Page 6

Chapter 6

Darcy

T he coffee shop is a little crowded today. It’s strange for a Monday, but that’s alright. I tucked myself away in the corner, and haven’t been bothered since the barista brought my tea to me. Since I had a couple of hours before my first class, I figured now would be as good a time as any to work on a strategy for West.

I glance at my notes with a smile on my face.

There’s still a lot I need to learn about football to feel like I can use this to our full advantage, but I think I’ve got a good start. I’ve made little diagrams, breaking down historically significant events into “quarters” and have broken those down even smaller into “plays.” I’m not overly artistic, but I didn’t really need to be.

Googling what the play looked like on paper made it a lot easier to make x’s for each figure who had a role in the events. Adding little notes about each one was the icing on the cake.

I want to roll my eyes at myself. I really am a freaking nerd.

The truth is, I really do simply enjoy helping other people. And I get to hang out with West learning about football? Win. I was not kidding about those pants. I wonder what West looks like in his. I let out a little sigh that quickly turns into a yelp when someone squeezes my shoulder.

Parker’s obnoxious laughter echoes behind me and I turn around to glare at them. “You scared me half to death, Park.”

“I can tell. What are you working on?”

Parker peeks over my shoulder, so I cover the notes with my hands. Wrong choice, clearly. Now I’ve made it a game, and it’s going to be even worse.

“Oh. You’re blushing. Now I really have to see. You never blush.”

No freaking way. “Nope. None of your business.”

They stick their lower lip out in a pout. Ugh. “Fine.” I gesture to the seat across from me and hand over the notebook.

Parker picks it up, scanning the page with an amused smirk. “For West?”

My heart rate spikes. “How do you know?”

They set the notebook down, raising an eyebrow at me. “It’s pretty clear, Darce. It’s based on football plays. How do you even know this?”

“He’s teaching me about football,” I mumble, looking anywhere but at them.

Parker’s fingers drum on the table. “You’re using football as a way to get to know him? That’s cute. I never thought you’d be the type to get into a sport for the attention of a guy.”

I groan. Of course they would think that. “It’s not like that at all, Park. He needs help. He’s good at football. You know I like to make relatable comparisons. It’s like… the easiest way to teach people. To compare it to something they already know.”

Parker nods. “I’m aware of your teaching style.” They lean forward, bracing their elbows on the table. “That doesn’t explain why you’re blushing. Or the wistful sigh you let out before I scared you. You like him.”

I groan. “I like him. Which is…”

“Totally fine,” Parker interjects.

“A terrible idea,” I finish. “He’s a macho football player, Park. First off, how am I supposed to not act affected by him? Especially when he’s sending me winky faces in texts. And second off…” I’m not actually sure if I have a second off. Oh yes, that’s right. “Second off, it’s not good. There’s no way he would ever return my feelings. Big. Macho. Football. Player.” I emphasize each word with a clap and a pointed look at Parker.

They laugh. “Oh, Darce, you sweet summer child. You have no clue how many big, macho football players I’ve had in my bed, do you?”

I groan, dragging my hands over my face. “I don’t need to hear about your conquests. Like truly none of my business. But also, of course you have, Park. I mean, you own a mirror, right? You have that whole ethereal beauty thing going on.”

Parker grins. “Are you telling me you think I’m beautiful, Darcy?” They flutter their long lashes at me.

I roll my eyes. “Oh, shut up. You do not need me to feed your ego.”

“No. I don’t. But I appreciate the compliment either way.” They flash me a blinding grin. “But I need more details on the winky faces.”

Crap. I forgot I told them about that. I don’t even hesitate, though. Pulling my phone out, I open my text thread with West and hand the phone over to Parker.

They spend the next few minutes reading over all the messages, their grin turning more and more smug with each swipe of their thumb on the screen. “Oh my.”

“What? Oh my, what?”

Parker hands my phone over to me. “You didn’t tell me he was flirting with you, Darce.”

An incredulous laugh bubbles up and spills out of my lips. “He’s not flirting with me.”

“Okay, so here’s what you’re going to do. When you go tonight, flirt a little, and see if you can—”

“Parker. I am not flirting with him.”

The look on their face is entirely too smug for my liking. “Yeah, that’s not what it looked like in those text messages.”

I drop my face into my hands, trying to hide the blush I know is there. “You’re insufferable.”

“Aww, I love you too, Darce.”

“Please leave so I can finish my notes and my spiral in peace.”

Parker’s laughter has me lifting my head and grinning. “I’ve got to get to the studio anyway. There’s a live model coming in today to pose for us. One of those macho football guys. You know I’m gonna be there with bells on at the chance to draw that.”

“Well… have fun with that.”

Park winks. “You know I will.”

Ugh. Way more information than I need about them.

It’s taken me four attempts to knock on West’s door. It’s quite honestly ridiculous. I have no idea why it makes me so nervous, but after three fails, I finally manage it, and within a couple of seconds, the door swings open.

At least he’s dressed this time. That’s good. Or is it? Nope. It’s definitely good. “Hey.”

He waves at me, but he looks like something’s wrong. His eyes are a little dull and his hair is messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it. “Hey. Come in.”

I do, walking past him into the living room. Act. Normal. “So, I made some notes for us to study. History notes, I should say.”

“That’s cool.”

I turn to look at him, slightly concerned, but mostly wondering if I’ve done something to upset him. Everything seemed fine when we were texting last night, so I’m not sure why there’s such a shift happening right now. “So, do you want to start with history or football?”

He lets out a laugh, but it sounds forced. “Football. I’ll never choose history first.”

I gasp, bringing a hand up to my chest. “You wound me.” West smiles, this time a little more genuine, but still not super convincing. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

He answered way too quickly for it to be the truth, and I have to remind myself that it’s not really any of my business. He said we were friends, and I like that. I want to be his friend. I can definitely be his friend. Maybe we just won’t be the type of friends who confide in each other. Which is also okay. Especially considering we barely know each other, and I need to calm down. “Okay.” I drop my bag onto the floor beside the couch and sit down, waiting for him to join me.

After a brief hesitation, he does, sitting down further away than he did the other night. He doesn’t say a word as he opens his laptop. I’m oddly excited about this, though. Sexy pants aside, football seems interesting. I think if I actually understood it fully, it could be fun to watch.

And hey, even if I can’t understand it, football pants .

West pulls up a game and slumps against the couch, hitting play.

I follow along pretty well. Better than I thought I would, so it takes me until the end of the first quarter to realize that West hasn’t been giving me any commentary at all. I reach out and pause the video. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Literally not convincing at all.

“Lying is an insult to my intelligence.”

His eyes snap to mine, his face turning bright red. “Fuck. I’m sorry. It’s my dad.”

Oh. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want to talk about it?”

He sighs. “Honestly? I’d rather not.” Well, that’s disappointing, but alright. He certainly doesn’t owe me anything. “It’s not anything you did wrong. I just don’t want it to bring down the mood.”

I quirk an eyebrow at him. “So, in case you haven’t noticed, you haven’t given me a single bit of information about this game at all. I’d say it’s bringing down the mood regardless.”

His mouth opens and closes for a few seconds. “I didn’t realize it was so obvious.”

“It’s not,” I lie. Hey, it’s good for thee, but not for me. Plus, I don’t want to make him feel bad. “I’m just freakishly observant.”

He laughs. It’s real and bright, and it sends a flurry of butterflies through my stomach. Ugh. “You know, I believe that about you.” His lips tilt up in a grin, his eyes going a little soft.

Oh no. Absolutely not. Can’t be doing all that. “So,” I say, trying to get us— me —back to emotional safety. “Do we want to put football lessons on hold for now?”

He shakes his head. “No. I’m good. I promise. I just have impossible standards to live up to, and I think the pressure might be killing me.”

That’s… heartbreaking. “Well, I’m always here if you need to talk. No pressure. I think you’re pretty decent, so there’s no worry about trying to impress me.”

“Pretty decent?” he deadpans.

I nod solemnly. “Yes. Above average, even.”

He grins. “Wow. Such high praise.”

I can’t help but laugh. West lets out a sigh. “It’s just… he wants me to be someone I’m not. I wanted to go to school. He wanted me to stay home and work for him. I wanted to play football. He thought it was a waste of time. He’s just not happy with who I am at all, and I refuse to be who he wants me to be. He called me right before you got here. I guess it put me in a mood. I’m sorry.”

Wow. That’s a lot to carry. I reach out a tentative hand, letting my fingers splay across his knee. His eyes follow the motion, and they stay locked on where I’m touching him for a few long seconds before he finally lifts his gaze to mine. “For what it’s worth. I think you’re really awesome.” Ugh. Cringe. “And I don’t think you should change for anyone.”

He blinks at me a few times, seeming to consider my words. “You’re only saying that because I’m teaching you football.”

I pull my hand back with a laugh. “Yeah, you caught me. Now, football? If you tell anyone I told you this, I’ll deny it, but I’m actually enjoying it.”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “You’ll have to come see me play. Well, not me , but like… the te am. The game.”

I smile. “Yeah, I’d love to come see you.” No point in adding the team because I would definitely not be going for them.

We settle against the couch, and West starts the game up again. This time, he explains everything that’s happening. He breaks down the plays, explains stuff like pass rushing and blitzing, and tells me more about penalties.

He points to the screen. “I picked this game because the defense is about to get a safety.”

“What’s that?”

As I watch the defense sack the quarterback in the end zone, he explains what a safety is, and I find myself leaning in closer to him. He’s captivating. It’s so easy to hear his passion.

I’m completely entranced, finding myself holding my breath as the quarterback throws the ball, disappointment rushing through me when they drop the pass. And when the other team intercepts the ball, I gasp. “Oh no.”

West chuckles. “You’re getting it. I didn’t even have to explain that interceptions are bad.”

He adjusts, and his knee brushes against mine. I try very hard to not react at all, keeping my eyes glued on the laptop screen when he lets it linger there for a second.

I think I might really like football. It’s actually interesting. I wonder if West would want to watch live games with me when they come on. I think he may have made an addict—

“Are you gay?” West blurts out, effectively grinding my brain to a halt.

My head snaps in his direction. “What?”

He turns bright red. “Actually, that’s none of my… forget I even said…” He stops and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That was wildly inappropriate.”

I study him for a second. “No. It’s okay.” I move until my leg is no longer touching his. “I am, yes.”

His eyes flick to mine, but I can’t read him at all. “Oh.”

My stomach somehow sinks and twists around itself at the same time, making me instantly nauseous. “Oh,” I echo. “Should I… do you want me to leave?”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No. Shit. No. I’m sorry. I… it doesn’t bother me. I don’t mind. I was just… curious.”

Curious. About my sexual orientation? Why? That doesn’t make any sense. “Why?”

He swallows hard, his throat bobbing up and down. “You said the football pants thing and then I started wondering what you meant by that, and then I don’t know, really. It’s not obvious or anything.”

I have to bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. “Obvious?” I ask.

His eyes widen. “That sounded bad. I don’t mean—It’s not like… fuck. You just don’t…”

This is the real test of my self-control right here. “I don’t look gay? Is that what you were going to say?” I ask, letting the start of a smile creep onto my face.

He nods, but he looks miserable about it. It’s kind of adorable watching him flail a bit. Especially given how self-assured he typically is. “I have to ask—why does it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t,” he answers quickly. “It was just the cookies, and then the football pants.”

The… cookies? I’m really not sure I’m following. At all. “What about the cookies?”

His cheeks turn red. “Nothing. Forget I said anything about the cookies. I just got curious after you said the thing about the pants.” He groans, letting his head fall back against the couch. “I’m so bad at this.”

What even is this ? “I hope you’re better on the field than you are in random social situations.”

He raises up, his mouth dropping open for a second before he bursts into laughter. “I’ll have you know, I’m a fairly decent player.”

I can’t help but grin. “I’m getting pretty good at this football thing. Don’t be too cocky, or I may come for your job.”

West sputters a laugh. “You just want the tight pants.”

I’d much rather look at the guys in the tight pants. “They would be a perk. I’ll be a pro in no time.”

He smiles. Light and carefree and easy all over again. “I’m not sure I can see you suiting up anytime soon.”

I place a hand over my heart, faking offense. “You’re just worried I’d look better in the tight pants than you.”

I’m not sure if joking about my sexuality is the right thing, but maybe if I just put it out there like that, I’ll be able to avoid the awkwardness of my maybe, possibly, very miniscule crush on him. He pauses, scanning my body like he’s actually thinking about it. His eyes settle on mine and he smirks. “Guess we’ll never know.”

“Yeah, I guess not.”

He just stares at me for a second, and there’s so much genuine affection and playfulness in his eyes that I have to look away. “If we’re good, I’d like to get back to this game. You might already know who wins, but I’m on the edge of my seat.”

“I somehow doubt that,” West says, laughing a bit.

He gets comfortable again, clicking play to pick up where we left off. He dives right into his running commentary, and I find myself focusing more on the sound of his voice and the excitement and reverence in his tone than the words themselves.

I can’t help but wonder if it’s the game or him I find so fascinating. I’m almost terrified to dig too deep into it.