Page 12

Chapter 12

Darcy

M y heart still hasn’t calmed down at all since West almost kissed me. I don’t even know why I took the call. I should have ignored it. I’m not sure what I was thinking.

I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my face, and a massive part of me wants to tell Dad to be quiet so I can finish what we started.

“I told you there was an intellect in Weston,” Dad muses.

Ugh. Please, please be quiet so I can get back to him. “I know.”

“Well, kiddo, I’ll let you go.” Thank God. “I love you and I’ll see you later.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

I hang up the phone, my heart lurching in excitement.

I turn to West, only to find he’s definitely not where I left him. Or at least the version of him I had a few minutes ago isn’t .

There’s something… detached on his face. His jaw is tight, like he’s grinding his teeth together. Like the look he got when he was jealous of Parker, only not at all like that because this time he won’t even meet my eyes.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the physical distance he’s put between us is glaringly obvious. Where before he was leaned into me, a breath away, now his entire body is shifted away.

It doesn’t take a body language expert to put two and two together and realize that whatever closeness he just initiated is gone. And with it, the hope for more. It seems he came to his senses at the last minute. “West? Are… is everything okay?”

He glances at me, but doesn’t let his gaze linger. “Yes.”

My stomach goes cold. It doesn’t feel like things are okay. “Are you sure?”

He nods, sighing heavily before finally, finally looking at me.

He smiles, but it looks forced. Nothing at all like the usual radiance that graces his face. “I have a bit of a headache. I think I might go lie down. Would it be okay to pick this up another day? Maybe next week?”

Trying to hide my disappointment, I nod quickly. “Yeah, of course. Do you want some company?” I have no right to ask, but I can’t help myself. I don’t want to leave, especially not after that almost kiss.

West hesitates, and my heart soars when he looks like he might be about to say yes, but then his shoulders slump, bringing my heart down with them. “Probably not the best idea. I wouldn’t want to take a chance on getting you sick in case I’m coming down with something.”

“Okay… that makes sense. Can I get the jersey before I leave?”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise before he schools his expression. “You still want to come to the game? ”

“Of course I do.” Why would he think I wouldn’t? I don’t understand what’s happening right now. Is this because he almost kissed me? “Why wouldn’t I? Unless… if you don’t want me to come, that’s fine.”

He shakes his head, standing up quickly. “Trust me, Darcy. It’s not about what I want. Let me go grab it,” he says, taking off before I even have a chance to respond to his cryptic statement.

I stand, hovering awkwardly by the door, my stomach in absolute knots over everything going on. I’m not sure how I managed to mess things up so badly. Would he still have reacted this way if we had kissed? Would it have made it better or worse? Ugh. I need to call Parker.

West walks out of the bedroom and comes to me, handing over his jersey. I take it and our fingers brush. He hesitates for a second, the warmth of his skin seeping into mine, before he swallows hard and lets go.

“I’ll see you after the game?” I ask. What I really want to know is if we’re still on for dinner or if he’d rather not do that anymore, but I’m too afraid to ask in case the answer is no.

“Yeah. I’ll see you then.”

I nod and turn, heading out the door before I can let my emotions get the best of me. I knew this crush would end up with me being hurt.

Parker and I walk into the stadium side by side. I’m a nervous wreck. “I shouldn’t be here, Park. ”

Parker shakes their head. “Nah, fuck that, Darce. He invited you. Just because he got his panties in a twist over almost kissing a boy doesn’t mean he gets to be a dick.”

No, I know that. He wasn’t even mean about it, but also… ugh. At the very least, I shouldn’t have worn this. But here I am, West’s black and red jersey almost swallowing me, even though he’s not much bigger than I am—his number and Hale broadcasting to everyone around me.

“You’re overthinking things,” Parker says, looping their arm through mine as we walk up the stairs to our seats. “You look hot in his jersey, by the way. So that’s good at any rate.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Thanks, Park. I appreciate the ego boost.”

They shrug. “Always here for that. You know that.”

We find our seats and sit down. I don’t think I fully realized how big the field was until now. It looks so small on the TV. My eyes sweep the field, confusion settling in. “How do they get the first down lines on the grass?” I ask Parker.

Their eyebrows almost touch their hairline. They’re feeling more femme today, it seems, since they’re wearing a full face of makeup and a flowy sundress, showing off smooth, hairless legs. “Darcy. Please tell me you don’t believe there are actually lines on the grass. ”

I freeze, scanning the field again. “There are, though. In all the games I’ve watched with West, they have a line on the line of scrimmage and then another where they need to get for a first down.”

I turn to Parker to find them blinking at me. “I love you, Darce. But you have got to be the stupidest smart person I’ve ever met.”

Wow. Rude. “But…”

Parker rolls their eyes. “The lines are just on the TV. They don’t actually have those on the field. ”

Panic washes over me. You’d think that would have been something West would have told me in our many football lessons. “So how are you supposed to tell when they’ve made it ten yards, then?”

Parker laughs. “They have people who stand on the sidelines and hold up markers.”

Oh my God. And here I thought I actually had a pretty good grasp of football. “If you tell West I didn’t know that, I’m never going to speak to you again.”

“Yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, but I’ll keep your secret anyway.”

The crowd erupts as the team rushes onto the field. My heart almost stops dead when I catch sight of West. Holy. Freaking. Football pants. I’m not a religious guy by any means, but I’m thanking God for Weston Hale in those pants.

Parker laughs loudly beside me. “Put your tongue away.”

I elbow them. “Shut up. He looks…”

Parker hums. “Good enough to eat.”

“Stop.”

They nudge my side. “You’re no fun.”

West steps to the sideline and pulls his helmet off. His hair’s a little damp with sweat, and it’s already clinging to his forehead. That should be against at least ten laws. He scans the crowd quickly, and when he finds me, I wave. His eyes light up in surprise, and he waves back, making everyone around us scream and cheer. I glance behind me, taking in the way everyone is cheering and losing their collective minds that West just waved in their direction.

Is he some kind of celebrity or something? What in the world?

His eyes fall to my—his—jersey, and something flashes across his face that I can’t really read.

“Damn. Boy’s down bad for you, babe,” Parker says, brushing their shoulder against me.

I sigh. “If that’s the case, then why does he look like he’d rather me not be here?”

“Because boys are stupid. Give him time. He’ll get his shit together… eventually.”

Yeah, but will my heart still be intact when that happens?

By the time the game finally starts, I’ve mostly pushed everything from my mind. Our offense ends up taking the field first, although I’m still not sure how they decide that. West always starts the games at kickoff.

They huddle, and West says something before they break apart and all line up. When they snap the ball, I hold my breath. West backs up in the pocket, bouncing on his toes as he scans the field.

He releases the ball, and I don’t let my breath go until it’s caught. The guy who caught it runs a couple more yards before he’s brought down. The crowd starts chanting first down, which yeah, I can see how that’s obvious even though I don’t have the convenient lines to guide me.

On the next play, West hands the ball off to the guy standing next to him. He runs straight into a group of giant football players, which makes no sense to me. He doesn’t get far, maybe a yard. I really don’t understand why they don’t just run around the other players instead of trying to run right through them.

The next play gets a flag for holding, where they end up in a third and long situation. Well, that sucks.

“Do you think they’ll have to punt?” I ask Parker.

Parker shrugs. “Not sure. We’ll have to see if he can convert.”

West is apparently really good at playing football because he breaks a tackle and then another, running off toward the sideline and launching the ball. The crowd is screaming, on their feet, and jumping up and down. By the time I realize what’s going on, I’m on my feet too, screaming and cheering along.

Parker leans in close. “Touchdown. Your boy’s got chops.”

“Not mine,” I yell.

Parker cackles. “Not yet, maybe.”

West runs toward the end zone, grabbing the guy who caught the ball by the helmet, and bumps their helmets together. It’s cute, and I can’t help but laugh.

When the defense comes out, I’m getting pumped up. This is so much more fun than watching it on TV. Sure, it’s easier to see what’s happening when it’s on the TV, but it’s no comparison to the energy in the stadium. The crowd is alive, and the atmosphere is electric.

By the time half-time rolls around and the teams leave the field, my throat is raw from how hard I’ve been screaming and cheering. Parker isn’t any better off. I glance over at them. “Hey, can I ask a question?”

“Of course.”

“How do they decide who gets the ball to start the game?”

Parker laughs. “They do a coin toss. Whoever wins gets to either receive or defer. The other team won the toss, and they deferred.”

I nod. Okay. That really clears up nothing. “Defer?”

Parker wraps an arm around my waist, laughing. I’m not sure what’s so funny. I think I’m doing pretty good considering a month ago, I didn’t know any of this. “So it means that they want the ball first after half-time. The goal is to score on the last drive of the first half, and then get the ball right back at the start of the second half.”

“Well, that makes sense.”

When the teams run onto the field, the crowd roars again. It feels like our defense is doing a good job today because the other team didn’t get the chance to score like they apparently thought would happen. Or were hoping for, I guess. Still a little fuzzy on the strategy.

West leads the offense onto the field and I can tell immediately something is wrong.

There’s a tense set to his shoulders. He doesn’t seem as cool and confident anymore, which is strange considering they’re up by two touchdowns and they just stopped the other team.

When the ball is snapped, something feels different, and West barely has time to step back before he’s being tackled to the ground. It happened so quickly, I almost didn’t see it coming, and clearly he didn’t either. My stomach drops when I notice he’s not getting up. I’m debating on rushing down the steps, which would be the stupidest idea, when he finally climbs to his feet.

He takes a few steps, yelling at someone. Someone on his own team, I think. I guess that makes sense, given they are supposed to be protecting him. But West doesn’t really seem the type to get mad and yell at his own team. Especially not for something that’s pretty common, from what I’ve seen at least. It’s not like I’ve never seen a quarterback get sacked before.

The rest of the game is more of the same. West getting sacked over and over, then yelling at his teammate. And with only three minutes to go, there’s almost an all-out brawl. West jumps up, throwing the ball to the side and taking off across the field, grabbing his own defender by the jersey and shoving him backward.

There’s more yelling, a collective gasp through the crowd, and then the guy shoves West. They grapple for a second before the ref steps in and forces them apart.

“What’s happening?” I ask, leaning toward Parker .

“I’m not sure, really. Something must have happened at the half because they weren’t acting like this before. It almost seems like the defender is letting people through on purpose.”

“What? That makes no sense. Why would they do that?” I ask.

“I have no idea.”

From the brief flashes I can see of his face and his heaving chest, it’s clear that West is mad. The team ends up winning, but only because they managed to score a field goal and the defense showed up.

I jump up from the stands, dragging Parker with me. “Let’s go wait for him by the locker room. That’s where they’ll come out from when they’re done, right?”

Parker nods, following me.

The area right outside the locker room is packed, so we’re standing by the exit, waiting. A couple of players have come out, but not the player I’m waiting for. Parker is scrolling on their phone, and I’m scanning the crowd. Waiting. So impatiently, I might add.

Finally, the door opens and West walks out. His face is a thunderstorm. The anger is there for sure, but there’s a million other emotions flying across his face too. So many I almost can’t keep up.

Someone walks out behind him, shoving him forward. “Going to find your little faggot boyfriend, Hale?”

My blood freezes. What did he just say?

Parker tenses, putting their phone away quickly, fully on alert.

West turns, slamming the guy into the wall, pressing his arm over his throat. “I already fucking told you. Don’t talk about him like that.”

The guy laughs. “What? Is he not bending you over enough? You’d think getting laid would loosen you up some. Or maybe it’s just that boy pussy isn’t as good as real pussy. Is that it, Hale?”

Someone else jumps into the fray. West’s receiver, I think. “Bro, shut the fuck up. No one wants your bigoted-ass comments. ”

The guy West has pinned to the wall laughs again. I’m not sure I’d be laughing if I were him, but hey, maybe he’s not concerned. I’m concerned, though. This is exactly what I was worried about. “You can’t deny it, Hale. We all saw his little fag ass sitting up there in your jersey like he was something special.”

West’s face twists in anger. “Don’t fucking talk about him like that. You have no idea what type of person he is. You’re not even good enough to say his fucking name. I’m going to let you go, and you’ll leave without another word, or I’ll have your ass off this team.”

I should probably say something, right? Do something? I can’t. I’m frozen. I hate this. He’s defending me to some jerk I couldn’t care less about, and I can’t even do anything.

West releases his grip on the guy and steps back, his entire body shaking. I’ve heard bigoted things so many times. So many times. It’s life. It is what is it, but West? He hasn’t. And I hate that he’s having to hear it from his own team, and it’s all because of me.

“This was a bad idea, Park,” I choke out. “We should go.”

I’m grabbing Parker’s arm and starting to walk away when West sees me. Before I can even blink, he’s making his way to me—apologies written all over his face. He drops his gaze to my jersey and looks up at me, and even though there’s still anger burning in his eyes, I can tell it’s not for me. If anything, it looks like he relaxes more and more as he makes his way to me. His eyes fall again, and then he’s smiling. A bright, breathtaking smile that makes my knees weak and my heart soar. I can’t believe he’s looking at me like that.

God, I’m about to do something so stupid. I can tell. My brain isn’t working right. I can’t be trusted to make smart decisions right now. Not when he’s looking at me like that. Not when he just defended me that way. Not when he’s rushing toward me like I alone can solve all his problems .

He stops in front of me, and seemingly without conscious thought, traces the number nine on the front of the jersey I’m wearing.

His eyes find mine, and with my heart pounding heavily in my chest, I raise on my tip-toes, reveling in the sound of his quick exhale. “I’m going to do something. And if you hate it, you can stop me,” I murmur, my lips so close to his that they catch on them as I speak the words. Before he can respond, I’m pushing forward and pressing my lips to his.