The Story of us

Chapter 13: Never get a white bra wet

Petersburg, Virginia - 574 miles

"Are you seriously going to move your rook there?"

I craned my head slightly to see Harry frowning at the game board placed a few feet in front of me. We were currently in the midst of playing a rather heated round of chess, a game that I hadn't thought about in years, let alone played. (Seriously—I don't think that I've played a board game in general since I was thirteen.) I had never really understood the concept of the game, most likely because my sisters and I had come up with our own rules and jobs for each of the pieces when we were younger.

Harry, on the other hand, was extremely competitive, something that I had come to learn over the past fifteen minutes that we had been playing, which was why he was currently looking like he was close to killing somebody.

"Yeah, I am," I snapped at him. "Why shouldn't I, huh?"

"Because we're playing on the same team, and by moving that rook, you are essentially sabotaging us and setting us up for failure, that's why!"

I rolled my eyes at his dramatic antics. He really needed to chill out. We were currently sitting in yet another motel room, this time in Virginia–Petersburg, to be exact–and, after a long day that had only been spent driving, Travis had found an old chess board nestled in the back of one of the drawers. Since the game was only meant for two players (obviously), we had decided to split up into teams: Harry and I vs. Travis and Nyla. However, I had regret my decision to be teammates with Harry the minute we had begun to play. He was probably the most competitive person that I had ever met, and I was, well, the complete opposite.

"We're not going to lose," I huffed at him. "And even if we do, who cares?"

Judging by the expression he was currently wearing on his face, that had been the wrong thing to say. Here we go, I thought to myself miserably as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Who cares?" Harry repeated back to me incredulously. "Who cares? For Christ's sake, Lexi, does this even mean anything to you?"

I didn't even have to think about my answer to that one. "Not really," I shrugged. "And it's my turn, so that means that I get to choose what our movement is going to be." And with that, I pushed the little white rook two spaces to the right. Harry stared at me as I had shot to him. He was such a drama queen, honestly.

Travis, who had been struggling to contain his smile while Harry and I had been arguing over my move, finally burst into laughter as he and Nyla exchanged a knowing glance. I was pretty sure that I knew what he was going to say when he hovered his hand over his king piece, but that didn't make matters any less painful when he obnoxiously crowded, "Checkmate." 

Harry fell to the floor dramatically, which caused Nyla to burst into a fit of giggles at his exaggerated antics. "I fucking told you, Lexi!" he moaned, glaring up at me angrily. "If you had just listened to me, we wouldn't have fucking lost!"

I rolled my eyes and gave him a slight shove as I yanked him back up. "For Christ's sake, sit up, and stop being such a sore loser," I scoffed, ignoring Travis and Nyla's celebratory cheers coming from beside us. I knew that those would just make him even more upset.

"Fuck off," Harry snarled at the two of them once he had sat back up again. "If it weren't for Lexi, then I definitely would have beat you twats."

I burst into laughter at his slang and, putting on a terrible British accent and lowering my voice to make it sound as deep as his, I imitated him, "You're such a twat, Travis. Bloody hell, I can't believe you–"

I was cut off by Harry placing his hand over my mouth, and I couldn't keep the blush from spreading through my cheeks as he murmured lowly in my ear, "Shut up, Crazy Girl. That is, by far, the worst attempt at a British accent I've ever heard in my life. And I live in America."