Page 9

Chapter 9

Weston

S eeing Darcy all flustered is kind of adorable. He’s usually so put together that knowing he’s all flushed and nervous because of me is a hell of an ego boost. Which is not something I thought I’d say.

He’s just… so much smarter than I am. And even if he doesn’t think so, way cooler too. So that I can make him all messed up this way? I love it.

He makes his way slowly to the couch and when he sits down beside me, my back twinges from the motion. I wince, and Darcy picks up on it immediately, his eyes shooting to mine in concern. “Are you okay? Did you pull a muscle giving me crap at the door?”

I bark out a laugh. “No. Although that would have been way cooler. I messed it up somehow at practice today.”

“Oh. Well, now I feel bad. ”

I turn to look at him and he doesn’t look like he feels bad at all. I shake my head with a grin, leaning forward to pick up my laptop. It twinges my back again, forcing a sharp gasp through my clenched teeth.

“Jesus. That doesn’t sound good. Shouldn’t you be doing something for that?” Darcy asks. “Soaking in an ice bath or something?”

That sounds like the worst thing ever. “No. I’ll be alright. I’ll get Ben to put some Icy Hot on it tomorrow before practice.”

“I can do it.”

I look at Darcy, a little surprised. “Yeah? Even though I gave you shit when you got here?”

He shrugs, his cheeks pinking up. “I don’t mind.”

I smirk, feeling smug all over again that I can make him blush like that. That’s probably a little strange. “Are you sure? You know that means you’ll have to touch me, right?” I lean in a little, enjoying the slight hitch in his breath when I get close. “My bare skin, even.”

He glares at me. “Yes, I’m fully aware. Now come on, you big baby. Let’s get you taken care of. We can’t very well watch football with you whining every few minutes.”

“I was not whining.”

Darcy shrugs, smiling like maybe he’s the one feeling smug now. “You were. But that’s alright. I won’t tell anyone the big, bad quarterback was being a whiny baby.”

I cross my arms over my chest, only barely resisting the urge to stick my tongue out at him. “No one would believe you even if you did.”

Darcy laughs. “Yeah. You keep telling yourself that, big guy.”

I stand, reaching out a hand to help him off the couch. “Come on.”

He places his hand in mine and stands. The brief contact makes my fingers tingle and my stomach swoop. Huh. He follows me wordlessly into my bedroom where I have the Icy Hot .

“Oh crap. You have a TV in here.”

“Uh, yes?” I say, grabbing the tube off my dresser and handing it to him.

He looks from it to me. “So, why isn’t it in the living room?”

“Well…” I glance around. “I like to read in the living room and watch TV in bed. I could only afford the one since my dad won’t help me pay for anything, and I just like it better in here.”

Darcy nods. “Well, we should watch football in here then.”

In my bedroom? There’s really nowhere to sit, though. Well, apart from the bed, I suppose. “Yeah?”

“Why not?”

Hard to argue with that. Because truthfully, why not? Also, stretching out instead of sitting up will probably help my back. “Okay. I’m in.”

He smiles brightly at me, then uncaps the Icy Hot. “Okay, on your stomach. Tell me where it hurts.”

I do as he says, climbing onto my bed and lying on my stomach, my arms tucked under my head and my face turned toward him. He swallows hard, stepping to the edge of the bed. “Where is it hurting?”

My stomach gives a little twist at the thought of him touching me. I kind of want to say everywhere. “Under my right shoulder blade.”

Darcy nods, squeezing some Icy Hot onto his fingers. He steps closer. Close enough that I can feel his warmth and smell the slightly faded scent of whatever cologne he wears.

I only barely manage to fight down a groan when his cool fingers push into the sore muscle of my back. Whether it’s because of his hands on me or the hint of pain that radiates from the spot is unknown.

He presses deeper, rubbing the Icy Hot into my skin, his strong fingers soothing the throbbing muscle with each pass he makes. “The muscle is really tight here,” he murmurs, almost to himself, as he works his fingers deeper.

It feels good. A little too good, honestly. My dick swells, hardening against the bed. Oh shit. What the hell? He keeps massaging my back, strong fingers working the knot loose, but making my cock stiffen further. “That’s good. Thank you,” I say, sitting up quickly and dropping my hands into my lap to cover myself, just in case.

Darcy steps away. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I was just trying to work the tension loose a little.”

I’m definitely uncomfortable, but not in the way he’s probably thinking. I give him a smile. “You didn’t. You ready for football?”

He’s a little hesitant, but finally nods. “Let me go grab the cookies?”

I forgot all about the cookies. “Yeah, for sure. I’ll get the game started while you’re doing that.”

He turns on his heel and walks out of the bedroom. I let out a deep breath, trying to get myself to calm down and relax. By the time he comes back into the room, my dick has chilled out, and I’ve got the game pulled up on the TV.

Darcy stands awkwardly by the door, curious eyes exploring, like he wasn’t just in here. His gaze finds the stack of books in the corner, and his lips tilt up into a smile as he looks at them. “Wow.” He absently sets the box of cookies on the end of my bed and steps toward the books, picking up the one on top of the stack. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. “This is quite the collection.”

I shrug, my cheeks heating. “I like the classics.”

“I can tell. My mom does too. She’s an English lit professor here. That’s how I got my name.” He runs his fingers reverently down the stack of books. “You know I never asked. What are your plans after graduation?”

“I want to teach English. High school level, though. ”

He nods, setting the book down and turning to face me. He climbs onto the bed beside me, adjusting until his back is resting against the headboard and he’s turned to face me. “Because of your English teacher? Mrs. Jackson, right?”

He remembered. That makes something warm spread through me. “Yeah.” I smile, moving until I’m lying down and staring up at the ceiling. “She changed my life. She’s the reason for my love of reading. She helped me more than any other teacher. I want to honor her memory. But I also want to be to other kids what she was for me.”

Darcy makes a soft noise. “Her memory?”

I nod, the familiar tears burning my eyes. “Yeah,” I croak before clearing my throat. “She passed away last year after a long fight with breast cancer.”

He rests his hand on my bicep, giving it a little squeeze. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks. I didn’t even get a chance to tell her what I wanted to do. She, um, was fighting, and it didn’t seem right. And then she took a turn and passed away before I had the chance.” I chuckle a little, wiping at my eyes. “Sorry for being a… what did you call me? Whiny baby?”

I expect him to laugh, and when he doesn’t, I glance at him. He looks serious, his eyes searching my face. “There’s nothing wrong with being emotional. It doesn’t make you whiny. It makes you human. It makes you real. She sounds like an amazing woman. She would be really proud to know you’re following in her footsteps and that she was the inspiration for that.”

His words almost make me cry more. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He smirks. “I usually am.”

I can’t help but laugh. The emotional moment is broken, thankfully, and I hit play on the football game. Darcy leans down to grab the cookies, then settles in beside me before opening the box and handing one over to me.

“You’re joking!” Darcy yells as he sits up midway through the third quarter, startling me.

“What?”

He blinks at me, incredulous. “That was clear pass interference. So what? They just do what they want? They aren’t even going to call it?”

My jaw drops open in shock. “Are you going to be the type to yell at the TV like they can hear you?”

He ignores my question, barreling on with his indignation like he didn’t even hear me. “What’s the point of having that penalty if they aren’t going to call it? Ridiculous.”

I chuckle. “Wait until you see them miss a blatant face mask call.”

He slumps against the bed. “Football is annoying. I hate you for making me invested.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

He breathes an annoyed sound that makes me smile. He’s fucking adorable. In like, the most platonic way there is.

By the time the game is over, he’s still stewing over it. “They won, Darcy. You don’t have to be so upset about it.”

He huffs, sitting up again. “I don’t care that they won. I care that they didn’t follow their own rules. It’s crap.”

I bite my lip to keep myself from smiling. “That’ll happen from time to time.”

“It shouldn’t. You play football, West. Why is this not infuriating to you?”

“It’s part of it. Sometimes you get the calls and sometimes you don’t. ”

He blinks down at me. “You better turn on a movie or something. I’m tired of football right now.”

I hand him the TV remote, not at all concerned with picking a movie. I’ll watch whatever he wants. I’m just happy he’s not leaving yet. He puts on some comedy that I’ve never seen.

“Do you want to get under the blankets?” I ask. He turns to me in surprise. “I can even get you some sweats or something if you want to get more comfortable.”

“Sure,” he says, grinning. “That’d be awesome.”

He pauses the movie and I jump up, opening my dresser and handing him a pair of my sweats. He takes them before heading out of the room. I take the time to turn the blankets down while I’m waiting.

When he walks back in, my heart does a weird little flutter. He’s wearing my clothes. Why is that making my heart do crazy shit? It shouldn’t be.

I force myself to drag my eyes away from him and climb under the covers. Darcy wastes no time climbing in beside me and I hit play.

I’ve never seen this, but I’m not really paying it much attention. I’m far too focused on the warmth of Darcy beside me—his soft chuckles, and his loud belly laughs. I find myself closing my eyes so I can focus better on the sound of his breathing and the joyful sound of his laughter.

I’m so glad he didn’t want to leave after football. I can’t believe that it’s only been a few weeks, and I think Darcy may very well be the best friend I’ve ever had.

I’m warm.

Very warm. Almost too warm.

Something is pressed against me. I’m in the midway point between sleep and wake, my eyes still too tired to open, my body still too heavy from sleep to really be bothered by that.

There’s a noise and a gust of air against my throat.

My eyes fly open as my body rapidly comes online. I’m in my bed. With Darcy. Holy shit. We must have fallen asleep.

I glance down to see his dark mop of hair and not much else. His leg is hitched over my thighs, his arm tossed over my stomach, and his face tucked against my neck.

The gust of air was his breath. From his lips. His lips that are pressed against my throat.

My stomach does a violent flip.

This is fine. It’s really okay. I just need to figure out a way to get out from underneath him without waking him up. He shifts, and I freeze, even though I wasn’t really moving to begin with.

He wiggles against me, and my heart starts pounding when I feel something hot and hard press against my hip. Oh, holy shit, he’s hard. My throat goes dry. I force myself to take deep breaths.

It’s normal. Morning wood. Biology. I may suck at history, but I understand how the body works well enough. I fill my lungs slowly before blowing out the breath through pursed lips, repeating the process until I’m calmer.

Darcy shifts again, a soft, whimpery sound catching in his throat. If I was aware of him before, I’m hyperaware now. The warmth of his body. His fingers flexing on the bare skin of my side. His lips pressed against my throat. A shiver rocks my body, my stomach swooping and my heart racing .

I try to force myself to relax, but my body is already betraying me, my cock hardening.

Fuck.

I have to move before he wakes up and realizes I’m hard. He’s going to freak out. Probably think I’m some sort of fucking creep and stop hanging out with me.

I start to untangle myself from him, and he moves, pressing his erection into my hip. I gasp, my own cock throbbing. This is so fucking inappropriate.

It’s normal, though. Only it’s not. Because, unlike Darcy, I’m not asleep. And I was not hard when I woke up. I have to get out of this bed.

I try again to scoot out from under him, and I make it a little further this time, managing to get one of my legs out from under his. He sighs and once again I’m frozen in place. I’d almost laugh if I wasn’t so worried it would wake him up and he’d never talk to me again. He presses impossibly closer, and his nose brushes along my throat. For a second, I forget how to breathe, and my heart feels like it’s trying to pound its way out of my chest.

I’m debating the merits of waking him up and then running out of my bedroom like my ass is on fire when he groans and rolls to his back.

A strange mix of relief and absolute disappointment washes over me.

Mission accomplished, though, I guess. At least now, he’s not going to wake up hating me for… whatever the fuck is happening to my dick right now.