Check & Mate

by Ali Hazelwood

Mrs. Agarwal is at her desk, pretending to grade papers but probably reading Bill Nye erotic fanfiction.

Me x

Darcy stayed the same. Always reading, always precocious, always too observant for her own good.

Oh look it’s me

“I’m hungry.” “Then starve.” I bite the inside of my cheek. Honestly, I think I’m growing on him. “But this is my emotional support sandwich.” “Then have a mental breakdown.” He turn- signals and swerves to the right so hard, I almost hit my head against the window.

Koch told Vanity Fair that you and I are dating, and Page Six published pics of us in Toronto, and now whatever small nerdy percentage of the world cares about chess thinks that we have a thing.” “And we don’t?” I turn to glare at him. “You don’t have things. You told me so.” “I also said ‘until recently.’ ”

“Your presence in this house might be what gets me up in the morning, but we can stop pretending this situation is anything like what either of us wants or needs.”

My brain short- circuits. Maybe it’s the late hour, or how I just dropped my knight less than ten moves into a mortifying game. Maybe it’s Nolan’s clean, familiar smell. All I know is that one moment I’m looking at him, and the next I’m not— because I’ve leaned forward and pressed my mouth against his in a . . . A kiss.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I— ” I shoot to my feet. My knee knocks over the board, scattering the pieces. I lift my fingers to my mouth, and— it feels weird. Different. Changed. “Mallory.”

“Touch- take rule,” he murmurs. He stands, too. Every step back I take is one forward for him. “I— What?” “You touched me. Can’t stop now. Touch- take rule.”

You said you wanted to play.” “I said there were things I wanted more.”

Maybe it’s that I want it too much,

He wants it very, very much. He wants it as much as I do.

“I’ve got you, Mallory. Nothing bad is going to happen. You can let yourself want this, because you already have it. You have me.”

I fall asleep mid- game— for the second time in my life held by someone, for the second time in my life held by Nolan Sawyer.

“Why did you keep it?” “It made me think of you.”

“Why would you keep something that makes you think of me?” I feel him shrug. “Because I think of you anyway, Mallory.”

“I don’t understand why you’re in my head.” “You’re in mine, too. But I know why.”

“Just . . . what do you want from me?” “I want everything.”

“Are you real?” The air between us swells, overflows. “Sometimes I’m scared that I imagined you. Sometimes I think you’re only in my head.”

“I need to think.” “Sure. Think. Think out loud.” His curved lips press against my throat. “Think while I kiss you.

“This is a mess. Why are you so happy?” His smile doesn’t waver. “You don’t know?”

stop in my tracks when I see him, but I’m not startled. Maybe I should be surprised to see him there— the time, the place, the coincidence don’t exactly make sense—but my gut tells me that this is fine. This is why I’m here: for Nolan.

“Because when I’m with you, Mallory, everything is different. When I’m with you, I want to play more than I want to win.”

There is also the fact that three months ago Sawyer appeared to lean in and playfully bite Greenleaf’s ear while walking away from the final game at the Linares International Chess Tournament, in which he defeated her.

What if they can read each other’s minds over the chessboard, or they have inside jokes about the other’s weaknesses?

eyewitnesses reported that when asked how he felt about the possibility of Mallory Greenleaf accruing enough points to take the No. 1 spot from him, he simply smiled before walking away.

Taylor Swift. You know what you did, Taylor.