Chapter - Alex
ALEX
The corner of my mouth twitches into a half smile.
I lift my eyes from the board for a moment and glance toward the audience.
Bay is sitting there, staring at me, his thumbs pressed together. He sends me a reassuring smile. I wiggle my brows lightly just for him.
Then I gently slide my bishop to c4. I know it will provoke him into pushing his e-pawn, just like everyone who tries to hold the center by force.
The whole plan forms in my head: if he plays e5, I’ll retreat my knight to f5, and then his queen and bishop will start blocking each other.
One wrong move and the d-file will open like a wound.
Tobias does push his pawn to e5. For a second he looks confident, but then he adjusts his glasses as they slip down his nose. I see his fingers tremble. He lets out a short breath, doubt already catching up with him… Too late.
I shift my knight to f5. Tobias frowns. He knows something’s off, but he can’t yet see what.
A minute passes. He squirms in his chair and spins his fingers in nervous little circles. Finally, he decides and plays h6, trying to chase me off. How predictable. He has no idea he just weakened his kingside.
Thank you, Tobias.
I answer with g4. A dangerous move, but perfectly calculated. Tobias looks at me, then at the board. His lips move silently, as if he’s trying to compute something. Sweat trickles down his temple, his glasses slide again.
"You sure about that?" he mutters, more to himself than to me.
I don’t respond. I just watch his eyes dart over the pieces. After a moment he moves his queen to e7, defensive, like he’s trying to cover up his mistakes.
And that’s exactly where I wanted you, I whisper to myself.
I make the next move, knight from f5 to d6. Check. Tobias freezes, his hand pausing mid air. The king has nowhere safe to go. He tries to find a way out, but every move exposes something else.
I watch his face harden, his clenched jaw start to tremble. He takes a deep breath, but he already knows.
"Check," I say calmly.
Silence. Then another clock clicks at a nearby table. Tobias slowly raises his hand and tips over his king.
I let out a breath and lean back in my chair. Yes. My pulse is still pounding in my temples, but the smile comes on its own. I watch the arbiter record the result.
For a second I sit completely still. Quiet. Only the ticking of nearby clocks fills the air.
Then, from the row just behind the tables, I hear a quick, muffled cheer.
Bay.
He can’t help himself. He knows he’s not supposed to, but he jumps up, claps once, maybe twice, then quickly drops his hands and looks around like he’s apologizing to the whole world. But his face, bright, beaming, says everything.
He’s happy for me. Proud of me.
The arbiter, an older beta man with graying hair, walks up to the table and notes something on his sheet. He glances up at me.
"One zero for Alex Strada, Jackson High," he announces loudly enough for everyone to hear.
Tobias offers me his hand. Hesitant, but he does it. His palm is sweaty and cold. I give it a quick shake and nod.
"Good game," I say quietly, keeping it sportsmanlike.
He doesn’t answer. Just adjusts his glasses and walks off between the tables where his coach is waiting.
The arbiter writes the result on the big scoreboard near the podium. I see a gold strip appear next to my name with the word Champion.
Here we go.
The audience applauds, someone cheers, Bay, my dad, Bay’s dad, and the tournament director is already stepping forward with a microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the new state Under-18 champion, Alex Strada from Jackson High!"
The applause echoes against the gym walls. I recognize a few teachers from my school, all math teachers, standing and clapping, someone whistles excitedly.
Bay is standing too, his hands raised, waving enthusiastically. His eyes shine with pride, maybe relief, maybe something more. He’s smiling so wide he looks like he might run straight to me, but he stops himself, fists the air, and keeps clapping.
When the ceremony ends, the arbiter shakes my hand and hands me the medal. Then Bay finally moves. He pushes through the crowd and stops right in front of me. I can see he wants to hug me, he’s practically vibrating… but he only extends his hand. For a second, a brief flicker, our eyes meet.
"I knew you’d win this," he says softly, almost a whisper. "You’re amazing, the best, the smartest." His voice is intense, full of force, of conviction.
I can’t say anything, emotion swelling in my chest. I want to tell him the same, how incredible he is, but then my dad and Bay’s dad, Lake, rush over to me, and the moment slips away. So I just smile back at him.
It wasn’t just a tournament. Not for me. Not when he was there, watching me like everything I did was some kind of miracle. I wish I could tell him what a miracle he is for me. But I can’t. I’m scared.
So damn scared.
I can’t lose him. Ever.
◆◆◆
The second year of high school starts for both me and Bay, with Bay playing with the band at the opening ceremony and me cheering for him louder than anyone else, since I’m basically his biggest fan.
This year he and I have almost all our core classes together, Bay sits right next to me in Algebra 2.
Our status is still a mystery to everyone at school, but nobody really asks anymore, they’ve just let it go.
When we walk together through the hallways, with our ridiculous height difference, people treat us like some kind of conjoined twins, almost inseparable, and only during electives are we apart, but Bay always makes sure to stand outside my classroom after the bell rings and wait for me.
I’ve pretty much moved into their house by now.
Every day his parents drive me up to the Nolan estate where I have a late lunch with them, and afterward Bay and I go to his room to do homework and work on his music channel.
Bay plays and sings, and I help him edit everything and upload his videos online.
My dad is fine with it. He spends long hours at the courthouse and sometimes doesn’t come home until ten at night, and he doesn’t want me sitting alone at home.
Ever since Uncle Dimitri died he’s had this overwhelming guilt that work pulls him away from what’s happening at home and I’m constantly left on my own.
But now that my friendship with Bay has grown so tight, I’ve sort of gained a second home.
I’m not alone anymore. I have the Nolans supporting me, and I get along with them so well, sometimes even better than they get along with each other.
I feel great in their house, safe, welcomed, like they’re happy to see me every time I walk in, making me feel like I’m part of their family.
But all of this is part of the picture of my friendship with Bay, not part of the romantic thing between us which, for reasons I don’t understand, can’t seem to manifest. So I keep coming over, but there is still this unanswered question living inside me all the time: why am I only his best friend from school? What’s wrong with me?
These months are still innocent and carefree, but even then something is coming, something huge, like a storm front rolling in, and I have no idea what’s ahead.
At the end of October Bay is asked to play at the school Halloween party. The principal appreciates his talent and has been involving him in more and more events.
Everyone’s getting their costumes ready, Bay wants to go as a zombie angel with dark, broken wings, and I’m planning to show up as a necromancer. I do it on purpose, since necromancers are supposed to be able to raise the dead, and on some level that’s exactly what I wish I could do for Bay.
Why? Because Bay exists on two levels.
There’s the one he shows the world, where he smiles and talks and interacts with people in a way that almost seems natural, but isn’t, really.
Underneath it all there’s something I can’t understand and can’t reach no matter how hard I try, something like a strange core of darkness he protects fiercely.
No matter how close I am to Bay or how much time we spend together, there’s a huge barrier between us that I can’t cross.
I fight it, I try to figure it out, to break it apart, to lift whatever that thing is, but nothing works.
Sometimes, when we sit next to each other, I grab his hand just to play around, and he waits only for the moment when he can pull it away in a manner that looks natural.
When I lean against him, his whole body tenses, like he wants to grow sharp thorns and push me away.
Sometimes I think maybe the problem is me.
Maybe I’m repulsive, since I get those patches of atopic rash on my face, and I’m always coughing, and my asthma attacks show up every few days. I know I’m not the picture of a healthy, vibrant omega teenager, but for some reason I don’t think any of that bothers Bay.
He always worries about my allergies, checks ingredients online whenever we eat anything to make sure nothing will set me off, he always makes sure I carry my EpiPen and inhaler, and he does it with this real, warm care. Sometimes I feel like he worries about me more than my own dad.
That’s why I sometimes wonder if he sees me as a younger brother, but when I think about it more, that doesn’t feel like the answer either.
Sometimes I talk to my dad about it. In freshman year he seemed very pleased that Bay kept his distance, but now in sophomore year even he seems a bit surprised by how strong that distance still is.
One morning while we’re having breakfast before school he says,
"You know, there might be another reason Bay doesn’t want to be your boyfriend…"
I see him hesitate as he rubs his chin a little, then he adds,
"A few days ago I talked to a psychologist who was helping one of the boys from a case I’m working on. Part of the picture was that this boy avoided any kind of close or romantic relationships, and the reason was that he had been sexually abused."