Score: A Stepbrother Sports Romance

by Aubrey Irons

  “Well what about you, lady-killer? How about you and Miss sorority-girl cheerleader?”

  Roxie frowns and looks down at her own classwork. “Still in the closet.”

  “Have you talked to her?” I say in an obnoxiously sing-song voice. “You know, you should talk to h-”

  “Oh shut up.” Roxie grins and flips me off. “And I don’t sound like that.”

  “Sorry, dude, I meant to say you should talk to her. Dude.”

  She nods at my little display. “Oh, much better.”

  The room sinks back into silence for a minute before she drops her notes again and breaks it.

  “Well we’re a sorry duo, huh?”

  I nod glumly.

  “So do I need to have him murdered or what?”

  I snort. “Are you telling me you ‘know’ people?”

  She grins. “Do I know people? No, but I may or may not have grown up bow-hunting.”

  I raise a brow at her. “Seriously?”

  “Dead serious. Dude, I was all-state at the high school competition level. Coming out as a lesbian to your dad in rural Virginia means you’re basically officially a boy, by the way.” She shrugs, “So Dad started teaching me how to hunt.”

  “That’s…”

  “Weird?”

  I grin. “A little.”

  “Yeah, no, that’s a lot weird, but I’m saying the option is there.”

  “I have a hard time picturing you bow-hunting.”

  She shrugs. “Well, say the word and I’ll put one in QB so fast it’ll make your head spin.”

  I laugh. “Let me think about it, okay?”

  She winks at me and starts to turn back to her notes, before she stops. “So…”

  I drop my book again and look up at my friend. “Yes?”

  “So it was more than sex, wasn’t it?”

  I can feel my face burning red as I look down. “I thought we weren’t talking about it.”

  “No, you weren’t talking about it. I’m still very intrigued by the chaotic nature of your social life.”

  I groan. “Well the answer is ‘I don’t know’, okay?”

  “But the sex was at least good, right?”

  My cheeks burn even hotter as I pointedly stare into the book in my lap, not reading a word. I mean, what do I even say to that? The sex was phenomenal? Mind blowing? So good I can’t fathom a single thing or feeling on Earth being as good as that?

  Roxie grins. “Yeah, that’s a yes if I ever heard one. Well, at least the real thing stood up to rumor.” She raises a brow at me.

  “What?”

  “I mean, how is the real thing compared to rumor?”

  The red blooms from my face across my neck and down to my chest, and I groan as I throw a pillow at her. “Nosy much? Besides, I thought you weren’t into that.”

  Roxie laughs as she dodges the pillow. “What, dick? Good lord, no, I’m not.” She winks at me. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not curious. You know, for science or whatever.”

  I roll my eyes at her. “For science, huh?”

  She grins, “Hey, you’re the biology nerd here, I bet you even took field notes.”

  I groan. “Oh my God, stop. And anyways, my lips are sealed on that particular matter.”

  “Yup, that’s another yes.”

  She laughs again as I turn away, blushing furiously.

  “Okay, okay, I’m done. No more jokes.”

  She’s still looking at me when I glance back up, only it’s not jokey this time.

  “It was more than that wasn’t it? Sex, I mean.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know… no?” I shrug. “Yeah, no, it was just sex.”

  Bullshit.

  But it’s like this block I can’t get past. If I can say it was just this “thing” - if it was just me “experimenting” and “living the college life” then it won’t hurt.

  I’ve been saying this to myself for a week. It’s still not working.

  Roxie sighs. “Hails, what did I tell you when we first met?”

  “Probably something hugely personal about your own sex life?”

  “Besides that.”

  I shake my head.

  “I told you, you were going to have to get better at that.”

  “At what?” I frown.

  “Lying.”

  I roll my eyes “Rox-”

  “Yeah, you are. Hails, I haven’t known you that long, but I know you enough to know you’re not that girl, even if you were trying to be.”

  I scowl. “What girl?”

  “The girl that hooks up with a guy like Dalton ‘just because’ or ‘just to get a piece’. It’s not you.”

  I chew at my bottom lip, saying nothing.

  “So it was more.”

  “I don’t know.”

  She gives me a look. “You don’t know or you don’t want to admit to yourself that it was?”

  “He told me he loved me.”

  I say it quietly, and I don’t know how or why it comes coming tumbling out, but suddenly it’s just there.

  Roxie raises a brow. “Really?"

  “Yep.”

  “The Dalton Cole told you he loved you?”

  I nod. “Yeah, that night. Right before the reporter came over and ruined it all before I could say anything back.”

  Roxie whistles. “Holy shit, Hails.”

  “Yeah.”

  ‘I’ve never said it before.”

  ‘So why say it now?’

  ‘Because it’s true.’

  I squeeze my eyes shut on the memory that’s been replaying in my head all week. But it’s still there, behind my eyes, like it’s been every night when I try to fall asleep. And I hate that I’m dwelling on it like that, because it’s not like I can love Dalton Cole back, right?

  Why not?

  Because…

  My mind draws a blank. I’m waging a war of ideals inside my head before I realize I don’t even have an argument. I have nothing to say as to why I shouldn’t, at least nothing that sticks

  “Oh my God, you love him back, don’t you?”

  “What?” I jerk my head up and blink quickly. “No! No, of course not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because of….reasons.”

  Roxie crosses her arms over her chest and gives me a look. “Elaborate.”

  “Roxie, come on.”

  “No, I’m not letting you off the hook here because you’re acting ridiculous. Now look, either you actually don’t love him back - which I don’t believe for a single second - or you do love him back and you won’t let yourself admit that.”

  I hang my head. “I don’t know, Rox.”

  “So what other reasons? That he’s been with other girls? Who the fuck cares? Has he been with anyone since you?”

  I shake my head.

  “Well, dude, that says something.”

  “What, that I’m a ball and chain for the great legendary Dalton Cole?”

  She rolls her eyes. “No, that he wants you, dummy.” She gives me a look. “What other shit reasons you got?”

  I groan and drop my head. Nothing, I’ve got nothing.

  Because thinking of reasons why I wouldn’t or couldn’t love Dalton Cole is a fruitless exercise. Thinking of all the ways to say I don’t love him is a waste of time and a waste of breath.

  Because I do, and that’s what hurts the most.

  “People will talk,” I mumble weekly.

  “Fuck them.”

  I grin. “My dad said the same thing, actually.”

  “Well your dad’s a smart fucking guy.”

  Roxie comes over and sits on the bed next to me. “Look, I’m sorta bad at the whole Sex and City ‘hugs and advice’ shit, but…” she trails off as she shrugs and awkwardly puts her arms out.

  The tears come as I hug her fiercely.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing, Roxie,” I mumble into her shoulder.

  “None of us do, dude,” she chuckles as she strokes my hair. “None o
f us do.”

  “Hey Rox?”

  “Yeah?”

  I sniffle against her shirt and squeeze her harder. “You’re way better at the ‘hug and advice shit’ than you think you are.”

  She laughs, “Don’t you go telling a soul, okay?”

  “Deal.”

  47

  Dalton

  I’m lacing my pads up before the game against Alabama when there’s a slap on my back.

  “Hey, bro.”

  I grit my teeth; Evan.

  I’ve been avoiding any interaction with basically anyone since that night a week ago. I’ve done the bare minimum of communication during practice. I’ve yelled plays, I’ve called passes, and that’s fucking it.

  And I’ve been a Goddamn ghost on campus ever since that first night after the bomb went off. That first night was hell, too; that first night of knowing - really knowing - that I’d lost her.

  I didn’t go home that night after the Florida game. I grabbed a ride with the team bus, but didn’t say shit the whole way back. And once on campus, I just couldn’t do people. I couldn’t be around these guys and whatever sad “loss party” we were going to throw. And I sure as shit couldn’t go home to face whatever music was waiting for me there.

  But apparently, I have a dorm room on campus, and for the first time since getting to college, that’s where I slept.

  Alone, fucking pissed, and with a bottle of shit whiskey I begged off some half-drunk frat-boy on my walk across campus. A bare mattress, a heavy damn heart, and a mountain of regret weighing me down with every beat of my heart.

  Fucking dorm rooms.

  Back in the locker-room, I whirl at Evan, my hands clenching at my sides, my hackles raised. The article is out, obviously, and I’ve been getting looks from the team all week. No one’s gotten the balls together to actually say anything to me yet - not about Hailey, and not about that stupid fucking bet - even if I knew it was just a matter of time.

  Ten minutes before a game is not the fucking time.

  I narrow my eyes at Evan as I whirl on him.

  “Look, man-”

  “Whoa, whoa!” He frowns and puts his hands up. “Chill, dude.” He shakes his head. “I’m not looking to bust your balls, man, not about this. I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay, bud.”

  I relax my hand and slump my shoulders a little. “Yeah…yeah, thanks.”

  “Look, what happened with that article is fucking bullshit, man.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  I suck my teeth and glare at the ground. I know I should be thinking about the game, and the fact that the stakes are even higher coming off the loss last week. But my head’s anywhere but football right now, and I’m pretty sure that’s clear as fucking day on my face.

  Evan swears. “Damn, dude,” he says with a shake of his.

  “What?”

  He whistles lowly. “She really got to you, didn’t she?”

  I shrug and look away. “It’s nothing, man.”

  “Hey, if you say so.”

  I say nothing, my thoughts still brooding behind my face.

  “She did though, didn’t she?”

  I shrug. “It doesn’t matter, man.”

  “The fuck it doesn’t.” Evan chuckles and puts his hand on my shoulder-pads. “Look, man, between you and me?” He shrugs, “All the pageantry and shit with football? All the groupies and the shallow fans and the celebrity shit?” He looks around before he leans close. “It’s all bullshit, man. None of it means anything past the immediate, and none of it lasts. You got something good? Fuckin’ hold onto that, bro.”

  I sigh, shaking my head. “Well, hindsight, man.”

  He grins, “Nah, man. Life’s not a fucking pass-conversion or a play from the book. There are do-overs if you want them.”

  I laugh, for maybe the first time in a damn week. “Thanks, dude.”

  “Look, and for what it’s worth and speaking for probably most of the guys on this team?” He grins at me. “Dude, I’m into it. The Hailey thing, I mean. And hell, Coach didn’t fucking shoot your dick off or anything, which is a bonus.”

  I snort. “Very true. But look, it doesn’t matter anyways, it’s over.”

  He nods, “Sorry, man.”

  I shrug, “Well, that’s the way it goes.”

  “Listen, you’ve got a whole team of guys who would follow you into fucking war behind you here. You know that, right?”

  I grin and nod.

  “Look, we good for tonight?”

  “Yeah, man. We’re good.”

  “Well alright then.”

  I guess we’re good, I mumble to myself as he walks away to finish suiting up. Good as can be.

  “Let’s talk a minute.”

  I turn at the sound of Coach’s voice. We haven’t really spoken much besides football since that night - pointedly so. But then, he also hasn’t “shot my fucking dick off”, as Evan so eloquently put. Not yet, at least.

  He nods towards his office and I follow him in.

  “Last game before playoffs, you ready?”

  I nod. “Yes, sir. I’m ready for it.”

  He holds my eyes with a firm look, shaking his head as if mulling something over before he sighs.

  “Look, there’s gonna be a lot of distractions out there tonight, Dalton. There’s going to be a lot of cameras, and a lot of questions, and a lot of shitty people trying to get inside your head.” He shakes his head, “Don’t let it get to you.”

  “Yeah, working on it,” I say flatly.

  “I’m serious, son. The articles and the cameras and all the hype?” He shrugs, “That crap is going to come and go, I promise you. Let it happen.” He levels his gaze at me. “Be the man I know you are. Be the man your mother raised.”

  Can you do that?”

  Well, shit, there’s a reason Coach is good at what he does. I nod. “Yes, sir. Yeah, I can do that.”

  He takes a deep breath. “Look, I’ve got a lot of respect for the way you manned up and told me about what was going on with you and Hailey, but let me be perfectly clear.”

  His face darkens a little as his jaw tightens. “That is my daughter, Dalton. You understand me?”

  I nod. “I do, sir.”

  “I don’t know what the hell is going on with the two of you, but make no mistake. Whatever happens…”

  His mouth thins as his eyes narrow right at me.

  “You hurt my little girl in any way, and I will put you in a hole.” He arches a brow at me. “We understand each other?”

  I nod. “Crystal, Coach.”

  “Be the man my daughter sees in you.”

  He grins and slaps me on the back. “Let’s get out there and play some football, huh?”

  And then it’s time to head out - out to the people and the cameras and the fucking media and all the shit I need to push out of my head.

  I’ve got my helmet in hand as we jog up the tunnel, trying to make Coach’s words stick. This used to send me into space. This used to be the biggest rush of life - heading out onto the field of glory like this.

  It’s a bit duller now.

  But the cheering is getting louder, the lights lancing through the opening at the top of the tunnel ahead, and it’s time to get it together.

  And then we’re out, and the roar of the crowd and the blare of the lights becomes deafening.

  Well, here we go.

  I jog out, my face grim and ready for war. And I’m about to put my helmet on, when the hand stops me.

  I know this hand just by the feel of it on my arm.

  “Dalton.”

  And when I turn, time stops.

  She’s standing there, her hair blowing in the madness of it all, the lights glittering over her skin like firelight, and her eyes looking at me like no girl has ever looked at me.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  Fuck, it’s the first time I’ve heard her voice in a damn week, and it’s like surfacing from the water and finally sucki
ng in a breath of air.

  “Hailey, fuck, I need to tell you-”

  “Dalton, stop.” She’s shaking her head, and when she steps forward and puts a hand on my face, it’s like the whole world slows way down to a crawl. It’s like the Earth stops moving, and the din of the crowd drops to a murmur in the background. The lights go out, save for one bright one right on her as she steps into me.

  “The other night,” she says softly. “The other night you said something that I’ve never heard, not like that.” Her eyes burn into mine - all the fear and the innocence and the hidden hint of fire that made me fall for her in the first place.

  “And it scared me.”

  “Hailey-”

  “Hang on, let me finish. It scared me, because I don’t know how to say it back, or, I didn’t know how to say it back.”

  And then she looks me right in the eye, and if the world was slowed before, it absolutely freezes for that moment in time, until it’s just the two of us in that one, perfectly still moment.

  “I know how to now, and Dalton?” She bites her lip and steps right into me as she looks up into my face. “I love you, too.”

  She kisses me, and it’s all over. The world roars to life again with a bang, the axis spinning right back up, the lights blooming to life, and the explosive cheers of the crowd like a wave crashing over the whole thing.

  And it’s right then that the cameras seem to pick up on it all, and then we’re fucking everywhere.

  Cameras clicking, lights flashing, microphones and screaming reporters hurling questions and jockeying for a comment. The crowd is screaming our names, and I look up for one second, and we’re on the damn jumbo-tron screen, on that stupid kiss-cam thing.

  But you know what?

  Fuck it.

  “I need to tell you something,” I whisper into her lips.

  “Yeah?”

  “I think people might be watching us right now.”

  She laughs, her whole face lighting up. But then I’m kissing her again, picking her up and spinning her around in my arms as the whole goddamn stadium stands and cheers.

  And it’s damn perfect.

  Hailey grins as she pulls away and steps out of my arms. “Now go win a football game for me, okay?”

  I laugh. “For you?”

  “Oh, don’t think I’m going to be seen with a losing star quarterback, Mr. Cole. Go big or go home, isn’t that the saying?”