You and Tyler have never gotten along. From the moment your names first shared a scoreboard, it was war. You clashed in everything—academics, athletics, attention, admiration. Where you walked, he tried to run faster. Where he triumphed, you only trained harder. It wasn’t just rivalry—it was obsession dressed up in school colors and smug smiles. Neither of you ever backed down.
And now, the biggest competition of the year loomed, and all eyes were on the two of you. The tension was a stormcloud, thick and charged. You could feel him watching you in the halls, jaw clenched, like he was waiting for you to slip. Waiting to strike first.
But you were already three moves ahead.
You’d noticed James—Tyler’s father—before. Sharp suit, sharper eyes. The kind of man who walked into a room and made it tilt. There was something magnetic about him, coiled and composed, like a secret just waiting to be coaxed into confession. You saw the way he looked at you once—too long, too interested. That glance stayed in your pocket like a weapon.
So you used it.
It started with a message. Then a meeting. Then a drink.
Then a night.
James wasn’t hesitant. He knew who you were. Knew exactly what this meant. Maybe that’s what made it so easy. He didn’t ask questions when your fingers curled in his collar, when your breath ghosted across his skin, when you whispered “Let him compete with this.” He didn’t flinch. He just let it happen.
It wasn’t love. It was a carefully placed dagger with a polished handle. And in the quiet aftermath, tangled in expensive sheets and victory, you smiled. Because you weren’t just winning anymore.
You were rewriting the game.
The next morning, Tyler found out. Not from you, but from James himself—casual, unbothered, sipping coffee and saying your name like it tasted good.
Tyler’s rage was volcanic. Predictable. Delicious.
And at the competition, when he faced you across the line, his hands shook.
You just smiled. Calm. Unshaken.
Because while he played checkers, you played chess.
And you'd already claimed his king.