Page 73 of Changing the Play

West pulls back, confusion on his face. “Oh, so you mean you can cuddle when you’re awake too and not just when you’re dead to the world?”

It appears West is a uses humor to cope type. I can work with that. As long as he lets me snuggle the absolute crap out of him too. “I think you’ll find I give exceptional cuddles.”

He brushes his thumb along my cheekbone, swallowing hard as he stares at me. “Yeah,” he says, voice softer now, more subdued. “I think I’d really like some cuddles.”

Without a word, I lead him to his bedroom. He gives me a sad smile as I lift his shirt and pull it over his head before unbuttoning his jeans and tugging them down his hips. He steps out of them, climbing into bed when I point at it. After stripping down quickly myself, I climb in after him, adjusting the blankets until they’re covering us. I hold my arms open and he scoots close to me, resting his head on my shoulder.

I brush a kiss over his forehead and pull him in tighter, wrapping him up in my arms and playing idly with the tips of his hair. “For what it’s worth, I had a lot of fun on our second date.”

West sighs. “I’m sorry it got ruined.”

“It didn’t get ruined at all. Sure, I’m sad that you’re sad, but I still had a lot of fun, and being wrapped up in bed with you is hardly a hardship, even if the circumstances leading up to it suck.”

“Youarean exceptional cuddler. I’ll give you that.” He’s got a little grin in his voice and I love to hear it. I had big plans for coming home. I wanted to see how many times I could make him come apart, how many moans and whimpers I could draw out of him, but truthfully? This is nice. More than nice. I snuggle deeper, closing my eyes as West lets out another sigh, more content this time.

I’m not sure if it’s the stress of life with midterms and football or the confrontation with his dad—I guess it’s likely both—but it takes practically no time at all for West’s breathing to even out. His weight grows heavier against me, his body going lax, and a smile I couldn’t fight if I tried spreads across my face.

I’ve typed and retyped the same sentence no less than seven times. There’s nothing wrong with it, per se. It’s just… the words aren’t wording the way I need them to. It’s frustrating.

Plus, I’m distracted. If not by the sound of Parker’s frantic brushstrokes and the heavy metal they’re playing, then by my own thoughts. I groan as I backspace again.

“What’s wrong?”

I lift my eyes and find Parker staring at me over the top of the white canvas in front of them. Black paint is streaked through their blonde hair and across their cheek, and there’s an almost wild look in their eyes. Explains the frantic paint strokes, though, and the music. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Park raises an eyebrow. “Okay, so why all the doom and gloom and huffing and whining?”

I huff, proving their point. “I’m not huffing and whining.”

Parker stares at me, clearly unimpressed. We both know I’m full of crap. “Sure, sure.”

Their eyes fall to the canvas, and I watch in fascination as they start painting again. There’s something so satisfying about watching Parker paint. It’s like they get taken over by someone else. Like they’re havingan out-of-body experience. The muse, maybe. I wouldn’t know anything about that, since I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.

I sigh heavily and look at my computer. My fingers move over the keys and I huff again, backspacing the sentence I just typed.

The music stops and I dart my eyes to Parker. “Seriously, Darce, what’s the problem? Missing West?”

Ugh. “Don’t say it like that. It makes me sound pathetic.”

Parker laughs. “If it’s the truth…”

“Shut up.”

Idomiss him, but I’m also capable of spending an evening alone, right? It’s not like he won’t be back later. I can handle one freaking night without him. I’m not even on my own. I’m at Parker’s, trying to work on this stupid paper while they work on their newest piece. West deserves to celebrate his team’s win without me there.

“I don’t know why you didn’t just go out when they invited us.”

I glare at Parker. “Because I have to get this paper done.” I’ve been putting it off. It’s difficult to be motivated about a term paper when I can spend all my free time with West instead.

Parker hums. “How much have you gotten done?”

I glance down at my measly word count. “Seven words.”

Parker’s cackling laughter has my cheeks heating as I roll my eyes. “We should have just gone with them.”

“Yeah,” I sigh, closing my laptop. “Too late now.”

“Is it?” Parker asks, shrugging. “Ben texted me a bunch of pictures and pinned his location to me. He said we’re free to join at any time.”

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