Paul sat down in the heavily padded chair, looking over the marble chess board. This was it, the final game. All he had to do was win this, and he’d be going home with ten thousand dollars. 

Which was easier said than done, especially since he only had a basic understanding of how the game was played. 

Truth be told, Paul was a telepath. He’d gotten this far by listening to the strategies of his opponents, and doing the opposite of what they expected him to. It had been close a few times, given that he’d only had a week to study up on tactics and terminology before everything began, but he’d pulled through in the end. One last game, and the money was his. 

Easy. 

----------------------------------------

Lupe sat down in the heavily padded chair, trying to calm her nerves. Everything was so fancy, so official, and she was a cheat. 

She’s gotten this far because she… could see into the future. She could predict what her opponents would do, and made sure they never had a chance to. Apparently she’d done something so incredibly stupid (and still won) that they’d named the move after her. 

She didn’t know anything about chess; she didn’t even know what the pieces were called. All she knew was that if she moved certain pieces to certain places, she would be thrown out for making an illegal move. So she avoided those moves. 

The crowd murmured as an announcer… announced. Lupe was so stressed she couldn’t hear above her own heartbeat. She looked into the future and- 

Wait. No. Oh no. 

Her eyes met Paul’s, and they both turned pale. 

----------------------------------------

Paul took a deep breath as he was announced to go first. He looked into the mind of his opponent and-

For a few seconds neither of them moved. The reality of the situation came crashing in, and all he wanted to do was run. Forget the money; his pride was worth more than a trip to Rio. 

Hello? The word reached his mind from across the table. Can you hear me?

I can, Paul answered, still not sure what to do. 

Lupe let out a nervous giggle. We’re screwed.

He snickered, moving a pawn at random. You think?

She moved a knight, her hand hovering over a few squares before she chose one. What should we do? I don’t want to admit…

No, he agreed, moving another pawn forwards. We play the game. Whoever wins, wins. 

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Lupe stared vacantly at her pieces for half a minute. This wasn’t unusual in a chess tournament. That won’t work. Unless we play well, people will suspect us.

Paul watched as she moved the pawn in front of her left rook two spaces. He tried to think of options. What if… What if we say we played badly on purpose, then split the money? Say we just wanted to have fun? He moved his bishop into a position to take her hors- knight. 

She thought it over, hand slowly moving to the knight. We’d never be able to join a chess tournament ever again, and it would outrage true players, but the public in general would love it. She moved the knight into a position to take one of his pawns. 

He moved the pawn. All right then. This is going to be the fastest match in the history of the world. 

Lupe smiled shyly at him. Would you mind doing most of the talking? she asked silently. 

He couldn’t help noticing she had beautiful eyes. Sure. 

She moved her other horse. 

----------------------------------------

“At the end of the day, chess is a game,” Paul told the reporter. “Games are supposed to be fun, so we had fun. There are so many rules and moves and things in chess, that kids might be scared of playing it. We didn’t want that, we wanted to show that anyone can play, even if they don’t know every little detail. It’s ok to enjoy playing chess.”

“So you disagree with those who believe chess ought to be taken seriously?” the reporter asked. 

Lupe checked the future. No, she silently told Paul. 

“Not at all,” he said pensively. “There are many things in life that can be fun while being taken seriously. Like cooking; many people study theories and have it down to a science, while others just throw things into a pan and hope for the best. As long as the outcome is edible, neither approach is wrong. Some people enjoy taking chess seriously, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But for us, after eleven serious and stressful matches… we just wanted to have fun.”

The reporter turned towards Lupe. “Do you agree with this sentiment? Or were you bullied into not taking the game seriously?”

Lupe checked the future and smiled faintly. “I agree with Paul,” she said, sliding her hand into his. “Sometimes it’s important to be serious, but sometimes it’s nice to have fun.”

The reporter noticed her movement and backed off the man-taking-over angle. Instead, she would prepare a sensational love story. “May I ask when you came up with this plan?”

“Last week,” Lupe answered confidently. 

“We met just after Lupe won her semifinal and agreed we’d rather not fight to the death, as it were,” Paul agreed.

“How romantic,” the reporter said, the details of her story becoming concrete. 

We would be an amazing con artist duo, Paul told Lupe. 

I’ve sworn to only ever use my powers for good, she replied. 

His fingers tightened around hers. Say, after this, do you want to get-

Yes. 

“Well, congratulations on your title, Miss Lupe,” the reporter said, smiling. “I wish you both luck in your next tournament.”

“Thank you,” they both replied. 

The reporter fiddled with the recording app on her phone, heading off to interview other people. Lupe relaxed, humming to herself as they walked to the parking garage. 

“We survived,” Paul said, laughing. 

“We did.”

He grinned at her. “Want to play a game of chess?”

She didn’t bother checking the future on that one. “Sure.”