Check & Mate by Ali Hazelwood

He’s not meeting my eyes. He stares down into his empty mug, elbows on the marble counter, and I feel myself leaning closer. Nolan seems raw, and I don’t want to risk touching him, but I’d like to be here. With him.

It’s something I do with Easton, when she’s feeling down. Darcy. Sabrina, when she lets me. Get a little closer than is polite. Share the same air. Let our scents mix together. I do it for my sisters and my friend, and now for this stupid overgrown world chess champion that I’m apparently nursing back to health.

Weirdos, both of us.

“This apartment he left you . . . It’s big for one person,” I murmur.

“Want to move in?” His tone matches mine, intimate.

“Sure. I’ll sell my pancreas. It should cover the first three months of rent.”

“You don’t have to pay rent. Just pick a room.”

“And I’ll pay you back in company? Save you from having dinner alone at your candelabra- lit fifty- foot cherrywood table, like Bruce Wayne?”

“I usually have dinner standing up in front of that chessboard over there.”

“I’m surprised you have dinner at all. And don’t just sustain yourself on the tears of your rivals.”

He smiles again, and God.

He is offensively, uniquely, devastatingly handsome.

I take a step back, reaching for my purse, throwing away the Snickers wrapper. “Leftover soup’s in the fridge. Take ibuprofen again in five hours. And have someone come over so if you pass out, they’ll notice before the rats eat your intestines.”

“You’re here.”

“I was here. I’m leaving now.”

Nolan deflates visibly, and something like compassion bites into me.

“Where’s Emil?” I ask.

“I’m not going to call Emil because I have the sniffles. He’s busy with midterms and spending three hours a day pining after Tanu.”

“Someone else, then.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.”

“You won’t. You were half dead when I got here.”

“Then stay.”

“I’m already late for Zugzwang. I . . .”

He’s staring at me with those dark, clear eyes, and I just can’t go. I can’t leave him. What if he gets dehydrated and dies? Will that be on me, then? I’m not giving his ghost the satisfaction of haunting several generations of Greenleaf women. I’m keeping this jerk alive.

“Since both our jobs consist of playing chess, we should play a game,” he says while I text Defne that something urgent has come up. “Just to be productive members of this capitalistic society.”

“Nice try.”

“Did it work?”

“No. Nolan, you still look like death. Just go nap while I waste my day watching Dragon Age playthroughs on your Wi-Fi.”

“Dragon what?”

And that’s how I find myself on Nolan’s leather couch, telling him about elves and eggheads and the end of the world, soothed by the video and by Nolan’s presence.

“I like this better than the Jughead show,” he says ten minutes in. I yawn, quite pleased.

Then, another ten minutes later, I’m only fast asleep.

THE EARLY AFTERNOON SUNLIGHT IS BRIGHT, BUT I DON’T care. I get to ignore it because the most delicious blanket is wrapped around me. Flawless, A+, 12/10, five- star Amazon review. It keeps me toasty and presses me into the back of the couch, solid and heavy, the perfect mix of hard and soft. Mostly hard, but in a good way. It even slipped a leg right between mine, and its arms are looped around my rib cage. It makes it nearly impossible for me to move, but I don’t mind, because I feel protected from attacks from all sides. Like the king during good chess.

I’m not leaving this place, ever. I live here now, in heaven. I open my eyes to survey my new kingdom and—

Nolan is right here. Looking at me. And something within me tells me I should panic, but all I can do is say:

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he says back, and I nearly feel the gravel of his voice against my lips. He smells of something ineffably rich and good.

“Hey,” I say again, stupidly, and we’re both smiling, and the air between us is sweet, and his eyes, his nose, his lips are suddenly closer, and—

Something buzzes and I splash back into reality. I wiggle inside of Nolan’s grip, shooting up to a sitting position.

“Ignore it,” he orders, but I ignore him.

What just happened? Oh God. I’ve never slept with someone else. Never. Not like this. Not . . . what’s happening?

And the buzz, it’s still going on. “I think— my phone— ” Here it is. How do you pick up? Red? No, green. “Hello.”

“Mal? You okay?” Defne.

“Yes. Sorry about not coming in, I— ”

“Have you seen the paper?”

Oh, shit. The article. “I . . . Don’t worry about it. It’s a lie, I’m not sleeping with Nolan.” Nolan’s eyebrow lifts. His arms are still looped around my waist, and I die inside. “I meant, we’re not— ”

“This has nothing to do with Nolan.”

“Oh.” Phew. “What then?”

“It’s the Challengers, Mal. They chose you as one of this year’s participants.”