Page 16

Chapter 16

Darcy

T he second I leave West’s place, I call Parker.

They don’t answer for a while and I’m half-convinced they aren’t going to, but finally they pick up. “Hey.”

Their voice is all wrong, and slightly high-pitched and almost a little whiny. “Ew. Why are you so out of breath?”

“I’m not.” Lies, all lies. “Fuck. Keep going.”

“Keep going?”

Parker huffs. “Not you, Darcy. Jesus.”

There’s a groan followed by a choked breath. My brain uses this opportunity to remind me that I went home with West and Parker went home with Benson, and oh, absolutely not. Not happening. “Okay. Bye. Not listening to this. Call me when you’re done.”

Parker laughs through a breathless moan. Ugh. I hang up with a disgusted face, tucking my phone back into my pocket .

That was a bust. Oh well. I shouldn’t have even called. I’m not sure I would have if I had known I was going to get all that. I shake it off and rush home so I can shower and change before my meeting with my student. He doesn’t seem at all interested in actually learning, and I already know it’s going to get on my nerves.

No one will be as amazing to tutor as West is, but at least Caleb acts like he cares. He at least tries. Considering Marc has canceled on me once already, I don’t have high hopes.

By the time I’ve showered and gotten dressed, I’m almost running late, which is so unlike me. But when your brand-new boyfriend makes it a personal mission to see how many orgasms he can pull out of you in a single day? Well, let’s just say, you don’t really want to leave his bed.

I make it to the library on time, but just barely. Breathing a sigh of relief, I sit down at my normal table and open my notebook to get everything ready. Since this is our first meeting, I need to figure out what strategy I’m going to take. A quick look at my phone tells me Marc is three minutes late. I know that’s ridiculous, and that I was almost late myself, but it’s still frustrating. I do this for free. Because I’m a nice person. Because I genuinely enjoy helping people.

But when people waste my time? Ugh. It’s not like I get all that much spare time to begin with, so it’s always frustrating when someone doesn’t respect that.

Instead of losing my crap, I spend some time making notes for Caleb’s next lesson. He’s doing pretty well lately and I’m hoping we can keep up the momentum. I glance at my phone again. Ten minutes late.

I sigh, my frustration building. I’ll give him ten more minutes. That’s it. If he’s not here within that time, I’m out, and I’ll be emailing him that I’m not meeting with him anymore. I have far better things I could be doing. Like West. Although, maybe not, since I’m not sure my dick could get hard again right now if I paid it to.

By the time the ten minutes are up, my frustration has reached a boiling point. But hey, at any rate, I get an extra forty minutes with West. So that’s nice. Some of my irritation melts away as I gather all my stuff and start putting it back in my bag.

Some. Not all.

I am still pretty freaking irritated. I heave my bag over my shoulder and make my way out of the library and into the night. It’s getting cooler at night. Thank God. It’s been so miserably hot lately and I hate everything about it. Am I grumpy about it? Yeah. But most of that is probably because I just spent twenty minutes and time away from West waiting on some jerk who never showed. “Freaking waste of time,” I mumble to myself.

“Aww, what’s wrong, princess? You mad I wasted your time?”

I freeze in place, turning around just in time to see Marc—Marcus, actually, I guess—step out from beside the building. The look he’s giving me has something cold settling in my stomach. “Nope. Not mad. Just not a fan of having my time wasted.”

He laughs. “Well, I’m not a fan of little pussy boy fags, so I guess we’re both unhappy.”

I can’t help but grin. “Aww. Well, that sucks for you. Last time I checked, your opinions of me mean absolutely nothing, so screw off.”

His grin turns predatory and he takes a step toward me. I back up. Not dealing with this crap tonight. I turn on my heel and start to walk away, but he grabs my arm tightly and pulls me back, making me stumble. “Don’t touch me.”

“Why not? You’re okay with Weston touching you.”

I try to pull my arm away from him, but his grip tightens. “Couldn’t stand the sight of you. Sitting in the stands, all high and mighty. Shoving your bullshit in everyone’s faces. Fucking disgusting. And that little show in the hallway afterward? Sick.”

He just about spits the words out, and I clearly have no chill because I open my mouth and nothing good comes out. “Aww, are you jealous, sweetheart? Don’t worry. We can probably find some dick for you to enjoy too. Just not mine. West’s is out of commission too, I fear.”

His jaw clenches tightly, and it’s obvious I struck a nerve. He drops my arm, and I move to take a step away when pain explodes across my face. The impact makes me stumble backward, and I stand shocked for a second.

Did he just hit me? I bring my hand up and touch my chin where a sharp pain is blooming, and pull away fingers covered in blood. My tongue darts out and I realize my lip is split. Bigoted freak. I don’t even think. I hit him back, a right hook to his jaw. It’s clear it surprised him, but he recovers quickly and tries to swing at me again. I duck away from him and take off running, my adrenaline pumping so hard that my heart is racing, my stomach twisted in knots.

Jesus Christ. I couldn’t just keep my mouth shut, huh? Couldn’t just de-escalate the situation. I had to go and make it worse.

I don’t even realize where I’m running to until I see West’s apartment building up ahead. My lungs are screaming and I could probably stop running now, especially since I’m almost positive I’m not being followed. And really, why in the world did I not stop for my car?

Holy crap. I just got into a fight. I have never been in a fight before. Not a physical one, anyway.

My feet carry me up the stairs and down the hallway to West’s door, where I burst in without even knocking. He’s sitting on the couch, book in hand. His head shoots up when I come barreling through the door and it takes him all of three seconds of processing to piece together what happened .

He’s off the couch and in front of me before I can blink. He cups my face gently, fury burning in his eyes. I’m safe. I’m with West, but now I’m pretty sure the adrenaline is crashing and my knees don’t seem to want to hold me up and I basically collapse against him.

His arm wraps around my waist, and even though I’m not a small man, he picks me up and carries me to the couch. He sits me down and I grab his shirt with a trembling hand when he starts to move away. “I’m just getting ice, Darce. And something to clean you up with. I’ll be right back.”

It’s way harder than it should be to force myself to let go of his shirt, but finally, I manage it. He steps into the kitchen and grabs an ice-pack from the freezer and wets a wash cloth before coming back to the couch and sitting down beside me.

Gentle fingers cup my face, and then West is wiping the blood away from my chin. “What the fuck happened, Darcy?”

I stare at him for a second, debating on if telling him is a good idea. Finally, I sigh. “So the guy I was meeting to tutor tonight? Marc?” West nods, his eyes laser focused on his task of cleaning me up. “Yeah, turns out he’s actually Marcus. ”

West freezes. It’s eerily silent. I swear even my heart stops beating. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

I barely even have time to react before West is on his feet and rushing away from me toward the door.

“No! Stop.”

He stops, hand on the door handle, back rising and falling, his shoulders raised and every muscle in his back tense. “He’s not going to get away with this, Darcy. I already fucking told you. I don’t care what they do to me. But hurting you is out of the fucking question.”

I stand up and go after him on shaky legs. “I know. But hear me out—it was my fault. ”

West scoffs, whirling around to face me. “It was not your fucking fault.”

I shrug. “It kind of was. He was running his mouth and I provoked him. Besides, I got a hit in too.”

West’s entire chest heaves with his next exhale. “That’s not the point, Darcy. He fucking hurt you. He put his hands on you.” He starts pacing. “I’m going to kill him.”

I move after him, placing a hand on his chest, forcing him to still. “West. It’s not worth it. He’s a jerk. It’s fine. You’re not going to get expelled and lose everything you’ve worked so hard for over this dickhead, okay? Breathe.”

He watches me for a second, the rage burning in his eyes so potent I can almost feel it. His jaw clenches and unclenches, the fury pouring off him in waves. “Breathe,” I repeat.

He inhales a ragged breath before letting it out, and then another. Finally, after what feels like forever, his taut muscles relax the slightest bit under my touch and his breathing evens out. “Let me finish getting the blood off you. If I have to keep staring at it, I won’t be responsible for my actions. It’s bad enough that it’s already bruising.”

I try for a joke. “Doesn’t it make me look tough, though?” West’s nostrils flare. Clearly not amused then. “I’m serious. I got in a crazy right hook to his jaw. It was kind of amazing.”

With a sharp exhale, he presses his forehead to mine. “Stop talking, Darcy. You’re about to make my heart explode. I’m barely hanging on here.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, leaning into his touch. “I’m really okay, I promise.”

He lets out a slow, measured breath and wraps his arms around me. He’s trembling. Not a lot. I’m not even sure I would have realized it at all if he hadn’t wrapped himself around me. “I’m okay,” I repeat, gripping his waist.

“Jesus. Okay. Let me get you cleaned up, then we need to ice your jaw. And you’re staying here.”

I almost laugh, but he’s really worked up about this. “Okay,” I say, trying to soothe the jagged edges of his anger. “That’s fine.”

“And no date tonight,” he continues. “I can’t. I just… I can’t. I need to wrap you up in my bed and keep you there tonight, where I know you’ll be safe.”

Jesus. He’s too freaking cute. But I also won’t complain about that even a little bit. “That sounds perfect to me.”

He holds me for a few more minutes before stepping back and leading me to the couch. His touch is tender as he cleans me up, but he does have to stop a couple of times to calm himself down before he can continue. “There’s blood on your shirt,” he murmurs, eyes flaring with renewed anger. “I’m going to grab you something to change into. Stay here.”

He presses the ice pack into my hands and I hold it to my jaw as he stands up, rushing quickly from the room like I might disappear if he doesn’t move fast. It’s less than thirty seconds later when he’s back in the living room, helping me out of my shirt and into one of his sweatshirts.

“Let’s go to bed,” he says, gathering the blood-stained clothing and the wash cloth.

“No. Not yet. I’m alright. What were you reading when I came in?”

He watches me for a second before his shoulders slump. “Pride and Prejudice.”

I hum, settling deeper into the couch. “Can you get me an anti-inflammatory and then read to me? ”

There’s a slight hesitation and then a jerky nod. Thank God. My entire face is throbbing. Stupid Marcus. I’m pretty sure my assessment that he wants some dick too is spot on. Typical closeted bigot. Ugh.

West steps away and comes back a few minutes later with a glass of water and two pills. I swallow them and sink back onto the couch. “Well, come on, then,” I say, patting the cushion beside me.

West sits down, picking up his book. I can tell he’s still not happy about the events of tonight, but I’m glad he’s calmed down a little bit. “I’ve already read it,” I say, glancing at him. “You can start it wherever you left off.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’ll start at the beginning.”

I shrug. Whatever he wants. When he gets himself comfortable on the couch, I pull the throw blanket from the back of it down, and squirm around until I can rest my head in his lap. He seems a little confused for a second, but once I’m settled with the blanket wrapped around me, he smiles down at me.

He runs a finger down my non-bruised cheek and sighs. “So fucking beautiful.”

My heart does something wild in my chest. Half-exploding, half-melting, and my breath hitches. He gives me a weak smile, and then he sits back on the couch and opens the book.

His fingers card through my hair, and I close my eyes as he clears his throat. “Okay,” he says softly. I’m thankful for that, since the medicine hasn’t quite kicked in yet and I can feel a massive headache brewing. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

I hum. “Or a himbo quarterback.”

He snorts, his fingers still playing with my hair as he continues reading .

My jaw hurts and my lip is stinging, but I let myself fully relax, listening to the cadence of his voice as he reads. My closed eyes grow heavy and before I know it, his voice is a low murmur I can’t pick any individual words from.

His fingers stray from my hair to my temple, then back to my hair again. I let out a little sigh as I realize how good I feel—even with my face pulsing with pain every heartbeat.

I just barely feel the lightest of kisses on my forehead before I’m out like a light.