Page 36 of Changing the Play

I mean, I do. But none of them sink in.

Instead, I find myself watching his lips move. The way he nibbles on the bottom one in between sentences or when he doesn’t think he’s explaining himself well. The way he moves his hands in the air when he’s particularly excited about something.

I lean closer, completely captivated as he talks.

I know I should be paying attention. This is the whole point, right? Learn from Darcy and pass history so I can keep my scholarship and make my dreams a reality, but I’m having such a hard time focusing.

My heart is pounding, and my stomach is burning with the urge to pull him into my arms and kiss him. I bet his lips would be so soft.

“Don’t you agree?” he asks, effectively cutting off my thoughts.

“Um. Yes?” I agree, trying to pretend I have a clue what he’s talking about.

Darcy narrows his eyes at me. “You aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, are you?”

I nod. “Of course I am.”

He leans back on the couch, crossing his arms over his chest. “Okay then, what was I talking about?”

My breath leaves me in a quick rush because I really have no fucking clue. I could try to bullshit my way through it, but I wouldn’t even know where to start. “I was paying attention.”

“Sure,” he says, tapping his fingers against his arm.

“I wasn’t ignoring you. I was… thinking.”

He gets a little furrow between his brows. “Thinking? About what?”

Kissing you.

I have to physically swallow the words, so I don’t blurt them out. Instead, I clear my throat. “How lucky I am that you’re such a patient and magnanimous tutor.”

Darcy’s fighting a smile, his bottom lip twitching. I give him my best grin and he breaks, rolling his eyes with a smile. “Oh my God. Okay. I’ll go over it again, but you better pay attention this time.”

I nod solemnly. “Yes, sir.”

He sits up with a chuckle, tapping the notebook. “I was talking about the guillotine. When they started using it, they considered it a more humane way of executing someone.”

I force myself to focus. “How did they come to that conclusion?”

“Well, they tested it.” I know he’s still talking, but my eyes have dropped to his lips again, watching the way he forms the words. With my eyes so focused on his mouth, my hearing takes a hike. I manage to get my ears online just in time to hear him say, “Of course, then they started debating if the brain remained conscious—”

“Darcy.” His name is out of my mouth before I even make the decision to say it.

He stops mid-sentence, his eyes finding mine. “Yeah?”

My mouth goes dry, my throat clicking with a heavy swallow. “I—um.”

I’m moving before I can stop myself, lifting my hand and catching a strand of Darcy’s hair between my fingers. His breath hitches as I twirl it around my fingertips. It’s soft. Really fucking soft. Just like his skin. Exactly how I imagined it. I let it fall from my fingers and brush my knuckles over his cheek, down to his jaw.

His lips part and I lean in, my heart pounding and my stomach tightening in anticipation.

I cup his jaw, dragging my thumb over the smooth skin. His breath stutters, warm against my lips. He’s not pulling away. He’s not telling me to stop. He’s staring at me—his eyes wide—expectant, almost.

Fuck. I want to kiss him more than I think I’ve wanted anything else in my life.

I lean in further. My nose brushes his, and fire spreads through my entire body at his sharp intake of breath. His eyes flutter closed, and my own follow suit, my pulse racing.

Just as our lips are about to meet, just as I’m about to cross the line between wanting, wanting, wanting, and finally having, Darcy’s phone rings—loud and shrill.

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