Page 7 of Changing the Play

It’s just that types like him usually make fun of it. It’s obvious they have no idea where it’s from, and subsequently assume it’s a girl’s name. I didn’t want to start things off on a bad foot.

His eyes light up when he sees me, and then he’s coming toward me. It really is unfair for one man to be so… I’m not finishing that sentence. First, my job is to help him. And second, he may be unfairly attractive, but he’s not into men. And even if he was… no way he’d be into me. He stops awkwardly at the side of my table. “Hi. I’m West.”

I almost laugh. As if there’s a person on campus who doesn’t know who he is. “I know.”

“You’re Professor Sinclair’s son, right? I see the resemblance a bit. Damn, I hope you are. Otherwise, this is going to be awkward.”

I do laugh at that. I can’t help it. The rambling is too much. “Yeah, I am,” I say, standing up and holding my hand out for a handshake.

He slips his hand into mine. “Well, thank you so much for agreeing to help me. I’m so in over my head. I’m West.”

I bite my lip against the grin that wants to take over my face as he continues pumping my hand up and down. “Yes, I know. You said that. I’m Darcy.”

His eyes go wide. “Oh, no shit? LikePride and Prejudice?”

That stops me in my tracks. No one ever gets it. I can count on one hand the number of people who have, and not a single one of them has been the school’s football star. It’s a little strange, honestly. I wouldn’t have expected it. “You… knowPride and Prejudice?”

West gives me an easy grin. “Of course.”

I blink at him in surprise. “Have you read it?”

He pulls his hand from mine and shrugs, but I can’t help but notice the flush climbing his cheeks. “Yeah. My freshman year of high school. My English teacher told me it was the most romantic book she’s ever read. Darcy’s kind of a prick at first, but he grows on you. Do you live up to your namesake?”

“My namesake?” I ask, almost to myself.

He laughs. “Yeah. Are you all broody and condescending?”

“I try hard not to be,” I say with a smile. Huh, maybe Dad was right about him. Not that I really had any doubts.

He winks at me. Actually freaking winks. This is not going like I thought it would at all. “Okay.” He takes off his backpack and sitsdown at the table before looking up at me. “Educate me. I’m ready to learn.”

I hope he means that.

Chapter 3

Weston

Darcy’s still standing by the table, staring at me like I’m from another planet. I hope I haven’t already found a way to mess everything up. “Well?” I prompt, gesturing toward the seat across from me.

He seems to snap himself out of it and sits down. I’m trying to project confidence, but his reaction is making me worry that he already thinks I’m a lost cause. “So, uh—Okay. Let’s um…” He clears his throat. “Let’s go over what youdounderstand. That’s where I like to start.”

“Oh. That’ll be easy. Nothing.”

He gets a little furrow between his brows. “Nothing?”

“Pretty much. It’s all the details. The names, the dates, the specifics—it just doesn’t make sense. I study and study andnothing helps. This is my last ditch effort. I asked your dad for extra credit, but he apparently doesn’t do that.”

Darcy shakes his head. “No. He’s pretty against that.”

“Right. So here I am, hoping you can help me figure it out.” I blow out a breath and run a hand through my hair. “I’m a little nervous that I’m a lost cause, but I’ll do anything to understand it. I just…” I drag a hand down my face, nerves firing in my stomach. “Ineedto pass this class. My scholarship is riding on it.”

He leans back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly on the desk between us, and studies me for a long moment before smiling. And damn, what a smile. It puts me instantly at ease. “You’re not a lost cause. We’ll find a way to make it stick, yeah?”

I nod, even though I’m not feeling all that great about my chances. It’s not about his abilities, but mine. I’m sure he’s incredibly smart. I just worry that I’m not. You’d think by now I’d have figured out a way to grasp these concepts. “I’ll take your word for it,” I say, giving him a smile, hoping it comes across more confident than I’m feeling.

“Okay,” he says, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on the table. “Tell me where we’re at.”

I lean over and unzip my backpack, pulling out my history textbook along with my notebook and flashcards. My face is burning as I set everything out on the table. When I have it all laid out, I force myself to look up.

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