Our eyes meet, the game is between us. We're both assessing. Assessing each other, and assessing our moves. The pieces are strewn across the board, but they're not haphazard. They've been worked to this position over a long period of time.
Her gaze bores into me with a soft intensity, and for a moment I feel I might be lost in their dark allure. But my mind is on the game, and I know that my own eyes are causing her just as much distraction. I smile, and I can't help but wonder if by now she knows I smile because I've got my next move. I shift a piece forward. A smooth, subtle but deftly quick response, and she moves her own. She knew my move before I made it, and played me in. She's done this to me before, and for a moment back there I even thought I'd lost. But the game's still going on, even now, we're still playing. Playing against each other. Playing with each other.
She laughs, just briefly, and for a moment its captivating. In that instant, nothing else is real but her pleasure. We both know the dangers of every move we play, but it keeps us happy. That's what games are all about, and seeing her satisfaction just urges me to continue. I know I could lose at any minute. She showed me that all too well. But that look on her face says 'if you don't quit, I won't either.' She makes me feel like this is anybody's game, it's a dangerous game we play, but the more we play, the more I'm convinced the prize will be worth it. So I make another move.
She ponders the next one for longer. I can read her well by now, but in this silence, in this comfortable awkwardness, she continues to surprise me. So I don't let me guard down. She knows she can break me, at any time. She knows. But she won't, and I have to trust that. I need it. In my mind's eye, I watch her lean across the board, and I know she's teasing me. It's something about the way she moves, the way she looks as she moves, something that entices me like a sweet bait. She makes her move.
This time she gives nothing away. Those deep brown eyes hide her thoughts, a mischievous innocence, her lips don't even twitch. There's cunning behind that innocence. I worry, if just for a second. Has she ended the game? I check the pieces. No. She could have, though, I'm sure of it. I consider our last few moves. In my head is everything she's ever done. She nearly ended this game once before, but she restarted it. She could have beaten me then, and she could have beaten me now. What is she waiting for? Now it is her that smiles, and I have a dawning realisation, and a part of me melts at her voice.
"Your move."
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