Chapter 18 At Ease
Chapter eighteen
At Ease
Jasmine Chamberlain
I move my rook.
“If you’re trying to trap me, it’s not going to work,” I say.
Shepherd moves his free bishop over to my side of the board, taking the pawn diagonal from where I just placed my rook. “I’d say it’s going pretty well so far.”
“I meant in our conversation.”
“So did I.”
I look up from the board. His blue eyes are crinkled at the edges. He’s enjoying this. I am too, I think. Which feels wrong on several levels, but that isn’t stopping my stomach from fluttering.
“You’ve told me what you think of me on several occasions,” Shepherd comments as I move my rook safely out of harm’s way. “What’s stopping you now?”
I smirk. I might win this game. “It feels too cruel to insult you in your own home.”
“You have my permission,” Shepherd says wryly before moving his rook from the backline.
“If I’ve told you what I think of you, then why do you want me to tell you now?”
He leans back against his couch, his blue eyes locked on me. “The same reason you won’t tell me.”
I raise a brow. “Which is?”
He huffs a short laugh, like he can’t believe me. “Because your opinion of me has changed.”
I sit there, not saying anything. Has it?
I guess I wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t, but it’s difficult to admit.
Aside from him changing the chess club schedule—which he immediately tried to fix—Shepherd is a good guy.
Annoying at times, but still a good guy.
The entire world seems to agree, touting his excellence all over social media and news headlines.
Holding back my answer, I advance toward his king with my knight now that my rook is safe.
Shepherd rakes a hand through his hair. “Or maybe it hasn’t, and I look like an idiot right now,” he says.
“You do.” He gapes. “But not because my opinion hasn’t changed. It’s just sort of your resting state.”
He throws his head back and laughs. I can’t help but join in.
“You are something else, Chamberlain,” he breathes out.
“I’d say the same about you, Captain.”
He swipes a hand over his smile and down his jaw. “I’ll settle for that description, so long as you don’t hate me.”
I shake my head. “I never hated you.”
“Keep that in mind,” he says with a smirk, then moves his rook over to where he set his bishop up earlier. “Checkmate.”
I cover my face and groan. “I take it all back,” I say in a muffled voice. “You’re loathsome and intolerable, and I despise you.”
He chuckles. “No, you don’t. Wanna know how I know?”
I peek at him between my fingers.
“Because you baked for me,” he says smugly.
I grab one of the chess pieces and throw it at him. It bounces weakly off his shoulder while he shakes with laughter.
“Let’s play again before I decide to quit chess forever,” I huff.
He smiles and begins to reset the board. “You’re getting better. You can’t expect to start winning overnight.” His smile morphs into something impish. “Especially against a prodigy.”
I give him an unamused look. “You have no idea how annoying it was for him to call you that.”
“I’ve got a little idea, based on your resulting scowl.”
I reach for a pastry, because there are only two left, and I have a feeling he’s going to want them. “You do realize how annoying in general it is to hear people talk about you all the time, right?”
I take a bite of the pastry. It’s good, but it could have used a little more salt to make it really pop. I glance over at Shepherd’s kitchen. It might be worth sprinkling a little on top. I doubt he has finishing salt, but even some plain table salt could do the trick.
His mouth hitches up on one side in a wry smile. He takes the first move. “Almost as annoying as it is to be under a microscope twenty-four seven, I assume.”
I tilt my head to this side. “Is that what it feels like?”
I use my free hand to make my move.
He shrugs. “A little bit, yeah. I love football, and I know I’m blessed to be in this position, but the spotlight isn’t as golden as it seems.”
He reaches for the last pastry.
“Wait!” I exclaim. He pauses, eyebrows raised. “Do you have salt?”
“Uh, yeah, in the cabinet above the stove. Why?”
“These will be better with salt,” I reply as I stand.
“Did you not hear me when I said I’d eat a dozen?”
I shoot him a smile as I walk into the kitchen. “It’ll be even better, trust me.”
“If they get any better, you’ll have to classify them as a drug,” he says, making me laugh.
I open the cabinet he directed me to. It’s…abyssmal.
“This is your seasoning cabinet?” I ask, hoping I’m wrong and he meant a different one.
There’s salt, pepper, bagel seasoning, and garlic powder. That’s it. No onion powder, or even an Italian seasoning blend.
“Not all of us are chefs.” His voice sounds slightly defensive. “We eat in the cafe mostly except for some meals we prep at the beginning of the week.”
I grab the salt and go to his fridge, then open it.
“Hey, what are you doing?”
My mouth drops at the sad sight. An entire shelf is dedicated to protein drinks of various flavors.
The next shelf has a series of plastic storage containers that look to be all the same meal, and the bottom shelf is entirely empty save for a half-drunk gallon of chocolate milk.
In the door there are a few electrolyte drinks, ketchup, and teriyaki sauce.
“This is the most depressing fridge I’ve ever seen,” I say as I close the door.
“That’s a bit dramatic. We don’t keep much in there, but it’s still good stuff.”
“So if I said I was hungry and wanted to heat up one of those meals, you’d…?”
He cringes. “Ask if you wanted takeout.”
I laugh as I sit back down across from him. “You may be a football star and a chess prodigy, but I’ve got you beat when it comes to food.”
I sprinkle the salt on each of the remaining pastries. He picks his up and takes a bite, his eyes closing as he chews. I bite my lip. It shouldn’t be attractive that he likes my food, but it is.
“Yes, you do. You can take the crown, or chef hat. Whatever you want, so long as I get more of these.”
I laugh. “I told you—I’m not baking for you.”
“We’ll see about that,” he says, smiling as he takes another bite. Once he finishes chewing, he adds, “I’m glad you came over.”
I look down at the board, pretending to be thinking of my next move when, in reality, I’m thinking of him. “Me too. It’s kind of nice to play alone. While I don’t get what it’s like to be you, it was weird feeling like people were watching us play in chess club.”
He nods. “Yeah, that’s how I feel all the time.” I scrunch my nose up at the thought. “Well, except for right now.”
My heart warms at his words. Out of words, I simply make my next move. All the while, I’m wondering how I became a person that Shepherd Kingsley feels at ease around.