Damn Benny Watts.
Public humiliation, mockery, literally beating on the chessboard - more than a lost game.
Because of a lousy narcissistic smile the day before. Because of the soft mockery in his dark eyes, with which he shamelessly looks her up and down, studying her, however, with the same passion as the positions of the pieces on the board.
He couldn't even remember her name, but he knew her parts. The games won - all before the game with him. But even in these unambiguous victories, he found weak points, so that later he could generously give advice at a meeting; from the elder to the younger.
From strongest to weaker. Or weak in her gender case (they never tire of reminding them in the press).
Beth breathes raggedly, taking in less air than exhaling, which gives the feeling that she is drowning. Literally or figuratively.
Benny Watts is good. With a stupid cloak, a bunch of jewelry, a pirate hat and adorable hair at any time of the day.
Harmon knows that looks and talent are not related to them. In his case, trade negotiations should be conducted.
Not this Watts with a slack gait and jeans terrified on skinny thighs.
Beth closes her eyes, twitches her lip in irritation; Why would she think at seventeen about someone's hips and insolent smirks?
She has been playing chess for half her life, and in countless professional tournaments, where the line between female and male sex is still not completely erased, gentlemen always give her hand first, giving up.
But Benny Watts is not a gentleman.