Driven Snow (6 page)

The professor gave him a startled glance. “Uh, yes. I’m sure it seems that way. But when it’s right, it’s right.” Bishop to g6.

Snow swallowed. Obviously the professor saw nothing strange about the woman. Snow pushed back from the table. “I know this game.”

“Yes, Kasparov’s Grandmaster game. I thought I might be able to fool you. But you’re way ahead, as always.”

Maybe his feelings were just jealousy? “Are you going to coach Ms. Popescu?”

“Yes, after the tournament. I thought you might like to help. She could benefit from your intuition. She’s such a logical player.”

“So she’s not entering the Anderson Tournament?”

The professor shook his head. “She has the rating, but I’ve told her she’s not ready.”

“How can she be rated and yet we’ve never played?”

“I will confess, she’s played in many obscure and lower-level tournaments. That’s kept her below the radar. Quite a clever strategy, really, but that’s also why she’s not prepared for the Anderson. Never really been tested.”

“Does she agree with you? About not being ready?”

He smiled tightly. “No. But she’ll do as I say.”

Snow felt his hand tremble, and he stuck it in his lap. Why did he feel this way about a woman the professor clearly loved? “That’s good, I guess.”

The professor grasped his arm with a warm hand. “Don’t worry. Nothing will change in our relationship. Anitra will learn to love you as much as I do, and you’ll just have another mentor.”

Snow turned up his lips, but it was hard.

The professor’s hand tightened. “Confession time. Don’t you have just a teeny crush on the football hero?”

He blew out his breath. “That would be stupid. He’s straight.”

“We don’t always want who and what we should.”

Snow shrugged.

“Does Winston know?”

He gave in to the frown. “Professor, I know you’d like Winston and me to pair up, but it’s not realistic. I don’t feel that way about him. It would be very convenient if I did.”

“I understand. I just don’t want you to be lonely. I know how painful that can be. Not having any family is hard for a young man.”

“I’m not lonely—”
Not exactly.
“And you’ve always been like family to me.”

“Yes, but I see you getting these romantic fantasies, and I worry. We need to find you a realistic partner. After all, you’re almost twenty-one. Life should be about more than chess moves.” He smiled goofily. “I’ve found that out for myself.”

Snow’s stomach twisted.

The professor rocked back in his chair. “Let’s try one more game, and then I want to get home. I’m meeting Anitra for a late cocktail.” He started setting up the board.

Forty-five minutes later, Snow walked down the tree-lined street to his apartment—the place he’d inherited from his parents. He would have rather had the family. He sighed. At least it was a place to sleep and practice chess. In the entry, he checked the mail. Flyers for chess magazines, a few fan letters—most went to his post office box—and two invitations to tournaments. Most of those went directly to the professor.

He climbed the stairs to the top floor like at Riley’s place, but there the resemblance stopped. This building was all stainless and glass, shiny, new, and cold. No worn, friendly carpet or worn, friendly landlady. His family’s trust owned the building, which meant he’d own it once he turned twenty-one.

He tossed the mail trash on the table inside the front door and walked over to sit in the rocker he kept by the huge front picture window. He might not like the inside of the place, but he loved the view—well, usually. Now, dark storm clouds roiled over the treetops and blocked the far-off vistas he usually enjoyed. A rumble vibrated the window glass. Yeah, just the way he felt. Why couldn’t he get over the terrible fear? He’d always trusted Professor Kingsley, respected his judgment. Why not now?

He dropped his head in his hands as a flash burst across the sky and vibrated—in his pocket.

Wait, that was his phone. He grabbed for it, glanced, gasped, and clicked all in one move. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi, Snow.” The smile in Riley’s voice warmed the phone.

“Hi.”

He chuckled. “You told me to call, remember?”

“Oh yes.” He’d said text, but this was better.

“I’m so sorry we got interrupted. When can we get together again?”

Just tell him no. Say no.
“Uh, tomorrow?”

“Great. Perfect. I worked on some more formulas, and I think I got them right. I’m really excited for you to see them.”

“Oh. Sure. Me too.”

“How about I come to your place this time?”

“My place?” He swallowed hard.

“Yeah, you said you have an apartment. That way you don’t have to get all the way over to my house.”

Snow glanced around frantically. “I guess so—”

“I don’t mean to impose. I just thought, you know, if I come to your place, maybe that way we wouldn’t be interrupted again.”

A soft stream of breath rushed out of Snow’s mouth. “Oh yes, that would be good.”

“Great. Text me the address, okay?”

“Okay.”

“What if I bring some food and we eat while we study? I mean, I know how much I’m putting you out, and at least you wouldn’t miss dinner.”

“That, uh, that would be good too.”

“Great. See you tomorrow.”

“See you.” He hung up and texted the address before his hands started shaking so hard he couldn’t find the keys. He looked again at the vast open space that was his apartment. Where could he buy furniture and dishes in one day?

ANITRA SET
the green apple martini next to Harold’s seat in his most comfortable recliner. The chair was as old and worn as the man. “Enjoy, darling.”

He picked it up and sipped between his smiling lips. “Ah. You’re so good to me. I’ve been looking forward to our time together all day.”

“We could have had so much more time.” She oozed onto his lap.

He took one more sip and set down the glass, then wrapped his arms around her. “We both have our responsibilities. Let’s not discuss it.”

“Of course, dear.” She kissed his cheek and wriggled her butt against his lap. Bingo. His erection poked up between her legs. She suppressed a shudder. His arms tightened, and he pressed the bulge harder against her thighs. She wriggled a little more, then slid off his lap to the footstool. He sighed, and she smiled.
Suffer.
She handed him his glass.

He sipped. “Aren’t you having one?”

“Yes, mine’s over there.” She pointed to the end table opposite.

He held out his glass. “Here. I can share.”

“Oh no.” She stood quickly and crossed to her own drink. “You’ve had a hard day and earned every mouthful.” She sat and sipped her own drink. “I need to go soon. Early day tomorrow.”

“I suppose you must. I’m pretty tired too.”

“I’m sure.” She glanced up. “Between teaching, coaching, and all your administrative duties, I don’t know how you do it.” His eyes drifted closed, and she smiled. “I’d best go, dear. See you tomorrow.”

She let herself out and drove to her place in record time. To hell with the campus cops. She pulled up into her garage, rushed in the back door, and walked straight to the living room, where she could hear the TV.

Hunter sat facing her in the easy chair, his huge cock erect in his lap, the sounds of porn playing on the TV across from him. With a curve of his lips and a long stroke of his dick, he welcomed her. “Hi, baby. Just keeping it warm for you.”

SNOW POINTED
toward the wide back wall of the bedroom. “Put it there, please.”

The two burly deliverymen hauled a bedframe in, then went back for the mattress. Snow leaned against the wall.

What the hell are you thinking? That you’re going to need this thing?

No. It just looks weird for a grown-up to sleep on the floor.

You’ve been doing it most of your life.

Maybe it’s time I stopped.

Dreamer.

Bitch.

“Is that okay, sir?”

“What? Oh yes. Fine, thank you. Put those two tables on either side, and we’re done in here.” Snow glanced at his phone. Just enough time to make the bed and wash the set of brand-new dishes so they didn’t catch something lethal.

A half hour later, he signed the delivery papers and handed a tip to the two men.

“Thanks a lot. You just get married or something? Man, I never saw a dude get so much furniture at once. And not even a Foosball table.” He grinned.

“Oh, should I have one of those?”

“No. Most girls don’t like it. But you could use a TV.”

“Damn, I forgot.”

“That’s usually the first thing a guy gets.” The man grinned and handed Snow the receipt.

“I guess so, but I play chess. No time for TV.”

“Hey, jeez, I thought you looked familiar. You’re that chess champion. Good luck in the big game. Hey, George, this here’s that chess guy. Snow, right?”

Snow smiled. “Yes. Thank you. And I’ll remember about the TV in the future.”

The man held up a big, callused hand. “Hey, no way. I wouldn’t want to be the one to get you hooked on football or porn or something and make you lose your edge.”

Snow laughed. No use saying he was already hooked on football.

When the deliverymen left, he made the bed really quick with the sheets and the “bed in a bag” thing he got at the department store. Could he sleep on that? He sat on the edge. Felt really cushy, even though he’d asked for a hard mattress.

He took a fast shower, then looked at his clothes. Five pairs of khakis did not a wardrobe make. Oh well, who the hell would notice? At least he had that nice silver-gray sweater the professor had given him. Everyone said it made his dark eyes pop.

Dreamer.

Bitch.

He wiped off the brand-new table with the brand-new dishcloth, and set it with some brand-new flatware. At least the rug under his feet had been there longer than a few hours. The rug, the rocker, and the table inside the door had constituted his entire interior landscape until today. Even his multiple chess sets lay on the floor.

Man, had his lawyer been surprised when he asked for five thousand dollars. He’d never used anything beyond his food allowance since he started school three years before.

Dreamer.

Bitch.

He sat on the floor and stared at the chess set. One of his many games in progress.
Think of an original move.

Nothing.

He interferes with your concentration. He’s bad for you.

Go fuck yourself.

Yeah, because that’s the only person who’s going to fuck you.

CHAPTER 6

THE KNOCK
on the door sounded like an answer to a prophecy. Snow looked around.
A lot of work for a lot of silliness.
Teach him physics and let it go.

He opened the door and nodded at Riley. The guy smiled from ear to perfect, shell-like ear. Snow stepped back. “Hi. Welcome.”

Riley walked into the apartment carrying two large white bags. “Hey, it smells new in here.”

Yeah, stupid and silly newness.
“I got a new couch.”

“It’s really nice.”

“Thanks.”

“I brought Chinese. Maybe we can work a little and then heat everything up in the microwave.”

Oh crap, did he have a microwave? “Uh, sure.” Probably most kitchens had one, right?

Riley pointed in the general direction of the kitchen. “I’ll just put it in there, okay?”

“Okay.”

Watching Riley walk across the rug to the kitchen was like observing a perfect chess match or listening to Bach—everything worked together. He moved with a relaxed efficiency that made him a star on the football field and an excuse for grown men turning gay. Not that Snow needed any turning.

Don’t look. You could turn into a unicorn or something.
Snow stared at his feet.

“Where shall we work?” Riley stood in front of him, smiling, holding his notebooks.

Since he’d bought a new table and chairs just so they’d have a place to sit, Snow nodded toward the dining area, where he’d had the movers put the set.

“Great.” Riley walked from the kitchen and dropped the random pages Snow had left for him on the table. He cocked his head and fingered the delivery tag still attached to the chair.

Well, damn.

“Looks like you did some serious shopping. Nice stuff too.”

“Thanks.”

“You must not be a starving student like some of us.” Riley laughed.

“My parents left me some money.”

“Left?”

“Yes. They died when I was little. My grandmother raised me.” Snow moved the carefully laid flatware aside and sat in one of the new chairs. Felt kind of weird.

“I’m really sorry.”

He shrugged. “I barely knew them. I miss my grandmother a lot. She was pretty eccentric, but I loved her.”

“Shit. That means you’ve got nobody?”

“No. I mean, the professor is kind of like family.” Snow didn’t mention the voice in his head.

“Kingsley?”

“Yes.”

“He seems nice.”

Snow nodded.

“I’m really sorry for your loss.” Riley gently rested his hand on Snow’s arm. It should have been so light Snow could barely feel it, but every blood vessel in his body sent its full complement of cells rushing to that one small touch. Snow’s whole being wanted to curl up around those fingers.

He swallowed. “Thank you.” He stared at the spot where their skin connected. If he never moved again, could he just stay here and feel like this?

Suddenly the hand and the warmth vanished. “So, let me show you what I did.”

Sigh.
“Okay.”

“Honest to God, I never thought this stuff would make sense to me, but when you related it to something I understand so well, it just clicked, you know?”

“I’m so glad.” Did he dare put his hand on Riley’s arm? No chance. Instead he flipped through the pages Riley had done on his own. “This is good. You really are getting it.”