So Maybe I Want A Bad Boy!

Harley

"Checkmate." He said, bored, his hand already on his bag, ready to leave. More like bolt—like I was some plague he wanted to avoid. And he did. The chair didn't even make a sound as he stood, neatly tucking it into the desk before walking away without looking back.

"H-Hey, wait!" My voice squeaked as I called out, still processing how I had ended up losing to him—the sponsored kid. How could it be?

I wasn't prejudiced, nor had my parents ever taught me to judge. In fact, they had raised me to do the opposite—to greet every single one of my high schoolmates with a smile. Clad Storm, the rumored loner, was no exception. Yet, somehow, this loss to him stung.

He stopped, his hand barely gripping the doorknob. Awkwardly, I moved from my chair, my long skirt swirling as I approached him. A stray strand of hair tickled my face, and with a frustrated sigh, I pushed it back. Nothing was going right—certainly not my hair, and definitely not this game.

"The chess instructor said we should practice at least five times and get to know one another." I tried to sound composed, smiling the way my mother loved.

Clad scoffed. "Why would I do that?" He pushed the door open to the chess room—the sanctuary I had fallen for. The same room where I had been top champion for three consecutive years until he transferred here and took my title.

"Because," I countered, "as much as we might meet in the finals, we're still teammates. We should be civil and learn from each other. Besides, the teacher said so."

He narrowed his eyes.

"Five times, no less. Otherwise, don't bother leaving this room, because if you do, I'll know. Tomorrow, I'll be testing your progress." The instructor's words from before rang clear in my mind. And I reminded Clad. 

"Tch, you're really a teacher's pet," he muttered.

"Excuse me?" I asked, more offended than I should have been.

He turned then, his chocolate-brown eyes locking onto mine. "I said I won't do it. Besides, I can't practice with someone this horrible."

He turned away, and instinctively, I grabbed his blazer. "W-What do you mean by that? I'm not horrible!" My frustration was obvious.

He paused. "You're so nervous you sweat all over the board. It's easy to predict your next move. No wonder you've only managed to be in the top ten despite being at the number one school." His words were blunt, pulling no punches.

Tears threatened to spill. I knew I had a problem with nerves, but I was working on it. The last game had been close. If only I could keep myself steady...

I clenched my fists. Please don't cry. Not in front of him. Not in front of the newbie.

"God, now she's crying." He sighed. "I was just stating the obvious, okay? The higher you climb in competitions, the more it's not about skill but mindset. Pros target that."

I opened my eyes. He had noticed. How was that possible? He had been here for only a few weeks, yet somehow, he knew me better than the peers I had spent years with.

And just as I started to be in awe, he had to ruin the moment.

"Now let go. You're making my blazer wrinkled and sweaty." He looked down at me, the height difference making his remark all the more condescending.

"Oh—oh, I'm sorry. Here you go." I let go quickly, smoothing out his blazer.

And just like that, he walked away. Again. A habit he seemed to be forming.

Now, I found myself staring at him, watching him smirk while he dangled my purse in his hand playfully. That smirk—it was the same one. Just like back then, when he had said, "Checkmate."

That darn bored look, lazy smirk, everything i fell for.

Darn it. Why did it always feel like he had the upper hand?

And how did my purse get into his hands?

Before I could dwell on it, my phone rang. I pressed the loudspeaker.

"Harley, whatever you do, do not do anything stupid with Clad," Rebecca's voice filled the air. "I know I told you everything. I know you have reason to be mad, but do not—"

"Well, Becky, you are two minutes too late, and what I did to him... oh boy, it backfired on me," I interrupted her.

She was talking about our second bonding time in the bathroom earlier. During my second unfortunate run-in with a stomach bug, I received a text from her, stating that my resume, i had pain stakingly prepared for hours and hours was at Rev X Motorsports and it had been shredded awaiting recycling.She said it was hearsay, so she didn't go into detail—she didn't need to. 

As for the bitter ex thing? That had been purely revenge. But honestly? It hadn't been as satisfying as I'd hoped.