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He needs someone he cares about who also cares about him.
I remember how much Nolan hates the Grünfeld only after he groans and sinks his teeth into my earlobe.
Sometimes his chin rests on my shoulder, boyish, artless, and I know that he’s just doing what feels good.
“What do you want from me, Nolan, and—will you please stop smiling.” “I’m not.” He grins wider.
“I’m serious, if you don’t quit smiling.” “That’s not a threat. It’s not even a grammatically correct sentence.”
“I love you,” he says plainly. Not a desperate plea, but a calmly stated fact.
“Just checking in if you’re done acting like a big whiny shit who’s all alone against the world. Any updates?” I blink again. “Listen, I know being mean is your whole shtick, but—” “I think it’s yours, actually.”
“I thought we now just sprinkled the word generously in conversation. For seasoning.”
“If some think that she needs an unfair advantage, then they need to pay better attention when she plays.”
This is why I’m here: for Nolan.
“I can’t believe you prefaced all of this with ‘you probably never thought of it.’ ” Nolan’s tone is dry and amused, and I can’t keep the words inside me anymore.
I (Mallory Greenleaf; US; World ranking: #1,843) glance at my opponent (Nolan Sawyer; US; World ranking: #1).
