Page 7 of Quiet Obsession
“You sure you don’t want one?” He nudges my shoulder.
“No.” Ugh, that came out rude, so I add, “Thanks.”
“Make a move, Dash,” Noah says.
“Noo,” he groans, sinking into the cushions. “I don’t want to play anymore.”
“You never want to play when you’re losing.”
“I never want to play when I’m playing withyou,” he retorts, scooting forward. “Can’t wait until Creed gets back and you stop torturing me with this shit.”
He pushes his rook to C4, making me cringe because he blatantly opens his queen.
Noah’s eyes flick to mine. “You play?”
Hyde snorts under his breath. “She’s better than Dash, that’s for sure.”
“Everyone’sbetter than me.”
Noah sweeps off the pieces in one fluid motion and resets them quickly, landing each dead center of its square.On top of controlled, he might also have a touch of OCD.
Perhaps a little more than a touch.
He turns the board so the white pieces face me and leans back, eyes boring into mine. “Your move.”
It’s intimidating how his gaze never falters.
I hesitate, doodling against the couch cushion. A chess game might be innocent on the surface, but it gives away things I stopped giving away last year, like the fact Ienjoychess. The fact I’m good at it and strategically minded.
People mock anything once they decide you’re beneath them, and they don’t stop at belittling your shortcomings; they go after your strengths, too.
Especially your strengths.
Still, my hands itch inside my jumper sleeves, and I hate second-guessing my every move, so I glance at Hyde. He obviously trusts his friends... could I?ShouldI? It’s been months since I risked loosening my guard.
Hyde shrugs but the lines around his eyes crinkle with a smile. Inhaling a deep breath, I scoot to the edge of the couch, curl my index finger around a pawn, and move it to E4.
Noah smiles. Well, the corner of his mouth twitches, but I think that counts. He studies the board for a long moment before making his move.
“I’ll go easy on you,” he tells me. “But only this once.”
“Don’t,” I reply.
The last thing I need is another Hyde tiptoeing around me. I’m not a sore loser. My dad is, though. We used to play every evening, and he never took me checking his king well.
“There arethreeof you now?” Dash groans again. “You people need a fucking hobby.”
Noah lifts an eyebrow, eyes on my fingers hovering over another pawn. “This is a hobby.”
“No, this is a fucked-up mental war. A long, boring, andpointlesswar.” He turns my way, his warm breath tickling my ear. “He made me sit through a two-hour match with Creed once. They didn’t speak the entire time.”
“I lost that game,” Noah admits with another imperceptible smile.
“Because Creedcheated.”
“Creed doesn’t cheat,” Hyde says, finishing his beer.
“He doesn’t getcaughtcheating,” Dash corrects.
