“I’ve been playing chess since I was four years old. I’m not tired of it yet.” “So I’m a game to you?” It’s not an accusation; it’s a clarification. “No, not a game. You’re the one.” “Which one?” “The only one in the world.” He slips his fingers down my shin and brushes lightly across the top of my foot, the merest dusting of a touch, as if I’m dangerously delicate, liable to crumble with any pressure at all. “Everyone else is a piece. A pawn, a knight, a king. Not you.” I snort softly. “Let me guess. I’m the queen?” “Nope. You’re the one on the other side of the board.”
