Check & Mate

by Ali Hazelwood

“No, really, which one is chess? The queen conquers Catan without passing Go—”

Wow. So eloquent. Much articulate.

This guy cannot be Nolan Sawyer. Or, not the Nolan Sawyer. The famous one.

God bless libraries.

Interesting stuff, but just reading about it seems like studying a manual on how to knit without ever touching needles.

There is a specific reason I’m lying to my family about my new job, and that reason is: I don’t know.

“I like it better when men shut their mouths and stuff their rooks up their asses, but clearly we can’t always get what we want.”

“You tricked me,” he spits out. “Why? Are you annoyed by it?” “Yes!” I smile. “Then yes. I tricked you.”

I should have gotten myself a chess nom de plume. Quinn Von Rook. Horsie McCastle. Knighterella Black.

“If you eliminate Mallory,” he says, like he has a right to my name, like he can say a word and make me blush, “I won’t play.”

My twelve-year-old sister, who sleeps with a stuffed fox, just asked the world’s number one chess player if he came over to bang me.

“Okay, I’m going to nuke this conversation and remind you that you cannot ask people you barely know about their sexual orientation during dinner. Or at all.”

“So,” Darcy interjects, “when are you guys going to have sex?” Nolan’s “Hard to tell” overlaps with my “Never!” and completely swallows it.

“He’s cute,” Mom whispers while I’m loading the dishwasher. “Cole Sprouse?” “Nolan.”

“Does your family think we’re dating?” He doesn’t look upset. More in the ballpark of proud. “Who knows.” Probably. “Is it a problem?” I want him to say yes, and then throw in his face that it’s his fault for showing up unannounced. He thwarts my move. “Who doesn’t love a good fake dating scheme.”

I’m assuming he owns the Lucid Air parked in front of the Abebes’ place. Because of course he’d own my dream car.

“For someone whose biggest fear is not having a ride to the ER, Sabrina the Teenage Bitch is pretty crafty at finding one on short notice.”

I turn around, but my body already knows, like my atoms vibrate differently when he’s near. Which probably just means that his presence gives me radiation poisoning.

I want him to dream of my stupid eyes.

“You came to my house and ate many of my ice cream sandwiches.” “Right.” He clucks his tongue. “Unforgivable. Do report me.”

He opens his M&M’s, offering them to me. “I was homeschooled.”

because…I’m going bananapants? “You’ll live. So Emil and Tanu broke up because of distance, but they’re still into each other?” “And refuse to do anything about it.” “Lots of pining, I bet.”

“I bet you’re great at talking people off the ledge.” “I’d be better at it if I knew what the hell a TikTok duet is.”

Do I summon him with a pentagram made of rooks, or—Emil!

“Not sure,” he mumbles. “Either everything or nothing.”

“Stay.” He leans into me, breath warm, chapped lips against my temple. “You never stay.”

today…maybe I just love this kitchen. It’s large and cozy and modern, and I want to use it every day. I want to common-law marry it and adopt an entire pack of incontinent shar-peis with it.

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.’ ”

“What about feeling closer to someone? Making a connection?” “Maybe. I’m sure sex means different things to different people, and they’re all valid.”

I put the soup in his Emil’s Little Bitch mug because it’s a mental image I deserve to have.

“This apartment he left you…It’s big for one person,” I murmur. “Want to move in?” His tone matches mine, intimate.

“Some of us are not unlearned prodigies mistakenly assumed to be Nolan Sawyer’s new concubine. Some of us have to actually practice chess.”

“Did that poutine we shared in Toronto mean nothing to you?”

“It’s odd that there are so few women in chess. But I don’t feel odd.”

“Sex is good, but have you ever heard Koch’s little whine when he’s checkmated?”

“Our love language is anti-Koch memes.”

“You asshole,” I say without heat. He lifts one eyebrow. “Uncalled-for.” “Finally revealing yourself.” “You knew I was here.”

“I…if I become your second, won’t I be training with you all the time? I’ll know everything. I’ll be so familiar with your style, you’ll have a hard time taking me by surprise again. If I become your second, I’ll know you.” There is a beautiful, indecipherable half smile on his lips. “You think I don’t want you to know me?”

don’t know if I can stand to be near him, and I don’t know if I can stand not to be.

“Is it wise, to go to a cabin in the woods with the Kingkiller?”

Mom laughs softly. “You guys still not together?” “Nope.” “You sure?”

“Chess is a bad idea.” “Why?” “Look where it got me.” “It got you here. To me.”

You might want to play chess against me more than anything, but it doesn’t give you the right to—” “Not more than anything,” he murmurs with a lingering glance.

“You’ve supposedly been pining for this game for months—” “That’s not what I’ve been pining for, and you can stop lying to yourself about it. I don’t want to play with you like this.”

“Touch-take rule,” he murmurs.

“Can I kiss you?” “But our game—” “I resign. You win. Can I kiss you?”

“I don’t know. It feels right. Besides, I don’t get nervous much.”

“It’s not out of the blue for me.” “It isn’t?” “I came to terms with this months ago, Mallory. The first time we played, maybe.”

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.

(Nolan: “Who cares? It’ll be faster.” Emil: “You are—and I cannot stress this enough—a tasteless peasant.”)