toward the ground headfirst. That distraction is made worth it by the stomach-turning thought of another guy catching her in his arms.
“Yes, well, it’s more than just throwing, but they do that. We were trying something new, and I lost my balance.”
“And they say football is dangerous,” I mutter while she moves a pawn. “Cheerleading sounds way worse.”
“I’ve seen you get hit before, so I’d say we’re even.”
I smirk. “Yeah, but considering how rarely I get hit—you know, on account of how amazing I am—I think the scales are tipped.”
She shakes her head. “First of all, you’re ridiculously arrogant. Second of all, getting dropped is not that common.”
“Comforting,” I say wryly, coaxing a laugh out of her.
We settle into a comfortable silence as we continue to play. The two little lines have appeared between Jasmine’s brows, but due to concentration, not frustration. With each of her moves, I become more impressed.
“You’ve gotten better since the last time we played,” I say as I move my knight. “You’re still going to lose, but you’re putting up a fight.”
She shoots me a glare. “I’m not losing.”
“You are, but that’s okay. Maybe next week you can pull off a win.”
Jasmine frowns. “Next week? Don’t you mean next game?” She checks her smartwatch. “We’ve got time for at least one more.”
I scratch the back of my neck. “I’ve got practice at five thirty. I’ll have to leave in a few minutes.”
Jasmine doesn’t set down the piece in her hand. Disappointment flickers across her expression, causing warmth to fill my chest. Is it possible that she’s sad I have to go?
“On Saturday, you said the time worked for you.”
I shrug. “It sort of does. It lets me come and play for a little while. That’s good enough for me.”
Not really, but seeing her face fall made me feel like I had to say something. She sets her piece down, barely looking at the board. One more move and I’ll win, but it should have taken a few more turns.
“Don’t throw the game; we have a little while longer,” I say.
She shakes her head. “You’re not able to stay the whole time because of me. I overreacted, and now you’re only here for half the time.”
“You were right that day. I hadn’t thought of everyone else.
This is what the majority chose. It wasn’t your decision,” I reassure her, trying not to show how baffled I am that she cares.
I felt how she had buried some of her animosity, but I didn’t expect this.
I don’t think I can handle Jasmine Chamberlain caring about me in any shape, form, or fashion. I’ll be a goner.
She looks down at the board. “I guess you’re right.”
“Look on the bright side—you’ll get to play against me and get a loss out of the way before you go and beat one of the other members,” I joke, trying to get us back to our usual banter.
Where it’s safe. Friendly rivals. That’s what we should be.
Anything else, and the bench is my new home.
Coach could have been bluffing, but I don’t know that I have the guts to call him on it.
Especially when there is nothing concrete between me and Jasmine to bet on.
Jasmine looks up and scoffs. “I may have lost this time, but I won’t next week. I’ll beat you and everyone else in here.”
I chuckle at the tenacity in her voice. “Careful, Chamberlain, you might steal my ridiculously arrogant title.”
“Don’t worry, Captain, your crown isn’t in danger. No one could hold a candle to you.”
She smiles, and I grin back at her. “And don’t you forget it.” I slide my knight over and up. “Checkmate.”
“Where is your head today, Junior?” Coach yells as I walk off the field.
I clench my jaw. He’s called me Junior all practice. I’m close to putting my fist through a wall. So what that I’ve been a little distracted? That doesn’t mean I have to be reminded of my brother every five seconds.
“Sorry, Coach,” I grunt, and grab a water bottle from one of the managers. Second-string offense starts playing against first-string defense, while first-string offense takes a break. At least, it would be a break if Coach weren’t already in my ear.
“We’ve got no shot of winning if you play like that on Saturday,” he says. “What’s going on with you? MJ said she can tell you’re going through the motions, not here with us.”
I glance over his shoulder to find his wife watching us.
Whenever she visits practice, things are always more intense.
She knows her stuff and has insanely good observational skills.
She sees what no one else can. It’s helpful, but also makes for a long practice of pointing out flaws.
Today was the worst day for her to be here.
Though I keep trying to recenter and focus, my mind won’t stop straying to Jasmine.
I feel like an idiot. She’s just a woman.
But my brain doesn’t care. It keeps bringing up the sad smile she gave me when I got up to leave.
And the spark of jealousy I felt when she went and sat down in front of Barrett.
He’s a good player. She could learn from him. But I wanted her to learn from me.
“I’m sorry. I’ll do better,” I say, instead of answering his question. It’s not like I could anyway. He’d pick me up and throw me onto the bench. If he knew how much I wanted to kiss Jasmine, he might do worse than that.
“Make sure you do. This isn’t how the captain of a championship team acts.”
I dip my chin. “Yes, sir.”
I try to use my time on the sidelines to put my attention squarely on the task at hand.
But more thoughts start to plague my mind.
If I don’t get this right and lead the team to another championship, I’ll never live it down.
Everyone will say how I fell short of Jason, regardless if I win every other game for the rest of my life.
He had a perfect college record. I have to be the same.
No, better. Somehow I have to be better and surpass the Junior title everyone throws my way.
Unscrewing the water bottle, I dump it over my head. The cold splash shocks my system. I scrub my face and rake my hands through my wet hair a few times.
No mistakes. Perfection is the standard. Be better than the best.
I repeat the words over and over. Force Jasmine out of my mind. The name on the back of my jersey feels like it’s lined with lead as I walk back out onto the field. But I’ll handle the pressure. I have no choice.