by Mia Carson
My father and Debbie walked in, and I felt extremely uncomfortable. I was horrified by what had happened between Blake and me, and I began to worry that the guilt was evident in my appearance.
“Hey, honey. How was class today?” Dad greeted me as he entered the kitchen.
“It was good,” I replied without looking at him. I focused steadily on the food in front of me and could feel my face redden from a mix of shame and embarrassment.
“What are you making?” he asked curiously.
“Just baked chicken and a salad.”
“Sounds delicious.” The smile in his voice made me feel guiltier than ever.
I finished cooking dinner and excused myself from the kitchen, claiming I wasn’t hungry. This wasn’t untrue, either. I was much too nauseous to eat. I ran upstairs and shut my bedroom door quickly. I couldn’t get the kiss out of my head. My body was hot from his touch, and I wanted more of him. My mind bitterly reminded me of my dislike for Blake, contradicting the deep, throbbing need I felt for his lips. Part of me was glad our parents had come home when they did—who knew how far we would have gone? A different part of me longed for more. As I climbed into my bed, I thought about how awkward school would be tomorrow.
Blake
I got ready for class slowly because I didn’t want to face Alyssa. I felt like an idiot for kissing her, but I hadn’t been able to stop myself. When I had leaned in close to her, she looked so beautiful and innocent, her lips so soft and plump. Of course I wanted to kiss her again, but I dismissed the thought quickly. Despite knowing how wrong my actions were, if I were ever in the same situation again, I would kiss her and touch her just the same. Alyssa caused a deep, hungry response in me, one that overrode all rational thoughts and logic. I had to act cool, as if her presence didn’t affect me, which was the only way to control my irrational need for her. Controlling my attraction was vital. Alyssa and I were a part of a new family. We were technically siblings, and what we had done was shameful and could make life hard for us both.
I grabbed my backpack and headed downstairs, saying a quick good morning to my mother and stepdad. Alyssa was already downstairs, sitting at the table eating a piece of toast. I looked at her, but she didn’t look at me, just stared at her toast as if it were the most fascinating thing she had ever seen.
“Are you ready, Alyssa?” I asked her nonchalantly.
She froze for a second before she responded. “Yeah.”
I watched her get up and give her father a quick kiss on the cheek before grabbing her backpack and walking out the door. I followed her to her car.
The drive to school was awkward and tense. I was hesitant to address the situation we had put ourselves in, and Alyssa’s stiff, quiet disposition implied that she felt angry and resentful towards me. Unable to find the right words to say, I decided to remain silent, but I constantly flicked my gaze to her, resisting every instinct to reach out and touch her.
Once we pulled into a parking spot, I hopped out and said, “See ya later, kid.”
I walked away quickly, unable to be near her any longer. I was overwhelmingly unable to properly handle the mess I had made by kissing her. I headed to my class, grateful for any distraction to get Alyssa off my mind. After an hour-long lecture, I left, rubbing my temples to ease the beginnings of a headache, and practically ran over Brittney as I walked out of the classroom. Clearly, she had been waiting for me.
“I called you last night,” she said, looking up at me with a small frown on her face.
I wasn’t in the mood to deal with her, but I saw Alyssa at the end of the hall talking to Maggie, so I wrapped my arm around Brittney’s shoulder. “Would dinner tonight make up for it?” I asked, walking down the hallway with her practically glued to my side.
She yelped and said, “Totally!” She blabbed on, but I tuned her out, my eyes on Alyssa’s face as we passed her. She looked up and for a brief moment seemed almost hurt. She caught my eye and turned her attention back to Maggie, her expression instantly one of total unconcern, though it didn’t quite ring true.
***
I sat across the table from Brittney, annoyed at myself for suggesting this date. She seemed happy, though, and a continuous stream of words babbled out of her. I ate my food mechanically, trying my best to appear interested in what she was saying.
She was nothing like Alyssa. She wasn’t smart or funny, though she was pretty in a more artificial and obvious way. I sighed, telling myself I would never get anywhere if I compared every girl I went on a date with to Alyssa. She was simply incomparable. My attraction to Alyssa might run deeper than I originally thought, and I feared feelings were beginning to develop. The thought of caring for Alyssa in an intimate way invoked a horrifying anxiety. She wasn’t just some girl, she was going to be in my life forever. The reality of the situation was that, as her stepbrother, I simply couldn’t have her.
I looked at Brittney, and even though she was in the middle of a sentence, I interrupted. “Brittney, I just want to make sure you understand something.”
“What’s that?” she asked with wide eyes filled with what might have been adoration.
“I just want us to be friends.” I hesitated, searching for words that wouldn’t be hurtful. “I’m not really looking for a girlfriend right now.” I instinctively knew that what I said might be mean, but it had to be said. I looked at my food guiltily. I could see the pain on her face, and her eyes watered. I scrambled to find words to comfort her, the hurt I caused her cutting through me. “It isn’t you,” I added in a calming voice. “I just have a lot going on in my life right now. I hope you understand.”
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 also 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.