Hector was now the one making all the small talk while Walter sat there like a damn mute. How the hell did he expect to impress this girl? Worst of all, it was happening again. In spite of her indifference toward him on Saturday night, Hector thought it might actually be possible for him to be attracted to a cute little redhead like Charlee. Now he knew it was. Not only was he having an exasperatingly hard time keeping his eyes off her but he found it impossible to not add a flirtatious undertone to everything he said to her.
His comment about her friend Drew was meant to tone it the hell down and throw her off a little. He was sure if she hadn’t already, she would notice his eyes tracing every inch of her face: her eyes, her lips, and that porcelain skin. Then there were the freckles. She didn’t have as many as you’d expect on a redhead, but he never thought freckles would be so damn distracting or that he’d be having visions of kissing them slowly, one by one. Even that sexy little red eyebrow she’d lifted at him when she said she was “born ready” had sucked the air out of him.
Well, he’d just have to suck it back in because there was no way he’d be doing anything to move in on a girl Walter was so hung up on, no matter how unlikely it was that she’d be reciprocating Walter’s feelings. Hector was already going above and beyond anything he’d normally do for someone he didn’t even know all that well. And it was all for the sake of shaking the guilt that had troubled him for too long. He wasn’t about to blow all his efforts away for this. Nope, this wasn’t happening.
With everything he had going on in his life anyway, he didn’t have time for relationships. The most he could do right now was fun. And there were plenty of other girls out there he could have fun with. Saturday night had been further proof of that. Of course, Sam had thrown a wrench in that one, but Hector had no doubt he’d finish what he started with those two eventually. The girls had been just as disappointed as he was, and since he’d invited them also to Friday night’s party, he’d make it up to them soon enough.
After taking his turn, Hector glanced at Walter, giving him a look as Charlee took her time studying the board. Walter stared at him blankly. Hector opened his eyes wide, willing Walter to come up with something—anything. But frustratingly, Walter remained silent.
“Your turn,” Charlee said, sitting back in her chair.
Unlike most players who leaned in the whole time studying the board and focusing on their possible next move, Charlee would sit back during her opponent’s turn. Hector had observed that about her even during her game with Walter. For some reason, it irritated him now. Maybe it was because that chip on his shoulder was growing by the minute from her continued unimpressed and indifferent attitude toward him. Her sitting back the way she was made it seem as if she were sending out a message loud and clear—she didn’t have to put much effort into beating him.
He knew he was being paranoid, and most likely, as usual, he was over thinking things. She’d sat that same way during her game with Walter, but obviously, she really hadn’t had to try in that case since he’d so easily let her take the game.
With the sudden urge to not just win but really show off, Hector thought of some of the moves Sam had used on him in the past: the maddening ones Hector never even saw coming.
Thoughts of Sam distracted him for a moment. Hector had been so relieved to find out Sam was going to be fine. Having lost the only father figure he’d ever had recently, Hector wouldn’t be able to handle something happening to Sam.
Being so busy with Sam and training, Hector all but forgotten about Charlee’s snobbish attitude until Walter had showed up last night. Even though Hector refused to ask outright, he did get a few things out of Walter about what the people on the school’s chess team thought of him so far. They’d been thoroughly impressed. Of course, Walter didn’t say who exactly, and Hector was not about to ask, but he seriously doubted Charlee had been one of the ones so impressed.
It wasn’t until they were into the game a good ten moves that Hector picked up on Charlee’s plan. He couldn’t be sure yet, but if he weren’t mistaken, she was imitating the opening moves from his game in Saturday’s tournament, not the game in the final round against Bisbee either. This was the opening he’d used on Kowalewski—the player he’d knocked out before Bisbee, the one who was supposed to have been the biggest threat, the guy he'd specifically prepared his opening novelty for.
After a few more moves, there was no mistake about it. It was exactly the game he’d played.
Clenching his jaw, his mind raced now. What was she doing? She had chosen to play this for a reason. Why? Should he be flattered that she’d obviously took the time to examine his game and apparently memorized it, or should he be pissed that maybe she really was being snobbish—showing him up? What idea had she found that he hadn't when he prepared for Kowalewski?
Hector looked up at her after her latest move, meeting those deep baby blues once again. Nothing in her blank expression gave anything away. He decided not to let on that he knew what she was doing, because he still couldn’t figure out why. Instead he would use the fact that he knew what moves she’d be making before she actually made them to his advantage.
He’d completely given up on helping Walter make small talk with her. If Walter couldn’t even come up with a few comments about chess, the one thing these two had in common, then he couldn’t be helped. More onlookers gathered around Hector and Charlee: onlookers who may very well be thinking the same thing he suspected both Walter and Charlee thought—that maybe he wasn’t cut out for the U.S. team or even the school team. It’d been common knowledge that whoever made the U.S. team would be automatically invited to play for the ESU team.
Walter was on his own. Right now, Hector was on a mission. There was something more important he needed to focus on now. Obviously, Charlee was up to something. Hector was going to figure it out one way or another.
And then, she played her new move. It was bold, nothing like the quiet play that had led up to this position. Kowalewski’s knight had passively retreated here, but this was a challenge, a pawn pushed up the last file on the board, like a bomb going Ka-boom on his king’s pawn shield.
Hector couldn’t help but smirk. Was she getting nervous? Sure she’d taken out the pawns in front of his king, but it was such a gamble. He could just fend off her attack and then slowly squeeze out a win in the endgame.
The next move proved she was panicking because she sacrificed her queen for a pawn. Hector smirked again as he took her queen and set it aside with a sympathetic shrug. She wouldn’t even look at him now. Hector watched her serious expression, more than amused at how she made her next move so quickly.
“Check,” she said in the most nonchalant manner possible, meeting his eyes with a smug smile.
Hector’s eyes were instantly on the board. The pawns she’d gone after so aggressively had actually opened up a file for her rook to put his king in check. He moved his king to the only place he could, stunned that he hadn’t caught that. She had him on the run now. Examining the board, he saw how she must’ve planned this in advance, because in the next couple of moves using her bishop and then her knight, she got him.
“Checkmate,” she said then sat back in her seat again, looking a little too pleased with herself.