Check & Mate

by Ali Hazelwood

“Can I kiss you?” “But our game—” “I resign. You win. Can I kiss you?” “No! I mean . . . why?” “Because I want to.”

“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.”

Nolan makes a choked noise in the back of his throat and hides his face in the curve of my neck, as though unable to witness the mess I made.

“You’re the one who ignores people. Leave them behind before they leave you, right? Spare yourself the mortifying ordeal of being known.”

“Why did you keep it?” “It made me think of you.” His arms close around my rib cage, right below my breasts, and I close my eyes.

“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.”

“I’m all in.” He slowly lowers his forehead until it touches mine.

“I think about this every second of every day.” His palm slides up my back, and my body is like a pawn in his hands.

He turns us around and then we’re on the unmade bed, the twisted sheets digging into my spine. “You’ll be playing the most beautiful chess I’ve ever seen, and I dream about having you under me. It’s fucking confusing.”

“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 hope,” I say, serious, “that you’re going to like this as much as chess.” “I think,” he tells me with a small smile, “that I already do.”

I feel the same. Like everyone around us is part of the same connective tissue, and you’re just floating about. Unbound.

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

I don’t want to leave. I want to be with him. I want to sleep with him in this bed. I want to wake up to him pulling me into himself. I want to eat the overcooked pasta he makes and share his toothpaste and know his moods by heart.

“I love you,” he says plainly. Not a desperate plea, but a calmly stated fact.

But life is too long to be afraid.” I snort wetly. “Too short, you mean.” “No. Years spent carrying grudges, talking yourself out of things that might make you happy? They go slowly.”

“If some think that she needs an unfair advantage, then they need to pay better attention when she plays.”

What do I admire the most? What? He is so dynamic. He fights to the last point, using every piece, every moment, every resource, bleeding the chessboard dry. He is deadly and meticulous. He is fun and interesting and unpredictable. He is an adventure.

He studies me for longer than is comfortable. Galaxies pass through his black eyes, and I wonder whether this second could last a century. Whether the universe could be just me and him, understanding each other on a forever loop.

“I want to be with you. As much as I can. As much as you’ll have me.”

“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.”