Sometimes you find love where you least expect it...

Tess refuses to tag along with her best friend Zander
​and his date to the winter formal.

He can’t understand her reluctance.

What he doesn’t realize is her feelings for him might not be as platonic as they once were.

After Checkmate is a companion novella prequel
to The Next to Last Mistake.

---

Chapter one
WEDNESDAY 

       When you see a good move, look for a better one.
      If you’re playing chess, Emanuel Lasker’s advice about looking for the next best thing is pretty good advice. When it comes to friends, though, I don’t think the same rule applies. In fact, when you find a good friend, it’s best to ride or die with that person for as long as you can because real friends are hard to come by and you never know when another one will come along.
       For me, that person is my next-door neighbor, Zander Roberts.
      The two of us have been playing chess together on Wednesday nights for almost seven years. On my way across the field to his house tonight, the remains of last week’s snow crunch beneath my boots as I maneuver along the uneven earth, avoiding the ruts and vestiges of last season’s corn stalks. The light in his bedroom window comes into view as I pass the bur oak, marking the property line between our farms. I follow it like a beacon across the field, the tension in my shoulders releasing with every step. He knows I’m on my way—we haven’t missed a Wednesday night match together since he had the flu in eighth grade. I smile, thinking about how he fell asleep that night, snoring into the receiver when we tried to play over the phone instead.
      As I approach the Roberts’ largest cow pasture, Zander’s bedroom light goes out, and I imagine him taking the steps two at a time down to the kitchen where he’ll set up our board at the table. He’s been gloating all day about his narrow defeat over me last week so I have no intention of letting him win again tonight. Around the corner of the milking parlor, I notice Zander’s dad hunched over the chassis of a nearby tractor. The sound of my feet on the gravel drive startles him from his work.
       “Evening, Tess,” he calls, waving a lug wrench in my direction.
       “Hey,” I call back.
       “Gonna beat him tonight?” he asks.
       I step into the glow of the porch light and shrug. “Yes, sir. I’m gonna try.”
       He chuckles to himself, like he knows something I don’t. “I’m sure you will. And hey, Nancy’s baking brownies for you and Z. Save me one, huh?”
       I promise him I will and let myself into the kitchen through the back door, the sweet aroma of chocolate floating past me into the night air as I stomp snow off my boots. Inside, Zander’s at the sink beside his mom, drying the last of the dinner dishes.
       He looks up as the door shuts behind me. “Hey. You’re late. Thought you might bail on me since you’re afraid of losing again.” He slides a plate into the cupboard above his head and walks over to take my coat.
       “Last week was a fluke.” I hand him my fleece, and he hangs it on the rack in the mudroom beside his. “You won’t get that lucky a second time.”
      Miss Nancy finishes at the sink and excuses herself into the family room to watch the evening news. “Don’t forget to pull out those brownies when the timer goes off,” she calls over her shoulder.
      As expected, the chessboard is set up and ready to go on the table. “Heads or tails?” Zander asks, pulling a quarter from his pocket.
       “Tails,” I say. He flips the coin, and I throw him a smug grin when I win the toss. “I’ll take white.”
       He groans, sitting at the table across from me before turning the board to take possession of the black pieces. He knows going first puts me at a decided advantage—a fact he’ll probably use as an excuse if I end up beating him tonight.
       “Did you finish that bio assignment?” he asks, diverting my attention as I contemplate my opening moves.
       “Yeah. You?” I move my first pawn to the center of the board. I will not let him distract me with boring homework talk.
     He fiddles with his knight before sliding his pawn to the square across from mine. “Yeah. And that stupid English essay for Monday, too.”
       “Same,” I say. There’s no need to overthink my next move, so I quickly push my knight into position behind my pawn. When I look up from the board, however, Zander’s smiling like I’ve played into one of his traps.
       “Oh, good. So, if we’re both already done, wanna go shopping for a new tie with me Friday night?”
       I was prepared for him to sabotage me with his pieces, not a shopping invitation.
       And a tie?
       Now I am distracted.
       He places his pawn across from my knight as I try to figure out why in God’s name he needs a new tie.
      “I’m not going with you all the way to Des Moines,” I say. “There’s too much going on with the herd. Dad thinks we have a calf with pneumonia, and I’m on antibiotic duty.”
     The timer goes off, and Zander’s chair creaks beneath him as he stands. “That’s fine. We can just go to Mason City. I should be able to find a silver tie in one of the stores there, don’t you think?”
      He pulls on a mitt, takes the brownies from the oven, and as he test the firmness of the center with a toothpick, I realize what all this is about.
       The stupid winter formal.
       “Gabby’s wearing silver, huh?” I ask. I can’t believe I’m getting roped into tie shopping for a dance I’m not even attending.
     “Yeah. I asked if I could wear blue instead because I’ve got a bunch of those, but no. She wants silver.” He rolls his eyes and something stirs inside me.
      Without thinking much about it, I capture his pawn with my knight. The game seems far less important than it was ten minutes ago. “I can ask my dad if he has a silver one. Then you won’t need to go out at all.”
       He shakes his head, returning to his spot at the table while the brownies cool. “Nah. That’s okay. Thought I’d grab her a Christmas present while I was there, too. Save myself a trip and all that.”
       He studies the board while I struggle against the wave of insecurity washing over me. The undertow threatens to take me down, dragging me beyond the breakers, and I’m drowning in all the whys and what ifs.
       And then I remind myself, being Zander’s best friend is enough.
      He takes his turn, capturing my knight, and peeks up at me through his lashes. “So, what do you say? Will you come with me? I could really use your help picking something out for her. I have no idea what she likes. Perfume? Jewelry? A new sweater?” He shakes his head. “I tried asking her, and she was all like ‘if you have to ask, you’re not a good boyfriend,’ so…”
       I shrug.
       He sighs, long and hard, his shoulders sagging. “Please?”
      I move my queen, putting his king in check. It feels symbolic, taking the upper hand, but I know he’ll wiggle out of it. He always does.
      “Fine. I’ll come with you,” I say. “I still need to get something for my mom anyway. And I’ll help you choose a tie, but don’t expect me to pick out a Christmas present for your girlfriend. I don’t know the first thing about what she might want.” The only thing I know about her is the way her birdlike giggle makes me feel like less of a girl every time she laughs at something Zander says. I don’t even know if she has her ears pierced.
      “Thanks, Tess. I owe you.” He moves his king forward a square. It’s out of my queen’s range, but it’s a stupid move, and I wonder if he’s decided to let me win or if his preoccupation with all this dance nonsense is destroying his concentration.
       Neither is acceptable.
      “And hey,” he continues while I study the board, “as long as we’re out shopping, you could always look for a dress. I know you already said you’re not going, but it’s gonna suck not having you there.” He scratches the back of his head the way he does when he’s trying to act nonchalant. “I heard there’re still plenty of tickets available.”
       I don’t trust myself to look at him, so I leave my eyes locked on the board. He knows how I feel about the dance. He knows I don’t have a boyfriend and wouldn’t dream of going alone. He also knows I hate tagging along as a third wheel.
       I slide my queen to the center of the board, capturing his pawn and putting his king back in check. “How about if you cut us a couple of those brownies, huh?”
       He doesn’t budge. “Tess? Say you’ll come along.”
      Behind me, the kitchen door bursts open, and a cold gust follows Zander’s dad into the house. “It’s freezing out there,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “Hope those brownies are still warm.”
       Across the board, Zander and I stare each other down while his dad shrugs out of his coat. If I don’t agree to go to the dance, he won’t cut the brownies. He always pulls crap like this.
       I push back from the table.
      “Let me get those,” I say, more firmly than I intended. There are plastic knives in the drawer closest to the sink. I pull one out, then cut and distribute the brownies.
       Of course, I give Zander the corner piece. He loves the edges best.
       “Thanks,” his dad says through his first bite, stepping out of the kitchen. “And don’t you dare let him win.”
       I assure him I won’t, and once he leaves, Zander and I eat our brownies together in silence. He takes his turn, I take mine, and we continue on like this without speaking until nothing but crumbs remain on our napkins.
       “I’m gonna miss you if you don’t come along,” he says at last, nudging my foot under the table.
       I glance up at him. “Don’t come shopping or to the dance?”
       “Both.” He sounds sincere, all pouty lips and puppy-dog eyes. It’s almost enough to make me cave.
       Then his phone rings in his pocket.
       “Oh, God.” He glances at the digital clock on the microwave then back to me. His shoulders sag under the weight of obligation.           “You know I have to take this.”
       “Or you could shoot her a quick text to let her know you’re busy and will call her back later.”
     He leans forward, fishing the phone from his back pocket. “You know how she gets. She just wants to talk, and it’s not worth pissing her off.”
       It takes less than a second to process the terrible realization that what he really means is: ‘finishing this game here with you isn’t worth pissing her off so I’ll piss you off instead because I know you won’t stay mad for long.’ Somehow, this snub feels like betrayal, and I swallow back the lump that’s taken up unexpected residence in my throat.
       He answers the call, and I cross the kitchen to the mudroom for my coat, my heart sinking a little at the way his voice bubbles when he says her name.
       “Hey, Gabby. What’s up?”
       He’s listening to her now, but also watching me slip on my boots and coat. I don’t want to turn back as I reach for the door, but I can’t stop myself. He throws me an apologetic look and mouths the words ‘sorry’ and ‘see you tomorrow,’ hoping to smooth things over.
       But it doesn’t work. I don’t even make it to the bur oak before bursting into tears.
       Who knew sharing my best friend with another girl would be so hard?