Page 33 of Changing the Play

He’s not wrong, but my God. “Let’s just order.”

I start walking toward the counter, but I’m pulled back by a hand around my forearm. West tugs me to him, close enough that our chests are almost brushing. “You’re not mad, are you?” he asks, searching my eyes.

I grumble a bit, but I’m not actually mad, so I shake my head. “No. Parker’s just… so freaking annoying.”

“I kind of like them. I hope we can hang out more in the future.”

Oh, that’s never going to happen. “I’m not so sure about that.”

West’s expression shutters. “You don’t want me to hang out with your friends?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s… ugh. Parker might scare you off.”

For a long while, he doesn’t say anything, and being caught in his stare feels way more intense than it has any right to. His grip on my forearm is firm, but not too tight, and I’m honestly a little surprised that he hasn’t let go of me yet.

His fingers flex against my skin and when I think he’s going to let go, he surprises me by bringing his free hand up to brush along my bottom lip. His eyes drop as he uses his thumb to press in and pull my lip down, forcing them to separate. His own lips part when mine do.

The contact sends electricity down my spine and forces a stuttering breath from my lungs. Oh God. What is he doing?

His throat bobs with a heavy swallow before he brings his eyes to mine. “I’m not sure anything could scare me off at this point, Darcy.”

I swear the entire world tilts under my feet.

West pulls his thumb away from my lip, and my tongue darts out instinctively, wetting the spot where it was. His eyes follow the movement, pupils dilating as he stares at my mouth. This is not like the barely there glances from before. It’s deliberate. Lingering. And it has my heart pounding so hard that it’s making me a little dizzy.

I can’t even speak—my breath caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat, useless and stuck.

He lets his hand fall from my arm and gently nudges me. “Come on. Let’s go get coffee.”

I follow him because, well, what else am I supposed to do? Melt into a puddle on the floor because West freaking Hale just touched my lip and then stared at me for a solid five seconds like he was debating the merits of replacing his thumb with his mouth?

I’ve just made it to the counter when I hear West order my peppermint tea. It brings a smile to my face despite everything else. Despite the way I’m internally losing it and trying to act like I’m not.

When the drinks are done, West grabs them both and leads me to a table in the corner. I say leads me, but in reality all he does is walk over to it, and I’m helpless to resist the pull.

I sit down across from him, grasping the tea in both hands and bringing it to my lips.

“So,” West says, startling me a bit. “What are you doing this weekend?”

“I’m not really sure.”

He smiles at me. “You should come to my game.”

Weston Hale in football pants. That would indeed be a sight to see. “Yeah? I’d like that. Can I bring Park?”

“Sure,” West says, chuckling a little. “You just want someone around you can enjoy football pants with.”

Not true at all. I can enjoy football pants all on my own. “Guilty,” I say with a wink.

West shakes his head, an amused sparkle in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything.

We sit in comfortable silence while we sip on our drinks, and I people watch. I love people watching. It’s easily one of my favorite things to do. You learn a lot by watching people and how they interact with each other and the world around them.

“Hey.” West nudges my leg with his foot under the table.

“Yeah?” I ask, turning to him.

“After the game, maybe we can go to dinner?”

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