Read Online SCORE (A Stepbrother Sports Romance) by Mia Carson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mia Carson
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pain of my nagging headache. Setting my laptop down next to me, I laid back now that I had finished. I should use this time to study since I wasn’t able to attend class, but I was much too tired to do so.
I spent the day in my bed, watching movies and eating soup and doing my best not to think about Blake. I failed miserably. Memories of yesterday practically played on a loop in my mind. I frowned as I wallowed in a mess of conflicted feelings. I wanted to be angry at him for kissing me, and for us almost having sex, but I knew better. We made that mistake together. Even stronger than the anger that lingered was dissatisfaction stirring inside of me. I was so hungry and desperate for those lustful moments. The vast, overpowering temptation made me feel helplessly out of control.
This was yet another loop in the large, entangled knot of our relationship. Between all of the anger, lust, and regret, I didn’t know what to feel. There was no “normal” for us anymore, and I feared the situation was spiraling out of control, becoming too big to manage. The next steps we took were crucial—they would define what would come next for us. Would we finally free ourselves from this vicious cycle or let ourselves sink even lower?
On top of all of these bigger issues, the pettier part of me wanted to be mad at him about Brittney, who was basically his girlfriend at this point. I knew, though, that he hadn’t planned for us to hook up, and I had stopped it. After all the caring things he did for me while I was sick, I couldn’t be angry. In fact, guilt began to plague me. He had been late for class because of me and continuously got distracted from studying. If he didn’t pass finals, it would be my fault.
I decided that lying in bed all day was depressing. I was beginning to feel better, so I decided to go out for a bit. I climbed out of bed and grabbed a pair of jeans and a cream-colored sweater, dressing quickly. I thought about getting something light to eat, maybe more soup or a salad. I went downstairs and climbed into my car, thinking of places I could go.
I wound up driving for a while and finally ended up at a small sandwich shop near campus. I got out of the car, running my fingers quickly through my wavy hair to pull it out of my face. I grabbed my wallet and headed inside, my stomach rumbling after being empty for so long.
I waited in line, patiently reviewing the menu. Finally making it to the front, I ordered a bowl of chicken noodle soup from a young, mousey cashier. I smiled at her as she handed me my change and waited for my order to be filled. Once she handed me the soup, I sat down at one of the tables scattered around the restaurant, grabbing a newspaper from the counter to flip through while I ate.
I ate my soup slowly, moseying through the paper, skimming articles and humming to myself. I was engrossed in an article when I heard a voice, deep and brooding, say my name. “Alyssa?” A guy about my age stood near me. He wore an apron and was cleaning tables, indicating he worked there. He looked familiar—dark and tall, with jet black hair and warm brown eyes.
I wrinkled my forehead. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
He smiled at me. “I’m Matt. I think we go to school together?”
I nodded and smiled back. “Oh, right, yeah. Sorry, I have a terrible memory. You’re on the football team, right?”
“Yeah,” he said with a low chuckle. We talked for a few minutes about school and finals. Someone called his name from the back, but before he left he said, “Hey, are you going to the afterparty for the game on Friday?”
I blinked, unsure if I had been invited. I shook my head and said, “No. I’m helping Blake study for finals all week.”
Matt’s face twisted with confusion and he said, “Really? Blake told me he was going. Weird. Well, if you change your mind, I’d love to see you again.”
I smiled and said sheepishly, “Okay. I’ll think about it.” Matt walked away, and I was
I spent the day in my bed, watching movies and eating soup and doing my best not to think about Blake. I failed miserably. Memories of yesterday practically played on a loop in my mind. I frowned as I wallowed in a mess of conflicted feelings. I wanted to be angry at him for kissing me, and for us almost having sex, but I knew better. We made that mistake together. Even stronger than the anger that lingered was dissatisfaction stirring inside of me. I was so hungry and desperate for those lustful moments. The vast, overpowering temptation made me feel helplessly out of control.
This was yet another loop in the large, entangled knot of our relationship. Between all of the anger, lust, and regret, I didn’t know what to feel. There was no “normal” for us anymore, and I feared the situation was spiraling out of control, becoming too big to manage. The next steps we took were crucial—they would define what would come next for us. Would we finally free ourselves from this vicious cycle or let ourselves sink even lower?
On top of all of these bigger issues, the pettier part of me wanted to be mad at him about Brittney, who was basically his girlfriend at this point. I knew, though, that he hadn’t planned for us to hook up, and I had stopped it. After all the caring things he did for me while I was sick, I couldn’t be angry. In fact, guilt began to plague me. He had been late for class because of me and continuously got distracted from studying. If he didn’t pass finals, it would be my fault.
I decided that lying in bed all day was depressing. I was beginning to feel better, so I decided to go out for a bit. I climbed out of bed and grabbed a pair of jeans and a cream-colored sweater, dressing quickly. I thought about getting something light to eat, maybe more soup or a salad. I went downstairs and climbed into my car, thinking of places I could go.
I wound up driving for a while and finally ended up at a small sandwich shop near campus. I got out of the car, running my fingers quickly through my wavy hair to pull it out of my face. I grabbed my wallet and headed inside, my stomach rumbling after being empty for so long.
I waited in line, patiently reviewing the menu. Finally making it to the front, I ordered a bowl of chicken noodle soup from a young, mousey cashier. I smiled at her as she handed me my change and waited for my order to be filled. Once she handed me the soup, I sat down at one of the tables scattered around the restaurant, grabbing a newspaper from the counter to flip through while I ate.
I ate my soup slowly, moseying through the paper, skimming articles and humming to myself. I was engrossed in an article when I heard a voice, deep and brooding, say my name. “Alyssa?” A guy about my age stood near me. He wore an apron and was cleaning tables, indicating he worked there. He looked familiar—dark and tall, with jet black hair and warm brown eyes.
I wrinkled my forehead. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”
He smiled at me. “I’m Matt. I think we go to school together?”
I nodded and smiled back. “Oh, right, yeah. Sorry, I have a terrible memory. You’re on the football team, right?”
“Yeah,” he said with a low chuckle. We talked for a few minutes about school and finals. Someone called his name from the back, but before he left he said, “Hey, are you going to the afterparty for the game on Friday?”
I blinked, unsure if I had been invited. I shook my head and said, “No. I’m helping Blake study for finals all week.”
Matt’s face twisted with confusion and he said, “Really? Blake told me he was going. Weird. Well, if you change your mind, I’d love to see you again.”
I smiled and said sheepishly, “Okay. I’ll think about it.” Matt walked away, and I was
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