Page 31 of Reckless Love

“I have a five-year-old,” I say, as though I obviously play. Truthfully, I saw the checkers and chess boards set up on a side table at Stephen’s parents’ place. Someone’s playing in that apartment, and I’m betting Stephen takes part.

He actually seems to consider it for a beat. “I should stay alert.”

“That security terminal transports. You did it for dinner.” He wants to say yes, and a thrill runs down my spine.

“You know how to play?” he asks again.

“Stephen,” I say as though he’s being silly. I did watch a few videos of people playing with no sound upstairs to make sure I understood the basics. Landon got this game from someone at one of his birthdays. I’m surprised the cellophane is off it.

“One game,” Stephen says, taking the security unit off the wall and leading us back to the small table the three of us ate dinner at.

While he gets the device in a position that makes him happy, I open the game. Immediately, the jig is up. The board and games pieces are still wrapped in plastic.

“You and Landon play this a lot, huh?” he says, but this expression has an old hint of teasing that I recognize.

“So much,” I say as I rip off the thin coating. “Can’t get enough. You?”

Stephen takes the pieces from me and sets them on the board, which is a good thing because I didn’t pay close enough attention to the videos.

“I play with my parents sometimes,” Stephen says. “Or Vanessa.”

“How embarrassed are you going to be when I beat you?” I ask, sliding into the seat across from him.

“You’re going to beat me?” he scoffs. “You probably don’t even know how to play, and I’m not helping.”

“But your favorite thing is helping,” I say, calling back to his conversation with Landon.

He purses his lips and shakes his head a little. “I probably overstepped there.”

“I was glad you said something to him,” I say. “He thinks you’re a superhero.” I push the board a little in his direction. “You go first.”

He slides one of the round pieces forward, and when I mirror his move, a hint of a smile tips his lips.

It takes a few moves for me to settle into what I can and can’t do. Despite Stephen’s claim, he does help me, and I win the first game.

“On a scale of one to ten,” I say, hardly able to keep the laughter out of my voice, “how embarrassed?”

“I practically beat myself,” he says.

“So a ten. I’m hearing ten.”

“I’m not helping you this time.”

“I don’t need your help,” I say, straightening.

He doesn’t help me, no guidance at all, and I beat him again.

“Fuck,” he mutters when I get him cornered.

“I would say best two out of three, but that still makes me the winner,” I gloat.

“No, no,” he says, scrolling through the cameras on the unit in front of him. “We’ll have to play again. Beginner’s luck. It’s just that your play is so erratic.”

“It’s a strategy,” I say.

“Chaos is a strategy?”

“Like guerilla warfare.”