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Frenetic

T he dinner was good. Maybe not quite at the level of one of Tess’s dinners, but he thought it unwise to make that comparison outside of his mind. Chess and cooking; apparently, Tess was allowed to lock down any hobby that started with the letter C. Nevertheless, he thoroughly enjoyed eating dinner with Victoria. Especially because he had a massive appetite after three rounds of passionate lovemaking with her almost sister-in-law.

It was the only good taste allowed in his mouth. Defeat was the other thing he consumed—a lot of it. After seven chess matches in a row—three before dinner, two during, two after—that she’d so far claimed victory in, Liam gritted his teeth. He’d been so close, and now it seemed like the natural order had restored itself.

He sat with his hands clasped before his mouth, staring at the chessboard. She’d trounced him again. He hung around longer, knew the openings, even had a few good moves in the mid-game, but he still couldn’t seem to bring her down once they transitioned past move fifteen or twenty. Were his plans too ambitious, not ambitious enough? Was he too obvious about them, not committing hard enough? He really couldn’t tell.

“You’re staring rather intensely,” Victoria noted, sipping from her wine glass—she’d gotten herself the real stuff, and he’d just stuck with water. Maintaining this “intense focus” really upped his thirst, and he’d nearly drained a whole pitcher’s worth in the past hour. There was nearly more ice than liquid left in it, where it sat on the table.

“I just really want to win,” he grunted.

“I can see that,” Victoria said, brilliant eyes sparkling with a hint of mirth. “That badly?”

His eyes lifted, meeting hers. “Yes.”

Victoria didn’t respond. She only took another sip of her wine, longer than the last, and let him have the time to review. Afterward, they leaped into their eighth game of the day, which was now evolving into a crisp, balmy evening.

He got to play white, which meant he could go first. So, as he’d done twice already, he went for the Ruy Lopez opening. Having mostly played the London when going up against Victoria, he’d yet to show he knew this one. Maybe it was the wrong avenue for him to take against a more experienced player, but he’d read, watched, and been told repeatedly it was worth adding to his repertoire. It was aggressive, so it should grant him some tactical options, and maybe he could catch her off guard, which he felt he needed to accomplish in one of these games.

Most importantly, he’d secretly practiced this opening with Tess. She’d admitted that she didn’t use it often, so hopefully, Victoria wouldn’t be too practiced against it.

Drawing in a deep breath, Liam advanced his king’s pawn two spaces.

Victoria did the same thing, causing them to butt heads in the center of the board.

Liam freed his rightmost knight.

Victoria did the same thing.

His freed bishop flew across the board, ending up directly diagonal to her freed knight.

Victoria pushed her corner pawn up one space, threatening his bishop.

The last time this had occurred, he’d backed his bishop up, saving it for the time being—and then Victoria had freed her other knight.

He didn’t do that this time. His bishop slid over and struck down her knight. Her queen’s pawn moved over and equalized the total number of pieces on the board. He moved his queen’s pawn up by two spaces. The original pawn that Victoria had moved forward took his pawn.

Liam’s queen zoomed forward and captured it. Victoria’s queen did the same to his queen. And then Liam’s freed knight took her queen. And Victoria moved her leftmost bishop forward two diagonal spaces, cleaning up a straight line that had momentarily existed in the board.

Liam’s heart pounded; his fingers felt uncharacteristically tense. There’d been almost no downtime between their moves; everything progressed rapidly, like someone was fast-forwarding through their least favorite part of a movie. Yet, this had felt nothing like that. The adrenaline coursing through him left him almost winded from the pressure he felt on his chest.

They’d each taken only seven moves, and he already felt staggered by the frenetic pace of it all. He hadn’t even freed his other knight or castled his king, which he knew he needed to do next.

“It’s your turn, Liam,” Victoria whispered, drawing his attention back to the present—and the future. His next move, her next move, his next move, her next move.

He wanted to win.