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Something else I’d rather not talk about.
“Must be cool to play with him,” the Sri Lankan girl says, following my gaze.
I look away. “He can be kind of a dick,” I say, though he hasn’t really been one to me.
She chuckles, low and smoky. She’s really my type. “All geniuses are. I heard he has an IQ of 190. Maybe higher, but tests cannot measure it.”
“He doesn’t eat meat loaf like someone with a 190 IQ,” I mutter, resentful.
“Sorry?”
“Nothing. Um, checkmate, by the way.” I stand, wiping my palms over my leggings and abandoning my half- hearted seduction plans. My heart’s not really in it, or maybe I’m too tired to get laid. “It was great to meet you. I’ve got an early morning and— ”
“Where are you going, Mal?” Tanu appears out of nowhere. “It’s like, not even midnight!”
“Oh, you don’t have to keep it down for me. I just need to buy presents for my sisters tomorrow morning, so— ”
“But don’t gonow! Don’t you want pizza?”
“Pizza?”
“Yes, let’s go get pizza!”
“I’m kind of tired, and— ”
“Then we’re getting it and bringing it back!” She turns aroundand bellows drunkenly, “Who wants to come get midnight pizza?”
Might be because Tanu is the life of the party, or because pizza is hands down the best food in the world, but in half a minute the music is turned off and our shared area empties out of everyone but me.
Maybe I’m eighty years old inside, but: Blessed. Quiet.
“You’re not coming?” the blond woman who was with Nolan earlier asks from the door. Her accent is very pretty. But we’ve never really talked, so I’m confused why she’d want to know whether I—
“No.”
I startle and turn around. Nolan— she was talking to Nolan. Who’s still on the couch.
“You sure?”
He barely spares her a glance. “Very.” He probably hates pizza. Only eats authentic Sicilian calzone made with tomatoes grown around the mouth of Mount Etna.
Whatever. I’m going to bed. “Nolan, when Tanu comes back, will you tell her that I went to sleep?” I wave past the chairs, the chess sets, the couch. “Have a good— ”
His hand snatches my wrist. I’m too surprised to wiggle out. “Let’s play a bit, Mallory.”
I freeze. I stiffen. And this time I do wiggle out. “I told you, I don’t— ”
“— play outside of training and tournaments. Yes. But you’ve been playing all night, outside of training and tournaments. With five different people.”
I scoff. “Did you count?”
“Yes.” He looks up at me. Stars dance occasionally across theline of his jaw, his cheekbones. “I was sure you’d end the night in Bandara’s room.”
“Bandara?”
“Ruhi Bandara. You two were just playing.”
I take a step back and refuse to admit that I entertained the same thought. Instead I say, “I don’t want to play against you.”
