Bloodcurse

Good Luck

"Max."

His hand hovers above the board.

I cock my head sideways, glaring at Max through narrowed eyes. "Don't," I warn as he lowers his hand to the queen. "I swear to God, if you-"

He picks her up and swiftly kicks my king off the chessboard, the muscles in his expressionless face not moving an inch. "Checkmate."

Groaning, I collect the fallen piece from the floor and place it on the table. "How many was that now?"

"Thirty-seven," he states monotonously. "You are immune to improvement, it seems."

"How am I supposed to learn anything if you keep mopping the floor with me every time?!"

Max arches one of his brows that is barely visible behind his long, loose bangs. "You learn by watching what I do and implementing it into your own game. I thought that was clear."

It's impossible to keep a grimace off my face. "It's really difficult to keep up with you."

He sighs, aligning the chess pieces in an orderly fashion on the board. "Are we going to make it an even forty, or shall I stop embarrassing you?"

"Oh, now you've done it. Bring it on, asshat."

He cleanly and efficiently disembowels me on the board another two times before I throw myself back into the armchair with a sharp exhale, tempted to flip the board and shower my pompous roommate in black and white figurines.

"Check-"

"I know it's checkmate, Max, you don't have to remind me."

Max hesitates for a moment. "Mate."

"You are so petty."

He shrugs, stowing the game away neatly into the wooden box it came in. "The rules dictate that I let my opponent know when he's lost the game."

"Yeah, and etiquette dictates you don't yeet my king off the board every goddamn time."

His mouth twists into a small smile. "Correct. Etiquette, however, is not mandatory to the game's course."

Rolling my eyes, I hand him the last piece - my dethroned king - before getting up from my comfy seat. The dorm building's common room reminds me of a whiskey and cigar lounge, only without the whiskey and cigars. There are leather chairs and sofas, plush carpets, an assortment of games ranging from darts to a mahogany pool table, and countless high-end board games that don't come in cardboard boxes but in intricately carved wooden ones that look at least a century old.

Admittedly, it was my idea to come here. Sundays at Coolidge can feel like an endless loop of boredom, and since Max has been especially quiet and reserved these past few weeks, I thought some time in the common room would help lighten his mood.

Well, I wasn't exactly wrong. His mood has definitely somewhat improved - at my expense. It seems no matter how much I try, he can come up with fifty more creative ways to make me look like an idiot each time we play.

"Okay," I say when Max comes back from putting away the chessboard. "What about darts? Have you ever played?"

Max frowns at me. "No."

I smile widely, clasping my hands together in front of me. "Excellent! I'll teach you"

"That seems dangerous."

"Oh, don't be a spoilsport. I'm good at darts, my foster family used to have a dartboard in their garage, and I practiced in there all the time."

His frown deepens for a second before he nods. "Fine. Show me, then."