…

Scheduled for Friday
by Anton M.

18: Bonding

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Tuesday, January 24 (cont.)

I facepalmed, but it was impossible to resist the mirth in his eyes.

"It's a… sort of… secret language I developed with my parents for when I'm on set, so that I'd have a way to inform them if I feel uncomfortable in a situation but I'm too far to speak to them."

Edward tilted his head, squinting his eyes and observing my face. He paused before he said, "You are easily the most intriguing girl I've met."

It took all my focus not to disintegrate into tiny love particles right in front of him.

Take that, Lauren.

"Nonetheless," he continued. "What does—" He crossed his fingers, making a face. "—that mean?"

"It means," I lowered my voice, "Fuck you."

His gleeful expression tugged at my insides.

"No," he said, as if refusing my answer. "You have your own sign for fuck you with your parents?"

I paused. "Kinda, yeah."

"Are you making this up?"

"No! Why would I do that?"

"Excuse me." Edward straightened his back and took a long, exaggerated breath. "I just discovered my entire life is a lie."

I grinned.

He crossed his arms, eyeing the pasta dish I'd abandoned but nibbled on just enough that the server hadn't taken it away yet, and when he raised his eyes I knew exactly what he was thinking.

"I'm done if you want it. Feel free," I said, pushing my now-lukewarm food in front of him before I caught the eye of a server. "Let me just—"

Edward was already eating when the server walked over. I'd intended to ask for extra utensils, but, not wanting to make Edward feel awkward for using mine, I asked him what he wanted to drink instead. He asked for orange juice, and he practically inhaled the last two thirds of my casserole for the next five minutes before he was done.

I was giddy that he hadn't even noticed he used my utensils.

"Goddamn, do you even chew?"

"Chewing is overrated."

"Yeah, that's why humans never developed teeth."

He laughed before he finished his juice.

"How much was that? I never eat here. I can split with you."

Paccheri al Forno cost over $30, so it was a bit on the expensive side.

"You only prevented that from being wasted," I replied. "Don't worry about it. Do you like tiramisu?"

"Never had it."

"You've never had tiramisu?"

"No," he confirmed. Before he could elaborate, I waved the server over and ordered two. First, to make him taste it, and second, to prolong getting the check and having to vacate the table for others. It wasn't a date, obviously, but he was insanely easy to talk to and I was having fun regardless.

Edward rubbed his neck, giving me an uneasy smile. "Bella, I can't justify—"

"It's on me," I interrupted. "Obviously. Consider it compensation for not paying for gas for your bike."

"Yeah, a feather on my back makes a real difference," he said, nonchalant, totally unaware of what a sweet compliment he was giving me as he paused and searched my face. "Are you rich or something?"

"Totally. In fact, I could buy this restaurant if I wanted to." I grinned my face off. Edward laughed, and I was grateful that he was oblivious to the truth in my words. "Seriously," I continued. "Not a big deal. It's tiramisu. Just take it as a thank you for getting me out of my funk."

He narrowed his eyes. "On one condition."

There was no prouder person than one strapped for cash who didn't want to be a charity case of others, but I'd never realized how annoying it was to be on the other side of the argument.

"Shoot."

"You will not drop out of high school without telling me, and definitely not before you've given me a chance to tutor you in the subjects you struggle in."

I held his gaze. "I can live with that." The server took away the empty casserole dish. I rested my elbow on the table and my chin on my palm, facing him.

"Now, you owe me answers about the acceptable level of awe I'm supposed to express at your International Master title, and also, what is the Lucena position and what does Harry Potter have to do with your win today?"

"Harry Potter?"

"I heard people refer to Snape."

Edward shook his head, grinning. "The Lucena position is a pretty common endgame, rook-and-pawn, and there was apparently a Snape vs Rice game a few decades ago where black used the moves I used today, to win."

"People remember that stuff?"

"You'd be amazed by what chess players can remember."

"Fair enough," I replied. "Does beating a Grandmaster in chess make you a Grandmaster?"

Edward hesitated, squinting at me, and the light in his eyes dimmed. "Bella," he said, quietly. "You don't have to pretend interest in chess just because I made you come here. It's okay."

"Well, put a dagger into my heart and call me Mildred." I poked his arm. "What kind of shitty people are you around who aren't interested in the thing that puts the oomph in your step? Unless, unless I'm annoying you and you're too polite to tell me, which is also fine." I gave him a bittersweet smile. "It's okay."

"No," Edward said sharply, gripping my forearm without thinking. "I'm, I'm not used to it." He let go of my arm, and his voice got softer. "You really want to know?"

"I have a dagger in my heart and my name is Mildred. Of course I want to know."

Edward smiled, motioning for me to continue.

"Okay. So, does beating a Grandmaster in chess make you a Grandmaster?" I repeated.

"No," he replied, still searching my eyes for a hint of boredom. Not finding any, he continued, "It doesn't work like that. Only games organized by the International Chess Federation, FIDE, count for calculating any chess player's ratings, and you add points and lose them as you win or lose against players with different ratings. There's a calculation for it. Candidate Masters have a rating above 2200, FIDE Masters above 2300, International Masters above 2400, and Grandmasters above 2500."

"And how big of a deal is it that you won the—what you said—world championship? Should I just be like, 'oh, cool, cool, you did that,' or should I take out all my notebooks and make you sign as many pages as possible because big money can be made from your autograph?"

Edward's laughter was my new favorite sound.

"The first one. Literally nobody but chess players or your family give a shit until you're Grandmaster, and even then there's the whole discussion around title inflation and all that. I only won the World Youth Chess Championship for boys under 16. There's also a world champion for under 18, under 14, under 12, and so on, and a whole thing for girls, too. Twelve people become world champions in the Youth Chess Championship each year, not even counting all the other world championships, so… I'm really not quite so special when you think about it."

"Being the best in the world in your age group sounds totally unremarkable, yeah," I agreed, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm glad we can agree on how very unspecial you are."

Edward laughed.

"How old were you when you first started to play?"

He licked his lips, and it took everything in me not to react to the goosebumps on my neck when he quietly assessed my face.

"Too many questions?" I asked, feeling sheepish. "Sorry."

"Not at all," he said, quietly. "It's a nice change." He rested his chin on his crossed arms, eyes sparkling with some kind of hidden discovery. "I was four. Gramps always played a lot with his friends, and I demanded to be a part of their game. He said it was an adult game, not interesting enough for pre-schoolers, and I was… determined to prove him wrong. Not sure I ever stopped proving him wrong."

Enjoying the light in his eyes, I grinned.

"So you won two years ago, right? What happened last year?"

"The SATs," he replied, accepting my interrogation. "Maybe I could've done both but I wanted to give SATs my all. Had a long discussion about it with my parents but they agreed. I can always return to competitive chess but it's harder to be in this same stage in my life with all the means to ace SATs and not just rely on becoming the next Magnus Carlsen. I'm not sure I want that, anyway. Ken Regan's career sounds more enticing than Carlsen's, not his field but… something to fall back on."

I was floored by his words. I didn't have a clue as to whom he was talking about, but I'd always thought Edward and I didn't have much in common beyond growing up in a trailer park.

"So I know it's not the same," I began with a hesitant smile, knowing that this comparison might've been a stretch. "I'm no chess wizard, I don't get bored in college-prep STEM classes, but… you're essentially describing my current dilemma in reverse."

Edward flipped his chair back into its normal position just as our tiramisus arrived, and we gave our absent-minded thanks to the server before Edward pushed his plate away from him and turned on his chair. He lifted his ankle on his knee, leaning forward, tilting his head up, looking all wide-shouldered and handsome and so very close to me.

"Why in reverse?" he asked quietly. The thrilling, eerie focus of his green eyes covered me in tingles, and it was easy to imagine that we were on a date.

I wished we'd met earlier, years earlier, so that he would've known me well enough to guess the things Alice had began to guess without me revealing anything.

"Because I'm not really good at school," I saved, giving him the half-truth I was allowed to. "Not like you. Never have been. And, my role in the series, it's relatively small but… but it is a once in a lifetime opportunity, as stupid as those words sound, and it will open doors for me. My problem is that… I can't catch a break, having school the way I do. Last spring, summer, fall, Christmas break—I was working 40 hours a week the moment I was allowed to, every break, and I know that adults go to work like this all the time but it's really fucking hard sometimes to make it home at eleven and put extra focus into my homework while also performing my best on set."

Edward brushed his lips against the back of his knuckles, back and forth, and I squirmed a bit in his gaze. Maybe my comparison couldn't stand the scrutiny of a chess savant and I had silly problems compared to him.

"Sorry," I whispered, tearing my eyes from his and scooting my tiramisu closer. "Ignore me. Didn't mean to dump all of my fake problems on you."

"Bella—no." Edward gripped my wrist to catch my attention. "There's nothing fake about your problems." He let go of my wrist when he caught my eye. "It sounds like you're close to burning out. That's not a small thing. Have you calculated how much your GPA changed since you started shooting? How big is the difference? Do you have a tutor on set, and do you prefer your tutor or school?"

"I do have a tutor on set, but never thought about the other stuff."

"Well, if it's not too personal, I can calculate your GPA difference. And, did it get better or worse during corona? What's your style of studying? How do you best retain information?"

"I… don't know," I replied, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry."

"No reason to be sorry," he replied, calmly. "Most people never learn to learn. I'm not… I don't really know how to do this but I'm not the worst tutor, and I'd like to help you figure it out without you having to drop out. I can see how we've had a similar choice—where to put the most of your focus—but just because a different answer makes sense to you doesn't mean your education has to be an all-or-nothing choice."

I could've sat in his lap and hugged him.

Why couldn't Edward have been single and interested in me? He was so intelligent, intimidatingly so, asking questions I'd never asked from angles I'd never thought about. I wanted to lie on a mountainside under the stars next to him and listen to him talk all night, forever.

"I would like that," I replied, quietly.

He gave me a gentle, encouraging smile, one that lifted me up and twisted my heart into a knot that was in danger of bursting. Ignoring the signals he didn't intend to send me, I scooted his tiramisu in front of him.

His eyes snapped on my face when he wrapped his lips around his spoon.

"Well, that's not fair," he said, pulling the spoon out of his mouth and pointing it at me. "You can't make me like an expensive dessert like this. How will I ever have money left for gas?"

"You learn to make it, of course," I replied, grinning. "And then you invite me over to test it."

He got a twinkle in his eye as he stifled his smile, and I was only on my third bite when he'd already shoveled the rest of the cake in his mouth.

"Seriously. Why do you even have teeth at this point?"

He grinned and tilted his head to see my face. Gently, he asked, "Do you want to learn to play?"

I could tell by the look in his eyes that he expected me to decline, but I didn't think he hoped for it.

"I'd love to," I replied, but I also pointed sheepishly at my cake.

"Take it with you," he said, already gathering my backpack and grabbing a chess table that just emptied. "Snacks and desserts are fine. Just take the table number."

Sitting opposite him, I wrapped my arms around my knees, observing him as he set up the chess board, and it was impossible to remain unmoved by his sparkling eyes as he explained where the pieces went and how they moved. I couldn't believe Lauren had turned down spending twinkle-eyed time with her boyfriend, but I didn't allow the thought to linger. The only reason Edward invited me in the first place was because she'd declined, and I couldn't be upset at that.

Edward and I played a few quick mock games, just so I could better understand the dynamics of the game until he deemed me fit enough to try a real game, with a real attempt at winning. I'd just gleefully put his bishop under fire with my pawn as my fourth move when Edward touched the tip of his bishop with his index finger.

"What?"

"You do that—" he paused, flicking away my pawn just diagonally of my king. "I'll do that, and bam, check mate. What do you do?"

"Cry under the table."

Edward laughed.

A throat was cleared above us. Edward jumped at the sound, and Edward's grandpa wheezed with silent laughter as he pulled a chair to our side and eyed us, back and forth, like he had a secret. I squirmed under his gaze.

"No mercy, huh?"

"None," I replied. "But I have a plan now. You're about to witness the downfall of a world champion."

Edward's eyes twinkled with mirth. "Oh yeah?"

"This opening shall forever be known as Bella's gambit."

Edward tried his hardest to stifle his disbelieving smile. "Bella's gambit?"

"Precisely," I said, gathering all the pieces back to their original places and taking the white. "All you have to do, is… drumroll, please…"

Edward's grandfather tapped the edge of the table with the pads of his palms, and I gave him a winning smile.

"…lose as quickly as possible. Go."

Edward blinked, huffing a laugh. "What?"

"Your only purpose now is to lose to me in less than twelve moves. Go. I don't have all night, you know."

I lifted my pawn to the centre, ignoring the intensity in his gaze as he observed my face, and when I looked back up, he had this beautiful secret light in his eyes that set my skin on fire.

"Bella's gambit," he said, quietly, and there was something special about the way his low voice wrapped around my name. "All right."

Because I was a strong independent woman who don't need no help from a world champion, he definitely didn't give me hints as to how to beat him quickest, and when I rode my knight to D5 and checkmated his king as my seventh move, I swung my arms in the air and did a squiggly little happy dance.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a true newcomer among us with the winning opening of Bella's gambit!" I pretended to bow and wipe tears. "I will take your autographs later, thank you. For today, construction is needed to reinforce the foundation of this restaurant to withstand my massive, massive brain."

Edward's eyes were full of mirth, the corner of his lips curved upwards with this almost disbelieving awe on his face, and Edward Senior looked at him like he knew something, but I was too happy in my little world to interpret their silent conversation.

"Now—" I opened the camera from my locked screen, backing away to show the chess board together with Edward face. "Look very sad now. Lost. Defeated. Your career is over and you are devastated."

I could've wrapped myself in Edward's cute, disbelieving smile. "Did you just do all this so that you could take a photo of me losing to you?"

"Absolutely," I replied, unashamed. "Bella's gambit. When you're a Grandmaster who's beaten the current world leader, I will emerge from the shadows and show this to everyone to prove my superior intelligence."

Edward laughed.

"No, no, no," I argued. "Make a real sad face. Like this." I relaxed my face, slouching, pulling my lower lip in my mouth as I immersed myself in walking in on him and Lauren in the morning and looked at him with a hint of tears shimmering in my eyes.

"That is creepy," Edward replied, straightening. "Don't do that."

"You should be an actress," Edward's gramps said, squeezing my heart with his compliment.

"She is." Edward stifled his smile. "A good one, apparently."

Edward Senior asked me lots of questions about my current role and what it was like to be on set, which celebrities I'd met, and I was touched that he cared enough to ask. But I still hadn't gotten my sad photo of Edward, so when Senior ran out of questions, I lifted my phone and pointed at Edward with my finger.

"Sad," I demanded. "Be sad now. Very sad."

Edward was a miserable actor, and I only got a constipated look out of him (and half a dozen laughing photos that I may or may not cherish forever). I put away my phone and spent the next half an hour bantering and joking with Edward and his grandfather. Edward Senior sometimes got that distant, all-knowing, secretive look in his eyes as he silently watched us talk, only sometimes interrupting, and I didn't dare make eye contact with him much because I felt like he saw straight through me, and I didn't want him to reveal my stupid crush on his grandson to his grandson.

It was nine thirty when I paid the server and tipped him generously so that he'd have a reason to find me a table (in the inevitably booked restaurant) next time I visited.

Edward's grandfather, Edward and I walked together to the coats.

"I know where I'm taking my first boyfriend on a date," I said, reluctant to leave. My belly was full and heart bittersweet but as happy as it was going to get.

Edward gave me this unguarded, sharp look, almost like he was in pain, and it made me feel like I'd said something wrong. I squeezed his elbow.

"Relax." I gave him my best smile. "I'll coordinate with you so that Lauren doesn't have to see me."

Stop touching the boy, Bella. What's wrong with you?

Friends touched each other all the time, right? Regardless, I let go of his elbow, not making a big deal out of it, but I caught Edward Senior's eye and felt as see-through as ever.

Good actress my ass.

It wasn't that I couldn't put all my efforts into convincing Edward's grandfather that I was just a friend, it was that I was too tired to put in the energy and truly care whether he figured me out or not.

Edward's grandpa found Edward's grey jacket. They switched when Edward found Senior's dark red puffer, but my white coat was nowhere to be found, and when the second row of coat-hangers on the other side of the restaurant gave us the same result and we invited one of the servers to help us, it was time to admit the inevitable.

My coat had been stolen.

When my server Elio found out and did his own search, he almost cried, probably convinced I'd yell at them and demand my tip back, but I just felt beaten. Getting my one and only true splurge, a Courreges Heritage brushed-wool coat, taken, felt like karmic revenge for getting to spend a delightful evening swooning over a guy who probably wished Lauren had joined him instead.

I accepted the fate I deserved, and while I described my white coat in marvelous detail to the staff (in case it did turn up), I desperately downplayed the cost of it. Why would a poor fifteen-year-old student own a coat that costs nearly two thousand bucks? They wouldn't.

My poor parents.

The three of us stood in a circle in the hallway as other guests left and arrived. Edward was still facepalming.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he muttered, sighing. "I'm going to owe you a whole wardrobe if we keep hanging out."

I laughed. For some reason, that was a hilarious thought, and I nearly told him 'there's a way to get a girl naked,' but I wasn't sure if that would've been considered flirting. It certainly would've made his gramps uncomfortable.

"I can take you home so that you're not cold," Edward Senior said. "You cannot go on the highway on Edward's bike like this."

"You can't," Edward told his grandfather, giving me an apologetic smile. "Gramps is meeting up with one of his childhood friends on the other side of town. You haven't seen Thomas in, what, fifteen years? You can't, gramps. Not tonight."

Senior pressed his lips together as he removed his puffer jacket. "Very well, then. I'll be in a warm car. Mine is too big for Bella, so you take it, and give the girl your jacket. How about that?"

Edward handed me his jacket before he hesitated and pulled his hoodie over his head. His navy T-shirt rolled up, exposing his happy trail, and I felt hot and cold all over at the sight of all that lean muscle and skin. I'd never seen a guy up close like that, not one I was attracted to, and I felt grateful that Edward Senior had gone to talk to the server because I couldn't stop checking out his grandson.

I snapped out of my daze when Edward shoved his bunched up hoodie in my arms. Ignoring how breathlessly attractive I found him in a T-shirt, all lean, tall body and broad shoulders, I held his hoodie against my stomach.

"You won't be cold?"

"Nah, look at this puffer."

I couldn't stop staring at the way his chest and biceps moved when he put his arms through the puffer jacket's sleeves, but I quickly averted my gaze. I pulled his hoodie over my head, fiddling with the tag to not poke my back, and I felt downright beautiful when his eyes ran over my body. I was drowning in his hoodie. He zipped up his puffer jacket before helping me roll back the giant sleeves, twisting and tugging at my heart with his gentle, permanently stained fingers, but he stopped when our eyes locked. Maybe it was too boyfriend-y, helping with that, but I put his jacket on top of the hoodie, zipped it up, and gave him a grin.

I was high on the scent of his clothes. Maybe getting my fancy expensive coat stolen wasn't such a bad thing after all.

"You both good?" Edward Senior asked, patting Edward on the shoulder.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" I asked.

"I'm fine," he dismissed me. "It's not all that cold if you're not in the highway wind, and I have multiple backup blankets in my car." He held out his hand for me to shake. "Absolute joy to meet you, Bella." Pulling me into a half-hug and squeezing my hand in the handshake of a lifetime, he whispered, "I hope to see you again."

It was so imperceptible I might've missed it but I was sure he winked at me, and Edward narrowed his eyes at us before they hugged. His grandpa left. We gathered our helmets from behind the counter and breathed in the fresh air of the chilly winter night as we exited the restaurant. It felt like a warm, cozy dream behind us, and I caught Edward observing my small frame swallowed up by his big grey jacket. He licked his lips as they lingered on mine.

"You ready?" he asked, and the sheer energy in his eyes gave me wings.

"Lead the way."

…

A/N: Your thoughts mean the world to me. Thank you for your support :)