Page 4

Chapter 4

Darcy

I ’m staring at my phone, willing time to move faster. I’ve never once even thought about football. Not once. Now, though? I’m curious. Interested, even. I’m telling myself that it’s not because of West. Or at least not because of him , but how I can make this work for him. I’m not sure that I’ve quite convinced myself.

It’s one thing to see him around, passing him on campus, or across the room, or even at the coffee shop. It’s something else entirely to be a foot away from him, watching the excitement building in his eyes as he elaborates on plays and snaps and whatever else he was going on about. I didn’t understand a single word, and yet he had me captivated.

I’ve spent the better part of an hour watching a video on YouTube to try to understand football. It’s not working. I’m not used to not understanding something I’m trying to learn about. I’m hopeful that West will explain it better. Or at least well enough for me to make comparisons for him. This is uncharted territory for me.

I glance at the clock again. It’s only a few minutes until five. I’m full of anxious energy, and sitting around here isn’t going to help me at all. Mind made up, I shut down the YouTube video on my laptop and slide it into its case.

By the time I’m walking up the stairs to Weston’s apartment, pizza in one hand, my bag slung over my shoulder, it’s only 5:15. I couldn’t wait anymore, though. I’m… excited about this, I think.

I love being able to help people connect the dots. West, though? He’s so wildly different from what I thought he would be that I have to admit, I’m curious about him.

When I make it to his door, I knock. I’m not sure if he’s even back yet, but if he’s not, it’s not a big deal. I can wait.

For a minute, there’s no answer, and I start to take a step back so I can sit on the floor outside the door when it swings open. I almost swallow my tongue. West’s standing in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist. My eyes start at his feet and follow the lines of his body. From his muscular calves, to the swell of his cock under the towel, up to his wide chest. There are droplets of water clinging to his skin and… just and … I don’t even have words. “Hey,” he says, interrupting my objectifying. “You’re early. Sorry I’m not ready yet.”

I force my eyes up, my face on fire. “Yeah, I’m sorry.” My mouth feels dry, and it’s not made any better when he flashes me a bright smile.

He points at the pizza in my hands. “Can I take that for you?”

“Oh.” I glance over at the box balanced on my palm. “Don’t you wanna?” I nod toward his half-naked body .

His cheeks flush bright red. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry. I forget that walking around half-dressed isn’t the norm for most people. It’s pretty standard for the locker room.”

The way I don’t have a single complaint about that at all. But also, I’m like a millisecond away from drooling. “Hey, no worries. I was early.”

West grins. Then we just kind of stare awkwardly at each other. He blinks, the smile never leaving his face. I’m trying with all my might to keep my eyes in a respectable place, but I really need this man to let me in and go put some clothes on. West clears his throat, shaking himself a little. “Right. Well, come in. I’ll just… go get dressed.”

He gestures for me to come in. When I step in, he takes off in the direction of what I’m assuming is his bedroom. I set the pizza on the counter and look around. I’m nosy. Sue me.

I make my way over to the couch, stopping when I see a worn copy of Pride and Prejudice sitting on the arm. It’s clearly old, and well-loved, like it’s been read multiple times.

I pick it up and open the front page. There’s a handwritten note. I know I shouldn’t read it, but I’m so curious about West that I can’t help it.

Follow your dreams, West. You can do anything you set your mind to. Mrs. Jackson

I trace the words with my fingers, smiling despite myself, before placing the book down where I found it .

“My high school English teacher gave it to me.” West’s voice startles me and I look up to find him standing behind the couch. For someone so large, he sure is light on his feet. “She inspired me a lot.”

I nod. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to snoop. Well, I was, actually, but I shouldn’t have been.”

He shrugs, an easy grin on his face. “I wouldn’t have left it out if I meant for it to be a secret.”

“That’s fair, but still.”

He comes around the couch, and I almost fall out on the floor. Gray sweats. Gray freaking sweatpants. First half-naked, and now this. I’ll never make it through his football lesson. “So. Pizza?” He’s got a boyish grin on his face and my stomach does a little swoop. Not good. Not good at all. I can’t find him attractive. I’m here to help him. That’s all.

“Yeah.” My voice sounds a little croaky, so I clear my throat. “Pizza. I got plain pepperoni. I hope that’s okay.”

West smiles, grabbing the pizza off the counter and setting it down on the table before plopping down on the couch. “Yeah, I’m totally fine with anything. I’m starving.”

He pats the spot next to him. I will have to sit down beside him to do football lessons, so, yeah, I’ll just… I sit down, acutely aware of the heat of his body beside me. This couch is not big enough.

Parker is going to make fun of me when they find out I find West attractive. I’m so not ready for that. Not at all. “Are you okay?”

I turn to find West watching me, a piece of pizza in his hand. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

He takes a bite of his pizza, then licks the grease off his lower lip with a little groan. Haha. I’m being punished. This is a joke, right? I take a slice of pizza and inconspicuously scoot closer to the end of the couch to put some extra space between us .

We eat our pizza in mostly silence. I say mostly because while I’m quiet, West is not. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone take such joy in eating before, and it’s making things a little uncomfortable for me. His little groans shouldn’t be so distracting. That’s not even taking into account the little happy dance I can feel him doing every once in a while as he eats.

It’s a feat of my self-control to not look at him. It’s bad enough on its own without actually seeing him. When he’s finally done eating, he sits back. “Are you ready for a football education?”

I take a couple of deep breaths, then turn to him. “As ready as I’m going to be.”

He does that smile again and nods. “Great. I picked a game last night to show you. I figured we could watch it and I could explain things as they’re happening, and if you have any questions, you can ask.”

I nod. Mostly because I don’t trust my voice.

West gets his laptop set up on his lap. “You may have to come a little closer.”

Terrible idea. Awful, really, but I move a little closer anyway. He sinks into the couch, getting comfortable, spreading his legs just enough that his thigh brushes against mine. I have to fight to not jerk away from him. Get it together, Darce. This is not how you act if you don’t want the straight guy to find out you think he’s hot. Just be normal.

West doesn’t even seem to notice. He opens a web browser and hits play on the video. “So college and NFL have different rules, but this is an NFL game.”

Why do they have different rules? That seems so stupid and counterproductive. Players have to learn a whole new set of rules if they make it to the NFL? I genuinely don’t even know what to say to that, but I know I’m not going to be rude and rag on the thing West loves. “Okay. So, who are the teams?”

“This is a Bills game. They’re playing the Dolphins.”

I nod, even though that means nothing to me. “Okay, and who do we like?”

“We?” West snorts. “We like the Bills.”

I grin. “Cool. Do they win?”

He laughs. It’s loud and happy, and it almost stops my heart. Not good. Not good at all. I’m freaking out a bit. “Yeah, they win. I wouldn’t show you a game of them losing.”

That’s a fair point. “Okay, Coach. I’m ready to learn.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, turning his attention to the computer screen. He points as the game goes on, talking about routes, penalties, and strategy. I don’t understand half of what he’s saying, but I find myself leaning closer, completely enamored with the excitement and passion in his voice.

He pauses the game and rewinds it a bit. “So here,” he says, pointing to the screen. “This is a holding call. See how he grabs his jersey. That’s illegal.”

I nod, trying to keep up. “Okay, so they’ll lose yards, right?”

“Right. Each play is hopefully being made to gain yardage, but at times, you get a penalty, and you lose it. Other times you get sacked.”

“What’s that mean?” I ask, interrupting him.

“It’s when the quarterback gets tackled before he either throws or passes off the ball behind the line of scrimmage.”

I nod. “Okay. Makes sense.” It doesn’t. Not really. It makes a little sense. I’m following in like… the broadest way. At least it’s easier to understand now than it was on the video I was trying to watch. “So each play is meant to move you forward, right? But occasionally, it doesn’t work, and you lose yards instead? ”

“You’ve got it. And sometimes, you don’t gain or lose. Like if there’s a dropped pass. You stay in the same field position.”

I nod to myself, making a mental note of that. “Historical strategies are much the same. Like battle lines shifting during wars. Each action is done with the hopes that you’ll advance in your objective. But sometimes, the countermove pushes you back. Other times it doesn’t.”

West glances at me, his eyebrow raised. “Huh. I didn’t look at it that way.”

“We’ve just got to find the connections to make it relevant.”

We go back to watching the game. West keeps a running monologue the entire time, breaking down each play. A couple of times, he goes backward to show me something again that I didn’t quite understand the first time. Not once does he seem impatient or put out with my lack of knowledge. Not that I really expected anything different. If you had asked me before I met him on Wednesday, I might have, but he’s surprised me in more ways than one.

When the game is over, I feel a little bereft. It took us almost five hours to watch it, and it’s closing in on midnight, but for some reason it doesn’t feel like that much time has passed. Part of me doesn’t want to go home, but I also know I can’t stay here. I came to learn about football so I could make connections for West, and even though my overall knowledge is still small, I do feel more equipped to handle that task.

The screen has gone dark, and West and I are sitting in silence. “Would you like to order in? I could go for something sweet.”

I find myself nodding without even thinking about it. I know I have no business saying yes. I also know that spending any time with him outside of our tutoring sessions is bound to end up badly. I find him fascinating. I’m drawn to him. And that will only hurt me in the end. I should be telling him no and setting up our next tutoring session. “What did you have in mind?”

He sits up, pure excitement on his face. “There’s this hole in the wall place down the road. I’m telling you, Darcy, they have cookies that are to die for. Like died and gone to Heaven good.”

I chuckle. “Okay, I’m in.”

His face lights up, and he pulls his phone out. “What’s your poison? They have basically everything you can imagine, but I’m a sucker for their double brownie fudge. It basically melts in your mouth, and it’s sweet without being too sweet. Holy shit. So good.”

“I’m a classic chocolate chip guy myself, but you’re making a strong case for the other.”

He starts dialing a number. “I’ll just get a variety pack. I can’t let you leave without reaching cookie nirvana.”

I laugh, sitting patiently while he places the order. As we wait for the cookies to arrive, my eyes gravitate to the book still sitting on the arm of the couch. “You said you read it in high school.”

West cocks his head to the side. “Huh?”

I point at the book. “ Pride and Prejudice . You said you read it in high school.”

“Ah.” His cheeks flush pink, and he lets out a small chuckle, sounding a little embarrassed. “Yeah, so I did. The first time. I’ve read it a lot.”

I don’t think I’ve ever been so enthralled with another person before. “How much is a lot?”

He rubs his hand over his nape, not quite meeting my eyes. “Once every couple of weeks.”

For a long moment, all I can do is blink at him because… what?

I pride myself on not believing every stereotype about people. I mean, goodness, I’m a complete history nerd, but my best friend is a starving artist, and they frequently drag me into things I’d never do on my own. I’m not the stereotype that other people often think I am.

But I have to admit, Weston Hale continues to surprise me.