Chapter 17 Sweet
Chapter seventeen
Sweet
Shepherd Kingsley
Jasmine gently pushes the candle Willow purchased for me to the side.
When Willow bought it, she said I’d thank her if a woman ever came over.
I’m tempted to pull out my phone and text her right now, but considering who the woman is, that’s probably not the wisest thing to do.
Neither was inviting Jasmine in. I’m asking to be benched, but how could I turn her down?
Jasmine begins to set up the chessboard on my coffee table as if it’s normal that she’s here in my dorm.
Like she comes here all the time. I sit down across from her and try not to imagine a world where that’s a possibility.
That train of thought is destined to take me to a station called Disappointment.
“Black or white?” Jasmine asks, holding a white pawn in her hand. It’s poised over her side of the board.
“Black,” I answer.
She sets the pawn down and continues placing pieces on the board. We’re both quiet as she does.
“How did you find my dorm?” I finally break the silence.
She glances up from the board, her expression unusually shy. “I asked one of the football players in my class.”
I try not to grimace. That’s…not good. Whoever gave the dorm number to her must have been a good friend, otherwise I’d be in Coach’s office getting yelled at right now. But still, it’s not a great look for the captain to be breaking a rule the Coach told me to enforce.
“You could have asked me,” I state.
She tucks a curl behind her ear. “I didn’t think of that.”
She’s lying. A smile tugs at the edges of my mouth.
“Tell me the truth, Chamberlain. Were you nervous to come over here?”
She rolls her eyes, but her face is turning pink. “Why would I be nervous?”
“I don’t know.” I lean back against the couch and cross my arms. “That’s what I’m curious about.”
“This candle smells really nice. Where did you get it?” Jasmine asks instead of addressing my statement.
“My sister-in-law gave it to me.”
“Oh, then I bet she got it from one of those really nice candle places. The ones where the candles cost, like, a hundred dollars—”
“Jasmine,” I cut her off.
She looks up from the board, her green eyes wide.
“We don’t do this.”
I’m about to elaborate when she speaks.
“Exactly. That’s why I’m nervous, I guess. I came here, and I don’t know what you’re thinking, and I barely know what I’m thinking,” she rambles, making me smile.
I’m thinking you’re adorable, I want to say. But that’s a level of risk I’m not sure I can take. Roundabout flirting by teasing her is one thing, but to be straightforward is asking for certain death by Bash’s hand.
“I think we’re rivals who can’t go too long without playing against each other, because everyone else is far too boring.” I say the safe answer, and I’m rewarded with a laugh.
“Is it wrong to feel that way, though?” She giggles again, and warmth fills my chest. “Because I do. Barrett was a great player, better than me to be sure, but he just sat there silent like a statue.”
I grin. “So what you’re saying is, you like the sound of my voice?”
She groans. “You ruin everything.”
“Says the woman who came to see me.”
Her lips press together to keep from smiling. “Are we going to play or are you going to keep making me regret all the life decisions that led me to this point?”
I laugh. “You go first.”
“Oh!” she exclaims, then reaches for her backpack that she wore in. “I forgot I brought this.”
She pulls out a plastic container and opens the lid. The scent of garlic and herbs makes my mouth water. Flaky pastries are stacked on top of each other, covered in seasoning and oozing with melted cheese.
“I made these savory puff pastries for one of my class projects. My roommates ate some, but I figured I could bring the rest here.”
“You cooked for me?” I reach for one, but she pushes my hand back.
“Baked,” she clarifies, her hand still on mine to keep it back. “These are baked, not cooked. And no, they were for a class project. I brought them as a snack.”
“For me,” I add.
Jasmine rolls her eyes. Her skin is warm and soft on mine. It’s making me want to abandon all caution and see what would happen if I tried to kiss her. Judging by the look on her face, nothing good. But my racing heart still wants to know for certain.
“I don’t think I want to share with you anymore.”
I quickly grab her wrist with the hand she was attempting to push back, then slide the pastries over to my side of the table with the other.
I take one out while still holding the wrist she’s actively trying to tug out of my grip.
She reaches across the table with her other hand, but I take a bite before she can snatch it away.
The buttery pastry melts in my mouth. I let out a groan. “I could eat a dozen of these.”
“You’re going to only get one if you don’t let me go.”
I laugh and release her wrist. She glares at me. I flash a big smile.
“Thanks for baking these for me.”
She shakes her head. “I would never bake something for you.”
“Sounds like another challenge. I bet by the end of the semester you’ll bake something just for me.”
I take another bite of the delicious, cheesy pastry.
“Bet all you want. It’s not going to happen.”
She makes her first move of the game, bringing me back to why she’s here in the first place. If she wanted to sit and talk while I ate this entire box of baked goods, I wouldn’t mind at all. But a game of chess makes for an even better time.
I scan the board, noting how she moved her knight. I move my pawn in response before finishing off the pastry in one final bite.
“This is probably the best bite of food I’ve ever had,” I tell her while she studies the board.
“You don’t have to lie. Flattery isn’t going to help you win the game.”
I chuckle. “Do you think I need flattery to win?”
She shoots me a scowl before making one of her pawns move.
“I’m serious, though. These are fantastic. I’m going to eat the rest if you don’t have some.”
I move my bishop through the space my pawn was previously, then reach for another pastry. Her lips twist like she’s trying to keep from smiling.
“You’re not just messing with me?”
I meet her eyes so she can see I’m sincere. They’re extra green today, or maybe it’s just our proximity. Either way, they’re beautiful. She’s beautiful.
“I wouldn’t tease you about something like this. If this is how you bake,” I emphasize the word, making her smile, “then I’m sure your cooking is even better, and you’re going to make a great chef.”
She looks down at the board, a blush tinting her cheeks. “Thanks. That’s…sweet of you.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I can be sweet.”
She laughs. “I don’t think I’d use that word to describe you.”
“Then what word would you use?”