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“Right.” He clucks his tongue. “Unforgivable. Do report me.”
I roll my eyes. “Whatever. So, who’s dating whom?”
“No one’s dating anyone. Not anymore, at least.”
I glance at Tanu and Emil. She stole his phone and is scowling at it, tongue peeking out from between her teeth as she matches Swedish fish. Emil stares at her, surprisingly somber.
“Was it them?”
Nolan nods silently. “Then they went to different schools— Tanu’s taking the week off, but she’s at Stanford. Emil’s at NYU.”
“I see. Have you known them for long?”
“Forever. We trained together with . . . ” He stops. “Until they decided pro chess wasn’t for them.”
“When was that?”
“Three years ago for Emil. Tanu, before that.”
I wonder if they are his Easton. And because I’ve been hearing from Easton less and less, about stuff that seems more and more trivial, the question slips out:
“Does it feel weird? That they went to college, and you didn’t?”
He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Sometimes. Sometimes it feels like they’re on their way to have lives I can never understand. Sometimes I’m just glad I don’t have to readGreat Expectationsor study for a trigonometry final.”
I smile. “Pretty sure trig’s in high school.”
“It is?”
“Yup. You didn’t take it?”
He opens his M&M’s, offering them to me. “I was homeschooled.”
“Because of chess?”
“For many reasons. And I have no idea what a cosine is.” He pops a yellow M&M in his mouth. When he swallows, his throat bobs, a strong, mesmerizing movement that I notice because . . . I’m going bananapants?
“You’ll live. So Emil and Tanu broke up because of distance, but they’re still into each other?”
“And refuse to do anything about it.”
“Lots of pining, I bet.”
“I do get several angsty late- night phone calls asking why Tanu just liked the shirtless picture of some Stanford swimmer on Instagram, or who’s the skank who keeps dueting Emil on TikTok.”
“I bet you’re great at talking people off the ledge.”
“I’d be better at it if I knew what the hell a TikTok duet is.”
I laugh. Emil and Tanu glance at me, then exchange a glance I cannot decipher. “Were you jealous when they first got together?”
“Jealous?” He seems to find the question surprising.
“Yeah. I mean, you guys seem close. And they’re both really attractive . . .” My cheeks heat. I think he notices because the corner of his mouth twitches.
“I wasn’t jealous. I couldn’t understand how someone could be so enthralled by the idea of being alone in a room with another person without a chessboard.”
“But now you can?”
