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“That seems . . . foolish.”
“Yeah, well. Foolish people will say foolish things.”
He’s not meeting my eyes. He stares down into his empty mug, elbows on the marble counter, and I feel myself leaning closer. Nolan seems raw, and I don’t want to risk touching him, but I’d like to behere. With him.
It’s something I do with Easton, when she’s feeling down. Darcy. Sabrina, when she lets me. Get a little closer than is polite. Share the same air. Let our scents mix together. I do it for my sisters and my friend, and now for this stupid overgrown world chess champion that I’m apparently nursing back to health.
Weirdos, both of us.
“This apartment he left you . . . It’s big for one person,” I murmur.
“Want to move in?” His tone matches mine, intimate.
“Sure. I’ll sell my pancreas. It should cover the first three months of rent.”
“You don’t have to pay rent. Just pick a room.”
“And I’ll pay you back in company? Save you from having dinner alone at your candelabra- lit fifty- foot cherrywood table, like Bruce Wayne?”
“I usually have dinner standing up in front of that chessboard over there.”
“I’m surprised you have dinner at all. And don’t just sustain yourself on the tears of your rivals.”
He smiles again, and God.
He is offensively, uniquely, devastatingly handsome.
I take a step back, reaching for my purse, throwing away the Snickers wrapper. “Leftover soup’s in the fridge. Take ibuprofen again in five hours. And have someone come over so if you pass out, they’ll notice before the rats eat your intestines.”
“You’re here.”
“Iwashere. I’m leaving now.”
Nolan deflates visibly, and something like compassion bites into me.
“Where’s Emil?” I ask.
“I’m not going to call Emil because I have the sniffles. He’s busy with midterms and spending three hours a day pining after Tanu.”
“Someone else, then.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.”
“You won’t. You were half dead when I got here.”
“Then stay.”
“I’m already late for Zugzwang. I . . .”
He’s staring at me with those dark, clear eyes, and I just can’t go. I can’t leave him. What if he gets dehydrated and dies? Will that be on me, then? I’m not giving his ghost the satisfaction of haunting several generations of Greenleaf women. I’m keeping this jerk alive.
“Since both our jobs consist of playing chess, we should playa game,” he says while I text Defne that something urgent has come up. “Just to be productive members of this capitalistic society.”
“Nice try.”
“Did it work?”
“No. Nolan, you still look like death. Just go nap while I waste my day watchingDragon Ageplaythroughs on your Wi-Fi.”
