Beth called on the morning of New Year's Eve. You chatted aimlessly about the month you'd had, and about her life back in Lexington.

"It was just me and Jolene this year. It was one of the better Christmas's I've had, to be honest," She said, revealing the sweet smile on her face with her words.

You'd never asked Beth about herself and Jolene, and what the deal was, but you had a feeling it was more than a friendship. Hearing Beth talk about their history at the orphanage where they met, about how Jolene had come to her rescue before she'd flown off to Russia, gave you a warm feeling, similar to the one you got whenever Benny was there for you.

It wasn't your place to pry, and it wasn't like you cared whether it was solely platonic or something more—love was love in your eyes. You didn't harbour the same views that the majority of human society did when it came to who could love who. It didn't sit well with you in the slightest.

"What're your plans for today, then?" She chirped down the phone. Your cheeks immediately flushed at the reminder of Benny's dinner invitation.

"Monte's, obviously. Amanda practically demanded it," You paused, letting out a laugh that trailed away with your thoughts. "Benny and I are having dinner at his place before we meet them there."

When Beth went silent you knew she was grinning. You bobbed your leg anxiously as she readied herself to reply.

"Dinner?" She said playfully. "At his place? Alone?"

"Oh—shove it," You let out immediately. Beth's excited chuckles ran down the phone line. It was enough to make your face transform into a strawberry red.

"Did something happen with him at the cabin?"

"No," You replied almost instantly. You knew she wouldn't buy it, even though it was technically true—besides the odd hand holding, face touching, late at night room calls and emotional breakdowns... "Not really." You corrected.

"What does that mean?" Beth questioned.

"It means—I do not think of Benny Watts in that way. At all."

"You're good at chess, Y/N, not lying."

"Very funny, but I mean it." You said, sternly this time round. Beth only chuckled again.

"Whatever you say, Y/N. But be warned— Benny has a lot of feelings for someone who hardly ever shows them," You listened to her every word as a lump formed in your throat. "If he ever acts off, it's probably because he wants to say something, but doesn't know how to."

"Thanks for the tip," You said quietly, as your voice trailed off for the rest of the call.

As you got ready to go to Benny's, Beth's words replayed over and over in your head. You were going to have dinner with him— alone. There was something that made the ordeal a lot more intimate, with the added factor of Benny cooking you a meal.

It both annoyed you and heightened your nerves. You'd been alone with the champion hundreds of times; why would this be any different?

You mentally slapped yourself in the face. You were a twenty-four-year-old woman, overthinking about dinner plans.

You'd never been good at noticing when someone liked you; more than a friend, that is. You'd always rule it out as you being irrational and taking something the wrong way, when in a lot of cases you'd found it out to be true— whoever it was had, in fact, liked you that way—

And you'd somewhat denied it, without meaning to hurt their feelings.

It was like a defence mechanism. You were so used to people wanting to get close to you because of the position your father held. Even if they couldn't care less about chess, as soon as the words World Champion were uttered, people would always look at you differently.

With Benny being so involved in his world, you'd first thought it was merely out of respect for your father. But after that time in Maude's cabin, a war had been raging between your head and your heart.

Your head was screaming at you that it was nothing— he was simply being friendly. He enjoyed the challenge of facing someone like you at the chess board.

Your heart, however— with every warm feeling that grew inside your chest at something he'd said or done, it fell ever so slightly more for the champion.

You grabbed your tote bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you left your apartment. A small frown stayed stamped to your face as you walked the short distance to Benny's apartment, all the while your heart pounded beneath your ribcage.

You told yourself that this was nothing, too afraid that if you started to believe it was, you'd do something incredibly stupid—

Like fall in love with him.

He'd love that, wouldn't he?

You paused outside the door to his basement, forcing yourself to loosen up and stop acting like a wooden board.

In your mind, you imagined a chess table. On one side you sat, hands in your lap, waiting for the clock to start. On the other sat Benny, elbows on the table, mischievous look on his face—

You couldn't allow yourself to get any closer to him than the distance you sat opposite him at the playing table.

You wouldn't—or you'd at least try to.

You knocked on the door then, and seconds later it opened. Benny's cheeks were flushed, his hair askew, his eyes sending you some kind of plead from within. From inside, a fire alarm began to wail. "Fuck—," Benny said, running back to the main room.

You followed him in, shutting the door on the way, until you rounded the hallway to what laid ahead.

Benny switched off the stove top, wobbling a pan to the sink and dropping it in. He turned on the faucet, drenching whatever he'd been cooking until smoke stopped pouring from the kitchen.

You held back a laugh, knowing that it would be too mean to chuckle at him trying to cook. Benny turned to you, flicking the hair out of his eyes.

"Pizza?"

The two of you sat on the floor, a large pizza box between you. You picked up a slice, taking a huge bite. You never understood the rage about pizza until you'd got to New York. There was a parlour on every block, each claiming to have the best slice the city had to offer. On many a night after Monte's, you'd go to another joint, intent on shoving a huge slice in your mouth.

The fact you were sat on the floor eating boxed pizza made you feel more at ease. If Benny had succeeded in cooking, you would have probably sat at the table opposite each other—it would have felt more like a date, than just two people hanging out.

"Did Beth call you today?" Benny asked abruptly. You almost spat out a wad of mozzarella cheese.

"Why? Did she say she did?" You said, obvious that you were hiding something. Benny sent you a furrowed brow.

"She asked me for your phone number this morning. So, did she call?" He asked it despite knowing the answer was yes from your response.

"Yeah, she did," You let out, trying to compose yourself.

"Okay," Benny huffed out, putting his pizza down and sending you a quizzical stare. "Did you talk about anything?" You placed your own slice down, wiping your mouth with a napkin as you desperately tried to think of a reply. All that came to mind—

"None of your business, Watts."

Benny took a sip of his beer, still eyeing you up. "That just means you talked about me,"

You let out an annoyed huff. "What—like you don't talk about me to her, as well?"

"Of course, I talk about you," Benny said plainly. You almost froze. "Sometimes I can't shut up about you, truthfully."

It was times like these that made you question your judgement. It was things like this, that he revealed as easy as the fact he'd written a damn book. The way he was so clear, so open, with the way he supported you, cared for you, spoke about you when you weren't in the room—

That warm feeling started winding its way through your chest.

You couldn't stop yourself from watching as he took another bite, as his jaw clenched and unclenched. The angle that his shoulders slouched at, the way his arms were skinny at first glance, but rippled with muscles beneath the surface when you got up close. The way his necklaces dangled, and his rings shone when they hit his drab basement lighting just right—they were chess players hands. Thin fingers and large bony knuckles, with veins protruding from under his skin.

When you looked up from his hands, he was already staring at you, the most boyish smirk you'd ever seen slapped across his jaw.

"Were you just checking me out?"

Your chest almost exploded, as the embarrassment wound its way up your neck until it touched the top of your ears. This was one of those questions that was the perfect set up for a flirtatious retort—all of which you had no idea what they were. You didn't usually flirt, and if you did, it was mostly unintentional. You cleared your throat, picking up your slice of pizza again, trying to find a reply that was the furthest thing away from flirty.

"You wish," You said. As it came out of your mouth you knew you'd just done the complete fucking opposite of what you'd meant to do. You'd meant to utterly dismiss him—not egg him on. God forbid—you'd said it sexily. You were ready to ram pizza crust all the way down your throat to clog your windpipe.

The way he looked at you almost killed you. His face softened, but his eyes intensified their stare. He was looking straight through you, trying to divulge all of your thoughts in a matter of seconds.

"Twenty questions," He spoke suddenly.

"What?" Was all you managed in reply, finishing your pizza and leaning back on the miscellaneous pile of cushions that littered his floor.

"I ask you a question, then you ask me one, and so on," He explained, and you let out a chortle.

"Are we five-years-old, Benny?"

"No," He chuckled out. "I just want the opportunity to find out humiliating things about you."

"Then absolutely not—,"

"You get to do it right back at me, though."

There was probably nothing in this world that you liked more than an opportunity to embarrass the champion. You were good at giving political answers—that would be enough. You grabbed your beer, taking a few large gulps in preparation.

"Fine. You go first," You said. Benny took no time asking his first question.

"What was your first impression of me, back in 56'?" You wracked your brain, trying to remember the first time you'd ever seen Benny fucking Watts.

"I liked your hat. My turn," You said quickly. You had a feeling this game was going to go at a quick pace—like a game of speed chess. "Did you really think I was a player in Las Vegas?"

"Yes," Benny said immediately. "How many times have you read my book?"

Your nostrils flared involuntarily. "Three times; cover to cover. Did you sleep with Beth Harmon?"

Benny paused as his lips curled into a small smile. "Yes," He spoke plainly, as his eyes landed upon yours. The ball was in his court, now that you'd brought up something more personal. "Ever had a boyfriend?"

"No," You replied bluntly. You watched as Benny slowly squinted at you. You knew exactly what his next question was going to be, but still, you pushed on. "Ever been in love?" You said quickly, acting as if it wasn't such a deep question.

"Once," Benny said clearly. He didn't look sad or remorseful—he looked ready to ask you what you knew was coming. "Have you ever had sex?"

You huffed at how blunt he'd said it, as a small smile appeared on his lips. It was only fair, after you'd asked him about Beth. "Yes," You replied. You thought he'd raise his eyebrows with surprise, thinking you'd never slept with anyone before, but he didn't. His expression stayed exactly the same, but you could see the cogs in his brain whirring. "Why did you invite me to Maude's cabin?"

"Because I wanted to," He replied, but this time his eyebrows furrowed. He looked at you like a puzzle that he couldn't find the final piece to. "Are we friends, Y/N?"

For the first time since the game had begun, you were speechless. You grappled for your answer, as not to stall any longer and make him think anything different. "I—of course." Worry washed over you suddenly, making you wonder why he'd asked such a thing when you'd assumed it was obvious. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Half the time, you look surprised about me wanting to be around you. You look at me like, if you were a taken chess piece, I wouldn't try to get a pawn to the end of the board and get you back into play," You were thankful that it wasn't your turn to talk yet, because you wouldn't have known what to say. The way Benny's eyes trickled over your face made you feel vulnerable—exposed.

He opened his mouth slightly, as if he was going to say something, but paused to think more about it. "Are we just friends?" He said finally.

Your heart immediately tried to bombard its way up your throat.

This wasn't simply a yes or no answer—you knew that much, which was practically nothing. You didn't know what to answer to such a forward question, when all that was going through your mind was the fact that Benny fucking Watts had just asked you if there was a possibility for something more.

More than just friends.

It was embarrassing how long it took you to put two and two together. He liked you—not just platonically, it seemed, by his earlier questioning—

Benny fucking Watts had a crush on you—

Like a five-year-old with a fancy for his intelligent classmate. It was the smoothest you'd ever seen him. As his eyes stayed glued to yours, you were reminded of what Beth had said about his charms. Only now did you realise what she'd meant. The way he could so easily hold your gaze without hesitation. The tilt of his head as he rested it in his hand, shooting you another smile. Benny knew how to flirt, and he knew what he wanted.

This was the first time you'd ever perceived him to be sexual, in any capacity, with his shallow and patient breaths as he waited for you to respond, knowing just how taken aback you'd be from a question so blunt.

You watched as his eyes flicked to your lips, before shooting straight back up again. It was the same look he'd given you in Monte's on his birthday, except he was much further away, much more out in the open. You were curious as to what his reaction would be if you reciprocated that same stare, so you took the plunge—

You moved your gaze to rest upon his lips, beneath his moustache, before you shot them back up to his eyes. You watched as he gulped­—his Adam's apple bobbing with nerves. You didn't realise you could have this impact upon him; like you could snatch his breath away, or make his cheeks flush a neon pink, or have him encased in his own version of that warm feeling every time you touched.

"I don't know," You whispered. You thought, then and there, that that was the most genuine thing you'd ever spoken. You were somewhere, stuck in the middle, between wanting to utterly fall for him and back the fuck away. Two halves of the same mind screamed at each other with no sense of ever having relief, until a loud knock sounded from the front door.

Benny sat upright, his stare not leaving yours. You thought he'd get up and answer it without saying a word, content on just leaving this conversation to wither and die. Instead, he leant forward, clasping his fingers around your wrist and squeezing firmly. "This game isn't over, Y/N."

You found yourself smiling at him. It wasn't often you saw Benny be so demanding, and knowing how deeply he felt about this hit you in the gut like a punch. A side of yourself that you weren't used to rose to the surface, suddenly, as you found yourself leaning closer to him; so close that your noses almost touched.

You wanted to see what you could do to him; how he reacted to your touch, your words, your feeling—

The same way that he'd caught you out so many times before with his own.

You chose your words wisely, knowing that this was going to be the final say of the game, at least for a while, before you could sit down alone with him once more.

You exhaled, eyes still plastered on the champion's—

"Adjournment."