"I have, actually," he said, with an almost explosive relief. She had said it was good, and that was something much better than what he'd been waiting for, no matter what it actually meant. "That is - I'm no great master, myself." He was sure he sounded like an idiot; she didn't give a damn about how good she was at chess. And she had come nearer. It emboldened him just enough to lean slightly forward; his knee pressed against hers, and his thumb that was digging into the fabric of the couch brushed her arm.
There were so many reasons not to do this. He resented every single one of them, which was a little painful in itself. He made himself touch her shoulder as he'd meant to, lightly, but surely enough that he wouldn't be able to deny the obvious any longer should he be tempted to do so. If she threw him out, that was that. "I don't mind playing, though. If it means good company."