SCORE (A Stepbrother Sports Romance)

by Mia Carson

  It made sense for me to date a girl like Brittney. Because of my football-star lifestyle and my reputation, I had only dated girls like Brittney in the past. Over and over again, I dated the same shallow cheerleader type. Still, I felt guilty, knowing it would be enough for my image if I took her out to eat once in a while or attended a few parties together. I reminded myself it wasn’t my fault that being on the football team had certain expectations. Reputation was important, and I convinced myself, on some level, Brittney understood that.

  She looked at me in silence for a long while, clearly processing my words, and simply said, “Oh. Okay. I guess I understand. I just thought you felt the same way I do.”

  Her soft reaction despite the obvious reluctance in her eyes made it even harder to deal with the consequences of what I had done. I mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

  We finished the rest of our meal in silence, and I struggled with unfamiliar feelings of contrition. I tried to reassure myself internally, knowing it wouldn’t be long before she was back on her feet. She was a beautiful girl, and guys were always hitting on her.

  We drove home, and as I pulled in front of her house, I said, “I’ll see you around.”

  I could feel the air around us shift. Her quiet, not quite sulking attitude changed to hungry and fierce. She spoke in a soft, silky voice, but in the glow of the streetlight I saw an almost hysterical look of desperation in her eyes. “My parents aren’t home. Do you want to come in?”

  She leaned in, trying to kiss me, but I pulled back. “Not this time, Britt.” I almost let her because it would have been easier than letting her down a second time.

  Her face turned a light shade of pink, flushing with humiliation. “Your loss!” she snapped before getting out of the car and practically stomping up the stairs to her house.

  I drove home, gripping the steering wheel tightly. A hunger deep inside me twisted painfully, reminding me that there was only one girl who would satisfy it.

  The next week was a little easier. Things between Alyssa and I were strained as her anger continued to burn. After several attempts to talk to her, we were finally able to slide into a more normal routine. I was relieved that she had decided to forgive me, and we were in silent agreement never to speak of our slip-up. The fact that we were both distracted helped—me with football, her with exams and papers. As we drove to school Thursday, I was in a good mood, and on an impulse, I invited her to my game.

  “You want me to come to your game?” she asked with a smirk on her face, eyebrows raised.

  Her reaction made me unsure of my actions. Was it really a good idea to invite her to a game when our behavior had just returned to normal? I kept my cool, and sticking to my original invitation, I laughed and said, “Why not?”

  She considered it for a moment. “Yeah…okay. Although I’m pretty sure you’re just milking me for a ride.”

  Relief washed over me as she accepted. I shook my head as I hopped out of her car. “I wouldn’t do that to you, kid.”

  I walked to class, my steps strangely lighter. Banners hung everywhere, announcing the game tomorrow, a big one for the team. I was jumpy and tense with suppressed excitement and trepidation as I practiced later that day. Energy coursed through my body, so I ran my laps, the muscles in my legs feeling good and stretched.

  My coach called me over, and I jogged to him. “What’s up, coach?”

  “Look, Blake. I got an email from a couple of your professors. You’re failing classes,” he informed me, his forehead wrinkled and his eyes full of concern.

  My face was hot with embarrassment, and I looked down. “I’ll get them up, coach. I’m sorry.”

  He nodded. “If your GPA is this low at midterm, I’ll have to pull you from the team. I don’t want to do that. You’re a good player. I want you on my team.”

  I nodded, angry at myself for not working hard enough on schoolwork. I had been slacking, but I hadn’t realized how much. I plowed through practice, using my anger to fuel my body. I left feeling defeated, physically and mentally. I had to get my shit together. I gritted my teeth and got in the car, slamming the door.

  Alyssa shot me a cold look as she started the car. “What is your problem?”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled, too angry to give a proper apology.

  “Yeah, whatever,” she snapped, throwing the car in drive and peeling out of the parking lot.

  Halfway home, Alyssa got a call. She glanced down and pulled over to answer. After a minute, she hung up and told me, “That was Dad. We have to pick up groceries on the way home.”

  Annoyed, I said, “Just drop me off at home first.”

  Pulling back onto the road, she replied in a cold voice, “I’m not doing that; it’s a waste of time.”

  I shot her another annoyed look and muttered, “Whatever.”

  We pulled into the parking lot of the supermarket. I turned to Alyssa and said, “I’m just going to wait out here.”

  Exasperated, she snapped, “No, you’re coming into the store to help me get the groceries.”

  “No,” I said through gritted teeth. “I’m staying in the car.”

  Alyssa stared at me, her annoyance with my attitude evident on her face. In a steady, determined voice, she said, “Look, Dad told us to get groceries. You’re going to come in and help me whether you like it or not.”

  I let out an angry sigh and got out of her car, slamming the door as hard as I could behind me. We walked around the store in silence, wrapped in resentment. Alyssa checked the list her father texted her and threw items angrily into the cart as I pushed it up and down the aisles. We checked out and carried the heavy bags to the car. She set her bags on the ground by her trunk while she unlocked and opened it. Putting her bags in, she motioned for me to give her mine. I thrust them belligerently into her arms, and one of the bags ripped, the contents spilling everywhere.

  Alyssa let out a yelp as a glass jar of sauce dropped, breaking and splattering all over her. She looked up at me, as furious as I had ever seen her. “What is your problem?” she screamed at me, her face red and her hands clenched tightly into fists at her side.

  “You’re my problem!” I yelled back at her.

  Her eyes lit up with shock and hostility, and she pushed me roughly on my chest. I glared at her for moment, fighting the impulse to respond in kind, and gave in to the urge that raged behind my indignation. I grabbed her and kissed her roughly. She fought me for a moment but quickly responded, her lips just as demanding and feverish as mine. I pushed her against the car, pinning her arms to her side as I ripped my mouth from hers to press hot kisses along her jawline and down her neck.

  She thrust her hips against mine and let out a hot, heady moan. “Fuck,” she whispered as I nibbled on her skin, my teeth grazing hungrily at her throat. I grabbed her waist, and she framed my face with her hands and kissed me eagerly, practically shoving her tongue in my mouth.

  “You drive me fucking crazy,” I growled against her lips between angry, frustrated kisses. She shoved me away after a moment, and we stared at each other, breathing heavily.

  “We have to go,” she breathed, her fingers covering her swollen lips.

  I nodded and helped her pick up the groceries. We drove home in silence, and it took all of my self-control not to touch her, not to look at her. I could sense she was having just as much difficulty in the small, heated space of the car. A mix of anger and want swirled in her eyes, and her jaw was clenched tightly, her knuckles white as her hands clamped on the steering wheel.

  As soon as we got home, I went up to my room and flung myself on my bed, angry at myself for kissing her and angry at myself for stopping. I needed to change the way I acted around Alyssa and fast, otherwise I would endanger the family we were forced to be a part of. I had to make myself less available to her and start acting more brotherly.

  Alyssa

  I debated whether or not to go to Blake’s game that night. I wanted to make an excuse, but I al
so didn’t want to appear weak. Instinct told me I wasn’t just attracted to Blake but might actually have feelings for him. The whole thing was a mess, and I didn’t know how to fix it. It was bad enough battling my instinctual dislike for Blake as a person, but there was more to our circumstances than that. We were related now, albeit by marriage, and that wasn’t going to change.

  I wanted to talk to Maggie about it, but I was worried she would be judgmental, so I was on my own. I decided to go to the game. It wasn’t like I was going for Blake, anyway. Practically the whole school was going. I asked Maggie to join me, and after three grueling classes and a few hours of studying, we headed to the football field.

  We sat down, and the bleachers filled up fast. People were really riled up, and a lot of students from the rival team had come. Many people were drunk or drinking heavily, and by halftime, Maggie had managed to score us some alcohol, too.

  After the halftime show, Maggie and I watched as a small fight broke out a few rows below us. Within seconds, the small fight turned into an all-out riot. Fights erupted around us, and Maggie yelled as a guy knocked into her. I shoved him off her and yelled, “Hey! Watch it.”

  The guy turned to me and bellowed, “What is your problem?”

  I screamed as the guy shoved me hard, and I fell and hit my head on the seat behind me. I was shocked, reeling in terror as I tried to scramble out of the way. Everything was happening so fast—Maggie screamed, and the guy raised his fist to punch me. I froze in fear and did nothing to defend myself. I heard a loud smack as a fist smashed into his face. Blake, in his uniform, his helmet abandoned in the aisle, had punched the guy who shoved me.

  Maggie helped me up. Around us, people were breaking up the fights. She escorted me from the bleachers and began to panic, looking at my head and babbling about calling an ambulance.

  “Maggie, I’m fine,” I said quickly, searching the crowd for Blake. “Let’s get Blake and get out of here. The game is definitely over, and I’m sure the police have been called.”

  The whole thing seemed surreal. There were students everywhere, and some of them looked as if they were badly hurt. I finally spotted Blake again and waved at him. He hurried to me, breathless, and said, “Are you okay?” His gaze was intense and full of concern.

  “I’m fine,” I said, nodding. “Let’s get out of here.”

  The three of us pushed through the crowd to the parking lot and managed to leave the school with no more incidents. Blake drove quickly to Maggie’s house, and she looked at me and said, “I’ll call you later. That was so crazy. I hope your head gets better.”

  “Talk to you later.” I gave her a hug, and she got out of the back seat.

  As we drove home, I kept looking at Blake, grateful he had no visible wounds. When we arrived, I stopped him before we entered the house. “Thank you for stopping that guy,” I said, giving him a genuine smile.

  “Don’t worry about it. It was my fault you were even at the game in the first place.”

  I noticed an odd trace of guilt in his eyes. “Hey,” I said quickly, placing my hand gently on his arm. “This is not your fault. Seriously, I’m okay.” He nodded, and I asked, “How did you even notice that so quickly with all the chaos?”

  He shrugged. “Must have been luck that I saw you guys.”

  I smiled, wondering if he had been looking at me throughout the game. I pushed the thought from my head and returned his smile. “Thanks, Blake.”

  We agreed not to tell our parents what had happened, not wanting to cause them unnecessary grief or stress. As we headed upstairs, I spared Blake a wistful glance. He may pretend to be a bad guy, but he really can be sweet, I thought. I knew I’d sleep soundly that night—the week had exhausted me. As I drifted off, I wondered if life with Blake would always be this insane.

  ***

  I woke up the next day, excited about the relaxing Saturday. I had slept in until noon, and Debbie made delicious pancakes when I drifted lazily downstairs. Dad and Debbie invited me to go with them to the park, but I turned them down politely, wanting to stay home and have a peaceful day.

  After I greedily ate an entire stack of pancakes, I headed upstairs to take a shower. I saw Blake’s bedroom door was open. I peeked my head in and saw Blake, shirtless, examining himself in the mirror. Even though I had seen him without a shirt on before, I still felt a compulsion to admire his body. The familiar pang of need burned as I watched him.

  I distanced my attraction by thinking about his narcissism, but I blinked when I saw a large, dark bruise beneath his ribcage. I gasped instinctively, forgetting I hadn’t intended to let him know I was there. His head jerked up as I walked in. “Did that happen to you last night?”

  “It’s fine. It really doesn’t hurt that bad.”

  I walked closer to him and touched the area around it lightly as I examined it. I looked up at him. “I’m so sorry.”

  He smiled at me. “Seriously, it’s fine.”

  I nodded and looked around, since I’d never been in his room before. It was cleaner than I expected. His bed was made neatly, and everything seemed organized. I noticed a large display case of trophies on the wall. “Wow,” I breathed, impressed. “You have a ton of trophies.”

  Blake looked at them and shrugged. “They’re pretty easy to get, actually,” he commented modestly.

  I turned to leave. Part of me wanted desperately to stay, but my head protested so loudly that staying was foolish. “Okay. Sorry to bother you.”

  “Alyssa?” he called, his voice soft.

  “What’s up?” The sound of my name on his lips made my heart skip a beat.

  “I need your help with something.” He was practically mumbling, his voice was so quiet, and his gaze was focused intently on the floor.

  “What?”

  “I’m failing my classes, and if I don’t get my GPA up, I’ll be kicked off the team.” His voice was low and sheepish. “I was wondering if you would… uh, help me study and get my grades up… or whatever.”

  I was quiet for a moment. It must have taken a lot for Blake to admit that he needed help with something. “Yeah, totally,” I said, feeling bad for him. “It’s the least I can do.”

  Blake looked up at me and smiled. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” My laugh sounded a little shaky as I bolted from his room.

  I was angry at myself for agreeing to help him, knowing it would be hard for me to get over Blake if I were constantly with him. Was I being selfish or selfless in my actions? It was the right thing to do—football was so important to him, and it would be unfair if he couldn’t play. More than my desire to help him, though, was my constant yearning to be around him. Would I be able to control myself around him? I shook my head, knowing I would have to keep it together. I was seriously worried that if we had another intense kiss, it would turn into something much more, making an even bigger mess of our situation.

  Blake

  We were in the school library and Alyssa was helping me study for midterms. It had been a long week full of schoolwork. As if that stress wasn’t enough, the more I was around Alyssa, the more I wanted to touch her, to hold her. I was dangerously close to becoming attached to her—not simply being attracted, but something deeper and more real. My gaze was glued to her beautiful soft pink lips. I watched them move, fascinated, as she talked, reading something out of a textbook.

  “Blake! Are you paying attention?” she snapped, annoyed.

  “Yeah. Sorry. I was just a little distracted.” I looked back down at the book so she wouldn’t see the need in my eyes.

  “Do I have to remind you that I am doing you a favor?” she asked haughtily, and I felt guilty.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized quickly. “I just have a hard time concentrating.”

  She nodded, her features softening. “How about we take a break?” She shut the book and grabbed her backpack. I nodded and followed her out of the library, grateful for a break from the distracting p
roximity.

  We walked to the cafeteria, making small talk. We each got a drink, and Alyssa grabbed an apple. We headed out onto the quad, and she plopped down on the grass, munching happily. I watched her as she looked around, grabbing at the chance to admire her beauty. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brad, one of my teammates, walking toward us. He sat down next to us and started talking.

  “Hey—Alyssa, right?” he asked, flashing her a smile. She nodded, smiling as he introduced himself. “So, I’m going to this party tonight. I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

  She smiled, clearly flattered by his invite, and flashed me a quick look before she turned back to him and said, “Totally, sounds great.” I watched with rising annoyance as they exchanged numbers. My muscles tensed in anger as he walked away. She noticed my irritation, which I hadn’t bothered to hide. “What?”

  “You’re really going to a party with Brad?” I asked, disdain evident in my voice.

  “Yeah, so? Brad seems nice, and he’s cute.” She looked at me with eyes suddenly cold and hard.

  “Whatever,” I answered, pretending not to care when in fact, the thought of her and Brad together made a hot, red anger well up inside me. I had no right to say anything, so I kept my mouth shut. One thing was for sure, though. I was going to be at that party, no matter what.

  ***

  Later that night, I showed up at the party about an hour in and found a large crowd outside the frat house near campus. Brittney clung to my arm, and I let out a frustrated sigh as I had to practically drag her around. My eyes were alert, scanning the crowd for Alyssa. I didn’t see her anywhere and was stupidly hopeful she’d changed her mind.

  I was on my second beer, finally relaxing and having fun, when Brittney pulled me out onto the dance floor to dance. In the heat of the crowd, I saw Alyssa with Brad. They were dancing really close together, his hands on her hips. I felt that same hot anger and stormed away, leaving a wasted Brittney in the middle of the dance floor.