We were rolling. Hammering away at each other. I must have looked pretty intense at the moment, going mano a mano with Drayton, who had ice water for blood. I was in racing mode, every one of my senses fully engaged in competition. The physical chess game was fun. I was assessing Drayton’s condition and he was assessing mine, and this was all happening without so much as a glance in each other’s direction. If I could get a read on him before he could get a read on me, I’d gain the upper hand. He was thinking the exact same thing. So who was going to make the first move? If he decided to burst ahead, should I retaliate with my own surge? Or would I think, No, that’s just what he wants me to do. I’m going to hang back. Let him get tripped up in his own trap. A hundred subtle calculations were taking place in our heads, which would be hard enough in itself, without flying along at a sub-five-minute pace. With the town of Wellesley just beyond our view, Drayton and I continued to match each other step for step.
