Page 3

Chapter 3

Weston

D arcy’s still standing by the table, staring at me like I’m from another planet. I hope I haven’t already found a way to mess everything up. “Well?” I prompt, gesturing toward the seat across from me.

He seems to snap himself out of it and sits down. I’m trying to project confidence, but his reaction is making me worry that he already thinks I’m a lost cause. “So, uh—Okay. Let’s um…” He clears his throat. “Let’s go over what you do understand. That’s where I like to start.”

“Oh. That’ll be easy. Nothing.”

He gets a little furrow between his brows. “Nothing?”

“Pretty much. It’s all the details. The names, the dates, the specifics—it just doesn’t make sense. I study and study and nothing helps. This is my last ditch effort. I asked your dad for extra credit, but he apparently doesn’t do that.”

Darcy shakes his head. “No. He’s pretty against that.”

“Right. So here I am, hoping you can help me figure it out.” I blow out a breath and run a hand through my hair. “I’m a little nervous that I’m a lost cause, but I’ll do anything to understand it. I just…” I drag a hand down my face, nerves firing in my stomach. “I need to pass this class. My scholarship is riding on it.”

He leans back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly on the desk between us, and studies me for a long moment before smiling. And damn, what a smile. It puts me instantly at ease. “You’re not a lost cause. We’ll find a way to make it stick, yeah?”

I nod, even though I’m not feeling all that great about my chances. It’s not about his abilities, but mine. I’m sure he’s incredibly smart. I just worry that I’m not. You’d think by now I’d have figured out a way to grasp these concepts. “I’ll take your word for it,” I say, giving him a smile, hoping it comes across more confident than I’m feeling.

“Okay,” he says, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on the table. “Tell me where we’re at.”

I lean over and unzip my backpack, pulling out my history textbook along with my notebook and flashcards. My face is burning as I set everything out on the table. When I have it all laid out, I force myself to look up.

Darcy’s leaning forward, staring at all my things with wide eyes. “Wow,” he breathes. “This is… quite the collection of notes.” My stomach sinks. Yeah, so I was right. I’m definitely a lost cause. “I’m impressed. I love the organization. This is actually going to help us so much. It’s here, yeah? Now we just need to get it here.” He looks up at me, flashing me that smile again as he taps his temple, and my tension eases .

“You think?” I ask, proud of how even my voice sounds. I’m so damn nervous, though. I need this to work. I need to pass this class.

“Oh, I know . Most of the people I tutor are not this organized. You’ve got it, West. I promise. We need to find a way to help you remember. That’s all. May I?”

He gestures toward my notes, so I wave my hand in front of them. “Of course.”

He grabs my notebook first. He’s quiet while he flips through the pages. I let myself take him in while he does. His dark hair’s a little messy, hanging over his forehead. He’s got almost soft features, but his cheekbones are sharp and high. I’m not really sure what I was expecting, but I don’t think it was this. I think I was expecting a meek little nerd-looking guy. And sure, he’s got the wire-framed glasses thing, but he’s also almost as tall as I am and has what looks like a decent build. He’s not a linebacker by any means, but he’s not what I imagined.

The sound of him flipping a page in the notebook makes me jump a little bit. He looks up at me over the rim of his glasses, but goes right back to scanning the page. His eyes are moving at rapid speed. I’m not sure if he’s skimming or if he’s just a really fast reader.

He flips the page again, humming as he nods to himself. I can’t help but wonder what’s going on in his head. After a few minutes, he places the notebook on the table and picks up my flashcards. “Color-coded.” He grins. “I love this. It’s really speaking to the nerd in me.”

I laugh. “Well, I figured I’d try anything once. It didn’t work, but I was willing to give it a shot.”

He cocks his head, studying me again. I have to physically resist the urge to squirm in my seat. I feel a bit like a bug he’s watching. It’s almost like he can see into my mind and figure out how my brain works. It’s unnerving. He sits back, nibbling on his lower lip. Finally, he sighs. “Okay. You’re a football player.”

It’s not a question, and now I feel a little bad that I didn’t know who he was before this. “Yeah.”

“Position?”

“I’m the quarterback.”

He nods, thoughtful. “Okay… Hmm, I’m not a football guy, as I’m sure you can tell.” He lets out a self-deprecating laugh. “But I’m assuming there’s a playbook or something?”

I nod. “There is.”

He makes a little clicking sound with his tongue like he’s really thinking things over, his eyebrows drawing together. Watching him process and think is… fascinating. “I’m assuming you know the plays? Like the coach says, do whatever thing he tells you to do, and you know instinctively what he wants you to do?”

“Yeah. I mean, I have to study them like anything else. But yes.”

“Color-coding is great. It’s a fantastic start. You have the building blocks right there. You’re clearly intelligent.” My entire body flushes warm at the compliment. “The problem is not your intellect. It’s that the subject matter isn’t tied to anything meaningful.”

I let those words sink in for a second. “And you think we can find a way to make them feel meaningful?”

“Explain how the playbook works to me. ”

Oh. I blink at him, a little caught off guard. “I thought you were supposed to be the teacher here?”

He laughs. “I am. But my knowledge of football is abysmal. I’m trying to get a feel for how you process information. I can’t do that without a complete picture of that brain of yours.”

“Well… it’s a set of plays.” I stop, my face heating as I laugh a little at myself because duh, but Darcy’s eyes are lit up and he nods at me, en couraging me to continue. “Okay, so it’s broken down into sections. Offense, defense, and special teams. Each play is drawn out to show what each player is supposed to be doing.”

Darcy tilts his head, his expression thoughtful. “How do you remember them?”

“Repetition. Well, and context.”

“Context?”

“Yeah, it’s not isolated. You can’t just look at one section and it make sense. You have to understand when and why to use a certain play. Like if it’s third and long, we’re not running it up the middle.”

“So, that made no sense to me. But what I’m gathering is that it’s not about memorizing the play, so much as figuring out how they fit into the bigger picture. The strategy behind it.”

I nod, feeling a little more confident now that we’re talking about something I actually know. “We can’t just know the play at face value. We have to understand how it fits in within the context of the game, when to use it, and how to execute it.”

“I need to do a crap-load of football research,” he mumbles, almost to himself.

What? “Why?”

He taps his fingers on the table, his eyes a little unfocused, like he’s not really present. Damn, his mind must be an intense place. Finally, he raises his gaze to mine. “This is our way. Events in history aren’t just isolated facts. Give me a position besides yours, but someone you work closely with.”

“Um, Benson, my wide receiver.”

“And he does?”

I can’t help but smile. “He catches the ball on pass plays.”

“Oof. Really need to do football research. ”

“How about I teach you football, and you can teach me history?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Darcy blinks at me, clearly thrown off by my suggestion. “Huh, yeah. We can do that.”

“Really?” I almost expected him to tell me to fuck off.

“Yeah, it’s a fair trade, right? But back to this. Benson can’t just catch a ball if no one throws it, right? You’re the first step. You throw the ball and he catches it.”

“Sometimes,” I say with a grin.

“Sometimes,” he amends. “But you throw it, he catches it, and then he does… well, whatever it is he does with it afterward. It’s not just an isolated event, but a series of events that takes place to make a bigger picture.”

I nod slowly, starting to get an idea of how this might actually work. “I think I’m getting what you’re putting out there. But for what it’s worth, the snap is part one in the series of events.”

He rolls his eyes, but it’s playful, not irritated. “Okay, smarty-pants. When’s the next football game? I need to start my education so I can start yours.”

“Oh, you were serious about that.”

His nose scrunches up. “Of course I was.”

“Well, there aren’t any games happening right now. The season hasn’t technically started, but I can always show you replays or something.”

I’m expecting him to shut the idea down, but he doesn’t. “Okay. I’m free on Saturday. We should probably meet at one of our places, though. Not sure the library is the best place to be watching football.”

“Saturday afternoon I have practice, but we can do the evening or morning. ”

“Evening is fine. I’ll bring dinner. Your place? I figure it’ll be less distracting if we’re not looking at my mountain of books.”

I blink at him. I definitely expected him to be… different from this. He’s so open. And confident. It’s slightly disarming. “Okay, sounds good.” Although, we’ll still be looking at a mountain of books at my place.

He smiles. “Once I understand enough to tie everything together for you, we’ll tackle history.”

I can’t help but laugh at his unintended pun. “Tackle, huh? You’re already sounding like a football guy.”

His cheeks flush and his eyes dart away. “Don’t get used to it. What time is practice over?”

“Five. So I should be ready for you around five-thirty.”

“Perfect.” He stands, collecting all my notes and organizing them into a neat pile before handing them to me. “And if this method doesn’t work, we’ll find another way, yeah? Don’t get discouraged.”

“I’ll try.” I’ve been pretty damn discouraged for years, but hopefully this is my light at the end of the tunnel.

I watch in silence as Darcy gathers his things and slings his bag over his shoulder. “Oh. I need your number or something. Unless you’d rather I just email?”

“You can have my number.” He takes his phone out and I rattle it off to him.

“Great, I’ll text you to get the details on where you live.” He makes it two steps before turning back. “Oh, and West? You should probably start my education with what a snap is because when I say I have not a clue what that even means, I’m so serious.”

I laugh, way louder than I mean to, and am rewarded with a shush and glare from a girl at the next table. “See you on Saturday, Darcy. And thank you. ”

“Not a problem at all.” He gives me a little wave and heads out of the library. I watch him the entire time he walks away, an odd fluttering sensation in my chest. I have no idea why I’m so shocked by him, but for the first time, maybe ever, I’m actually excited about the prospect of studying history.

Ben slams the locker shut, then sits down to pull his shoes on. “Hey, wanna grab pizza after practice?”

“Nah, man. Can’t.” I sit down beside him to put my own shoes on.

He nudges my side, laughing softly. “Hot date or something?”

My chest goes a little tight. Strange. “Or something.”

It’s not that I don’t trust the guys on the team, and as far as friendships go, I’d say Ben is probably the closest thing I have to one, but I’m just not sure I’m ready to share Darcy. Not only that, but I’m certainly not ready to share how badly I’m fucking up in history.

“That’s pretty vague.”

I laugh. It was intentionally vague. “I’m aware.”

Ben scoffs. “Am I to assume that it’s vague because it’s none of my business?”

I finish tying my shoes and turn to him. “That would be a good assumption.”

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. You can keep your secrets… for now. But next time you’re free? Pizza, yes?”

“Definitely.” I like Benson. He’s a good player. A good guy to have in your corner. Hell, he’s really just a good guy in general .

Ben grabs his helmet from the bench beside him, resting it on his knee as he turns to face me. “I’m not ready to be out in this heat.”

Thankful for the subject change, I stand, grabbing my helmet as well. “God, me neither. Hopefully practice goes quickly, though.” Partly because the heat sucks ass, and partly because I’m some strange mix of excited and nervous as hell for Darcy to come over.

I’ve read his message to me confirming the time no less than seven times this morning. He’s… intriguing. And I definitely want to get to know him better. It’s really quite novel that he’s coming over to learn football for the sole purpose of being able to help me understand history. His dad did say he had a way of making things understandable to others. Maybe it’s just that he learns what makes people tick and uses that to their advantage.

Ben stands. “Well, we better get out there so Coach doesn’t get his panties in a twist about us being late.”

I give him a fist bump and we head out of the locker room and onto the field. The heat is immediately sweltering. It’s the type of heat that makes your clothes stick to you without you even having to move. “Fuck,” I mumble. “I hope it’s not a conditioning day.”

Ben groans from beside me. “Don’t even speak that into existence, man.”