Page 52 of Changing the Play

I’m not sure anythingwillhelp until I can get my hands on Marcus and make him fucking regret what he did.

My fingers tighten in Darcy’s hair for a second, but I force myself to relax, to go back to my gentle stroking. I need him wrapped up with me. That might be the only thing that keeps me from flying off in a fit of rage and beating the dog shit out of Marcus.

I wonder if it was a coincidence or if he sought Darcy out deliberately just so he could hurt him. Professor Sinclair called about him before the game, but we haven’t exactly been subtle. We hang out all the time. Hell, we get coffee and tea together most mornings before class. I almost kissed him in the coffee shop. And God knows I wasn’t focused on a single thing outside of the way he was looking up at me. It’s not a stretch to think that Marcus could have seen us.

My chest starts burning, so I blow out a deep breath while I try to calm my racing thoughts. I need Darcy in my bed. I need to feel his body wrapped up around mine, but I’m also hesitant to wake him up. I know his face has to be hurting. And now I’m thinking about him hurting again.Goddammit.

I carefully move, cradling Darcy’s head in my hand so I can work my way out from underneath him and stand before laying his head gently on the couch.

His lips turn down in a frown, a furrow forming between his brows, but he doesn’t wake up. Untying his shoes, I take them off one by one and set them on the floor next to the couch before going through and shutting all the lights off. It’s good. Needed. It allows me a second to calm the fuck down. When I make my way back to the couch, I slide my hands under Darcy’s body and lift him, holding him to my chest, and carry him to my room.

His head lolls to the side, falling against my shoulder, and I stop for a second, worried I’ve woken him up. And maybe I have a little, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He just snuggles in a little deeper, breathing out a sigh that has my heart pounding furiously against my ribs.

I finish walking into my room and lay him down on the bed, pulling his phone from his pocket. I’m not sure how he’ll feel about me undressing him in his sleep, but it won’t be comfortable to sleep in jeans, and I can’t handle the thought of making him try. With trembling fingers, I unbutton and unzip them, working them down his thighs and off his legs.

Sleeping in a sweatshirt and briefs is probably not the move, but I’m not going to sit him up to take his shirt off, so I strip down and climb into bed beside him, pulling the blankets up around us. There’s not a chance in hell I’m waiting for him to find his way to me in his sleep.

I need himnow.

I’m slightly worried if I don’t have him wrapped around me, I’m going to get up and go find Marcus, so I move him until he’s sprawled across me. He mumbles a bit in his sleep, his eyes fluttering open as he looks at me in confusion. “Shh, it’s okay,” I whisper.

He gives me a sleepy grin, eyes falling shut as he presses in closer, humming a bit as he gets comfortable. For the first time since he walked in the door bleeding, I feel like I can breathe.

I close my eyes as I let his body against mine ground me. I’m almost asleep when his phone rings and startles the shit out of me. My heart jumps into my throat and I reach over, blindly grabbing for it, squinting at the screen to see that it’s Parker calling. Darcy hasn’t moved or even stirred, so I answer the call.

I don’t have a chance to say hello before their voice is coming through the speaker. “I’m telling you, Darce. Big, macho football players give the best head. Sorry you had to hear it.”

I blink. Then blink again. I’m not sure my brain is even fully aware of what’s happening. Am I dreaming? I pull the phone away from my ear to look at the screen. No. Definitely not dreaming. “I’m sorry,” I murmur. “What?”

There’s a beat of silence. “Oh. You’re not Darcy.”

“I am indeed not Darcy. Holy shit. Are you talking about Ben? Actually, no. Don’t answer that. I truly donotwant to know.”

The silence that follows is awkward and I’m half-tempted to hang up. “Okay. So where’s Darcy? He called me earlier and I said I’d call him back when I was, uh… done.”

Oh for the love of God. “He’s asleep. He had a rough night.”

“What happened?” Parker’s voice is instantly serious, and I love that, although I’m not sure if I should say. “Weston.”

“Don’t Weston me. I’m trying to figure out if he’d be okay with me telling you.”

“We tell each other everything. He heard me getting my dick sucked earlier. Besides, you’re worrying me.”

Jesus fucking Christ. “I’m begging, Parker. Please stop. But… fuck. Marcus, the asshole from my football game, hit him. I’m not fully sure of the circumstances because I was honestly too fucking enraged to ask, but yeah. I got him cleaned up and now he’s asleep.”

“You’re fucking kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

For a long while, Parker doesn’t say anything, but then they let out a frustrated sigh. “Fuck. He probably provoked him, didn’t he?”

Anger boils up inside me. Sharp and hot and unrelenting. I’m not sure that I’ve ever been this mad in my life. My fingers grip the phone too tightly before I take a slow, measured breath to calm myself back down. “Even if he did, Marcus had no fucking right to put his hands on him.”

“No. Of course he didn’t. But Darcy has a mouth, and he’s not one to stand down. It’s gotten him in trouble before. He doesn’t know how to be chill.”

And he shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t let anyone treat him badly. I glance down, happy to find he’s still sleeping, his face relaxed and peaceful. It allows me the smallest bit of breathing room, just enough that I can shove the stifling rage back down. I’m a fucking mess. “Is Ben still with you?”

Parker lets out a startled laugh. “I thought you didn’t want to know about him.”

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