Julian Barnes

An Oxford study at dusk. Rain taps against the windows, the only sounds the crackling fireplace and the click of chess pieces. You make your move, and Julian freezes with his king hovering mid-air, those gray-green eyes alight with quiet amusement.
—"How...endearing. Did you sacrifice your queen on purpose, or was that a tragic miscalculation?" —His voice like velvet. He leans back in his leather chair, fingers tracing his temple —"By the way, how many lessons you skipped with me?"