Driven Snow (4 page)

Stare at a chessboard for enough hours and the sun comes up.

Snow dragged his body out the door of his condo and hurried to Campus Coffee. Millie waved as he walked in. “Hey, sunshine. I’ve got it all made.”

He smiled and grabbed his tea latte from the counter. “Bless you.”

She laughed. “That bad, huh? Did NorCal’s chess master have a bad knight? Get it? Knight?”

He glanced around and felt heat climb his neck. “Didn’t sleep well.”

“Hey, I’m just kidding. Enjoy your tea.” She cocked her fuzzy-haired head at the pastry sitting on a napkin beside where his large tea had stood. “Hang on.” She picked it up and inspected it carefully, then tossed it in the trash. “Sorry, sweetie. I told Carol to give you a croissant, but I forgot to say no nuts. That one has almonds. Let me get you a plain.”

He held up a hand. “I’m not actually very hungry, so I’ll just go with the tea. But I really appreciate you looking out for me.”

“Can’t have my favorite chess master dying on the floor of Campus Coffee.”

He grinned. “There are worse places.”

“Would you actually die if you ate the nuts?”

“I’ve got one of those pens for extreme allergic reactions, but if I forgot it or collapsed too fast, I imagine I could die.” He patted his pocket where he always kept his epinephrine pen.

“Glad we didn’t test the theory.”

“Me too. Thanks again for the tea. Just how I like it.”

“Kiss kiss, luv.” She swept back to serve the line of caffeine-deprived college students. Snow slid ten dollars into the tip jar—they billed him for all his purchases—and slipped out the door, dragging on his tea. Life was short and he was busy. Why couldn’t he let go of his sense he had to teach Riley Prince? Like he’d be responsible if the guy failed?
Sick.

Even though his class on particle physics was a favorite, he barely heard the lecture. When the professor gave them an assignment, Snow wrote it down, but the teacher stopped him on the way out. “You okay, Reynaldi?”

“Yes, sorry, sir. Had a bad night.” He shuddered at Millie’s awful joke.

The professor gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “I know the responsibility of chess has to be crushing, but you’re going to be a great physicist. Don’t lose sight of your priorities.”

“Thank you, sir. I won’t.”

But what were his priorities? He wandered out of the physics building into the bright fall day. He loved chess and he loved physics, but the old adage about those kind of things not keeping you warm at night felt deeply and sadly true. It had been a long time since anyone had held him or warmed him. Since his grandmother died.

Whose fault is that?

Mine.

Winston would be happy to hold you.

Don’t want Winston.

Dreamer.

Bitch.

“Reynaldi?”

Snow looked up. Coach McMasters sat on the bench outside the building. “Hello, sir.”

The coach stood. “I’m sorry to lie in wait for you, but I can’t let this go without trying. You know your friend failed with Riley. He didn’t feel like he got much out of the tutoring.”

Snow stared at his feet. “They didn’t give it much of a chance.”

“I know, but Riley was really discouraged. He said he got the same thing from Erhlinger that he gets from his professor.”

“Maybe that’s because it’s physics.”

“But you said you knew he could learn. You said that.”

Snow glanced up. The big, strong coach looked like someone had drowned his puppy.
Damn.
“Yes, I said that.”

“Why did you think it? How could you have been so wrong?”

You can say Riley’s dumber than you thought and call a halt to this whole mess.

No, I can’t.

Because you’re a mess.

True.

He sighed long and loud. “Many people teach physics as if it were a game of logic. Nothing could be further from the truth. Riley understands that innately. He just has to be taught from a field he understands.”

“Can you do it?” The coach sounded so hopeful.

“Maybe. Probably.”

“Oh man, if you can do that, I’ll send the whole cheerleading squad to root you on at your big game.”

Snow stared at the floor. “That won’t be necessary.”

“I guess I didn’t ask the right question. Will you do it?”

Slowly, Snow nodded. “When would you like to begin?”

“Riley’s professor has given him two weeks to get his scores up or he’ll declare him ineligible. That would throw him out of the final regular-season game that decides the standings in the championships. Without Riley, we’re toast. Start this minute, as far as I’m concerned.”

Snow looked around as if Riley might appear out of a bush. “Where is he?”

“He’s in class, and then he has practice. Any chance you could meet him at his apartment after that?”

Snow swallowed. “Okay.”

“Oh man, I don’t know how to thank you. Here.” He handed Snow a sheet of lined paper with an address on it. “This is where the kid lives. Six p.m., okay?”

“He doesn’t live at the fraternity house?” That was a blessing, anyway.

“No. He likes it off campus. I’m really relieved. If anybody can bail him out of this mess, it’s gotta be you.”

“No guarantees. You understand that? And I don’t have much time, so if my theory doesn’t prove true, I can’t keep going. Professor Kingsley’s going to be upset as it is.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Riley just may not have a brain for physics.”

“I can’t believe that. He’s smart. Honest.”

Snow nodded and looked at the address. Riley might be smart, but Snow was dumb as dog shit.

CHAPTER 4

“SNOWDEN, WHY
are you doing this? We need to practice. Study. When I told Coach McMasters I could help him, I certainly never meant for you to volunteer.”

Snow packed another notebook into his backpack. “I think I can help him. Maybe no one else can. Winston already tried.”

“Please. Physics is physics.”

Snow shrugged and kept packing.

“Maybe you have a crush on this big jock?”

Snow snapped his head up to find the professor smiling fondly at him. Snow shook his head. “It’s for the good of the school.”

“Of course—”

“Who has a crush on whom?” The silky, husky voice wormed its way up Snow’s spine. He tensed all over.

The professor laughed, but at least he said, “Nothing. Just teasing Snow. How are you, my dear?”

Snow kept staring at his backpack.

“Lovely, darling. But I’m so happy to have arrived in time to meet Snowden.”

The professor tapped Snow’s shoulder. “I forget you haven’t met Snow yet. Snow, come, meet Anitra.”

Snow looked up slowly, then looked back down.

Are you afraid she’ll turn you to stone?

Maybe.

He stood in front of her but couldn’t quite meet her eyes.

She reached out a slender hand with pale pink nails and grasped his chin. “Aren’t you adorably shy?” She tipped his face up until his eyes were on a level with hers, but still he looked down. “Whoever heard of a shy chess master? But there’s no need to be so with me, is there?” She squeezed slightly until his eyes flipped up, met hers, and held. A tremor started at his tailbone and wriggled its way up until he had to control the shiver. She smiled, showing perfect white teeth that gleamed against her smooth skin. “After all, I’m on your side.”

He wanted to rip his chin away. He wanted to run. Everything inside him turned to cosmic mush, and he did neither of those things.

“My God, Harold, you never told me your protégé was so pretty.”

The professor smiled. “Surely you’ve seen pictures of Snow.”

“They barely do him justice. That skin. Those lashes. Women would kill for them.”

She still held his chin like she was examining a cow. He didn’t want to be rude, but damn. “Excuse me.” He moved his chin to the side and out of her grasp.

She raised a brow. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was carried away by your charms.”

Not likely.

“I hope you’ll allow me to participate in your coaching a little. Sometimes an outsider’s view can make all the difference. I’m not blinded by my own strategy.”

Snow felt his eyes widen.

The professor touched his arm. “Thank you so much, my dear, but Snow has a very particular approach to chess that doesn’t lend itself to traditional coaching methods.”

An instant flash of annoyance crossed her beautiful face before she smiled sweetly. “Why would I ever be traditional about anything?”

“I’m familiar with both your styles, and one is not better than the other. They’re simply different.”

“That difference might give me the superior perspective.”

The professor looked at Snow.

Don’t do it. Don’t do it.

“No, I think I’ll go with the ‘if it ain’t broke’ approach and use our usual methods. But thank you so much for the offer.”

Relief made his head feel cottony. “Yes, thank you.”

Her bright smile came nowhere near her eyes. “Oh my, you even sound like a girl.”

A small crease appeared between the professor’s eyebrows. “No, he doesn’t, Anitra. Snow has a musical but perfectly masculine voice.”

She hooked a hand over his shoulder. “Of course, that’s what I meant. The music.”

Must get out of here.
Snow grabbed his backpack. “I’d best be going. Good to meet you.” He headed for the door.

“Don’t commit too much time to this enterprise, Snow. We have work to do, remember?”

“I won’t.”

Her voice stopped Snow. “Oh, what’s he doing?”

Don’t tell her. Don’t tell her.

“A bit of tutoring to help a fellow student.”

“How compassionate. To jeopardize his championship for another.”

Jeopardize? He glanced back to see the woman hanging off the professor like an ornament. Did she really care about him? But what could she gain from pretending? She must love him. “I won’t spend too much time. We can work later.”

“Good. See you tonight, then.” The professor gave him a wave.

Snow scurried out the door like dogs were chasing him. On the other side, he stopped and leaned back against the painted wood. Why was he reacting this way? Her wanting to coach him should flatter him, not scare him to death. Okay, so she was angry, but more at the professor than at him. Why did he feel like he could throw up?

He pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the time.
Get moving. Riley expects you.
God, that made him want to throw up too, but in a different way.

He started jogging across the campus. He hadn’t told Coach McMasters that he couldn’t drive, so he had to get to Riley’s apartment some other way. By cab, if he could find one. Not many cabs roamed the streets in a college town. Still, the address was close to campus. He could walk. Well, run, actually.

A half hour later, he hadn’t spotted anything yellow except an old cat, and he rounded the corner of the street Riley lived on. He slowed to a walk and took a few deep breaths. Hopefully he wasn’t sweaty. Not that he ought to care. Of course, what he ought to do didn’t seem to count for much.

He looked for the numbers on the row of older, two-story homes that lined the street. Most looked a little run-down. One stood out for the riot of flowers in the beds and bright white paint on all the trim. Sure enough. Number 557. But an old lady sat on the porch in a swing, rocking back and forth. Snow double-checked the number. It was definitely the one the coach had given him. He stood outside the white picket gate. Should he bother her?

“Don’t just stand there, cutie. Come on in.”

Was she talking to him? He took a quick glance over his shoulder.

“Yes, you, young man. You must be here to see Riley.”

Funny how he almost always knew if he liked a person immediately. Her he liked. “Yes, ma’am.” He pushed open the gate and walked up the flower-lined path to the porch.

She cocked her head at him as he stood at the edge of the top step. “Well, good. He needs more nice friends. I’ll bet you’re a smart friend too.”

What did he say to that?

“I’m Eudora Wishus.” She stuck out her hand, and he took it gladly. Her skin felt as thin as tissue, but warm, and her grip let him know she was no frail flower. “Riley lives upstairs. Just go through the front door and straight up the stairs. My apartment is on the left as you go in. Drop by anytime.”

He had to smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Just call me Eudora.”

“I’m Snow. Snowden Reynaldi.”

“Of course you are.”

He didn’t know what to say to that either, so he smiled and walked into the house. As promised, there was a door on his left. Brilliant blue, it featured a picture of a cat with its leg extended saying “Talk to the paw,” and a brass knocker shaped like a bird. The stairs stretched ahead of him, and he climbed briskly. Somehow Mrs. Wishus had sucked some of the fear out of him. If Riley lived in a house with such a charming character, he couldn’t be that scary. Maybe Snow should sit down and ask her why he felt this stupid responsibility for a guy who only cared about stupid football. Oh well. He trudged up the stairs. Still, when he got to the door at the top, his hand paused in midair while he sucked in some oxygen.

The door flew open, and Snow staggered backward toward the staircase. He took a step, and it landed on air.
Oh no.
His arms flailed. A big hand grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, which succeeded in lifting him off his feet. He flew, slammed into Riley’s body, and got wrapped in his arms—which mostly made him think about being hurled through the air by Rog at the frat party. That just made him mad again.

Gasping for breath because he’d hit Riley’s chest with full force, he gazed up into golden eyes that crinkled at the corners as Riley smiled. “Hi. Glad you found me.” Then he laughed, which vibrated Snow in places that really needed the attention but could be very embarrassing if they decided to respond at this moment. He wriggled a little to get his groin out of contact with Riley’s thighs. “Put me down, please.”