Page 19 of Changing the Play

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 Ican’tunderstand 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.”

---