Score: A Stepbrother Sports Romance

by Aubrey Irons

  What the fuck am I even thinking? Coach won’t even have a chance to kill me if I do it first by wrapping my new car around a fucking guard rail trying to drunk drive home. What a clichéd way that would be to end the streak - the drunk, douchebag sports hero that dies in some easily avoided drunk driving accident.

  Yeah, no thanks.

  I fumble my phone out of my pocket to call a cab, before I realize it’s dead as a brick.

  Wonderful.

  The idea of finding some beer-soaked couch back in the football house to crash on makes my stomach churn. The thought occurs to me that I do technically have a room - and a bed - somewhere here on campus, but I also realize I’ve never actually been to that room.

  Fuck, I don’t even know what Goddamn dorm building I “live” in.

  I groan and run my hand through my hair, muttering to myself and gearing up for the world’s shittiest walk back to my mom’s place, when another idea hits me. Because actually, there is another place on campus I can stay.

  I grin as I stagger off in the direction of her dorm.

  Oh yeah, this is going to be hilarious.

  11

  Hailey

  Books?

  Check.

  Pens, pencils, binders, notebooks?

  Check, check, and check.

  I’ve done this the night before the first day of school literally every year of my life since kindergarten. Pencils and pens organized by color and ball-point size, books and notebooks stacked in order of schedule, first day outfit picked out and neatly folded.

  It’s tradition, or maybe more-so some sort of superstition. But either way, and even if I’m fully aware of how silly it is, here I am again - the night before my first day at college and going through the same motions I did when I was five.

  Forget tradition or superstition, maybe it’s just a comfort.

  When everything’s laid out on my bed in its perfect place, exactly how I need it for tomorrow, I finally stand back with my hands on my hips to admire my work.

  Perfect.

  I’m good like this. I like knowing what’s coming and preparing and analyzing for it.

  I’m neat, organized, ready to go, and prepared. Unlike some people.

  ‘Some people’ being Dalton.

  I cringe as his name pops into my head.

  I can’t believe I…I touched myself thinking of him.

  I scrunch my eyes shut and shake my head, pushing my hair back from my face as I start to get changed for bed. Yeah, I need to get that sort of thinking right out of my head. It was silly, and maybe I was a little drunk, but there will be no dwelling on the shame of that night.

  He IS good at worming his way under your skin though, I begrudgingly admit to myself as I slip my jeans off. I fold them neatly over the back of my desk chair. He’s good at planting himself somewhere deep inside - a nagging thought that won’t go away and only burrows deeper the more you try to push it out. I’ve felt that now, and I almost feel some sort of pity for all those girls he’s burned his way through.

  Well, almost.

  It’s just natural, I try and tell myself for the fiftieth time since that night. It’s just human biology and physiology, that’s all. Biologically speaking, yes, Dalton Cole is attractive on that alpha caveman level, with his muscles, and that strong jaw, and that dominating personality. Biologically, I know he’d be good at fighting saber-toothed tigers away from the mouth of our cave and protecting our tribe.

  I roll my eyes. Except this is the twenty-first century, and intellect matters. Deep thoughts matter - reading books, common courtesy and manners matter.

  Not being a total jock dickhead and massive manwhore goes a long way too, I might add.

  That’s not the only massive thing about him.

  I groan and try to push that thought right out of my head again, when there’s a rapping knock at the door to my room.

  I raise a brow before looking at the time.

  What the heck does Roxie need at this time of night?

  I march to the door and start to yank it open. “Hey, what’s-”

  And that’s when I suddenly stumble over my words and realize I’m looking right up into Dalton fucking Cole’s smirking face.

  “Well, that is definitely one way to answer the door,” he drawls, grinning as his eyes drop to what I’m wearing.

  Or rather, what I’m not.

  “Oh what the fuck!” I quickly slam the door shut and groan as I drop my face into my hands.

  Of course I just answered the door to Dalton wearing nothing but polka-dot underwear and a t-shirt.

  “Nice shirt,” he laughs through the door, and I scowl down at the vintage Batman t-shirt I’m wearing to bed.

  “Nerd.”

  “Screw you,” I hiss back through the door.

  He knocks again and I scowl. “What are you doing here, Dalton,” I mutter.

  “Well, it’s a funny story really,” he starts to chuckle. “I, uh, I sorta fucked up.”

  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, you did. It’s one in the morning the day before classes, and this is a girls’ floor.”

  “It’s a coed dorm, isn’t it?”

  “A girls’ floor, Dalton,” I mutter again, shaking my head as if he’s standing right in front of me.

  “Well, shit, what damn year is it?” I can hear Dalton sigh heavily on the other side of the door as he slumps against it. “C’mon darlin, what happened to suffrage and all that?”

  I grin in spite of myself, biting my lip. “Do you have any idea what you’re even talking about?”

  “Half,” he says with a chuckle. “I got about half an idea what I’m talking about. Look, can you just let me in? Apparently I’m not supposed to be out here. It’s a girls’ floor you know.”

  I roll my eyes as I shake my head and grin.

  No, stop that! My mind scolds me. He is NOT funny, he is not CHARMING.

  I can’t believe I’m about to say yes to this.

  “Okay, fine, you can come in.”

  “Well aright then.”

  “Only because I don’t need you making a scene. Hang on.” I groan again about how bad an idea this is as I yank on a pair of pajama pants, before I go back and swing the door open.

  “And a good evening to you too, sweet-thang,” he drawls with an extra twang in his voice, tipping an imaginary hat.

  God, is he drunk?

  I frown at him. “Are you drunk?”

  Dalton makes a serious face as he clears his throat, swaying just slightly on his feet as he blinks. “Stone cold sober, darlin.” He grins and moves to step past me into the room when an unopened can of beer falls out of his hoodie pocket and rolls across the floor.

  “Whoops,” he laughs. “Busted.”

  “Jesus, Dalton,” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “What are you doing here?”

  “Okay, okay,” he flashes that damned charming grin at me and holds his hands up. “You got me. I’m a teeny bit drunk.” He holds up his thumb and forefinger, as if that’s some sort of logical measurement of how drunk he is.

  “Anyways, wasn’t about to go off and drive home so I thought I’d swing by and say hi to my favorite stepsister.”

  I can feel the blush bloom across my face in spite of myself as I shake my head. “Don’t you have a dorm room here?”

  He snorts. “Allegedly.”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course you’ve never been to it.”

  “Hey, what can I say? I’ve got other beds to sleep in.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Gross.”

  Dalton laughs as he reaches back to shut the door to my room. “At my mom’s house. Jeez, get your mind outta the gutter, Hailey.” He grins at me again. “And give me a little credit, huh?”

  “Oh, I do. I give a lot of credit to your laundry list of conquests the tabloids love to talk about.”

  He chuckles again. “My conquests?” He shakes his head and laughs, running his fingers through his hair. “Well that’s just adorable.”

&nb
sp; I make a face. “So, again, Dalton, why are you-”

  “Here?” He grins and shrugs as he looks around my room. “I need a place to stay.”

  I immediately start to laugh before I suddenly freeze. “Oh, God, you’re serious?”

  “Super serious, darlin.”

  I’m already shaking my head side to side, violently. “Nope, no. No way. Why don’t you just go to your mom’s?”

  Dalton pulls his attention from the rest of the room back to me, flashing that farm-boy grin at me like he’s going to win me over with it. “Aww, what, you’re going to kick me out on the street?”

  “The thought had crossed my mind.”

  He grins. “A legend? A star? Out on the streets, thrown to the elements?”

  I slowly shake my head at him. “Wow, is your head really that big?”

  Dalton’s lips curl into a wicked smile. “Hey, I asked if you wanted to see it.”

  I cringe, groaning. “That head,” I jab a finger at his face, and he blows me an air kiss.

  “C’mon, darlin. Just let me stay.”

  “Dalton-”

  Am I SERIOUSLY considering this?

  “I won’t even steal the covers, honest.”

  I bark out a laugh. “Oh, you think you’re getting my bed?” I roll my eyes. “Keep dreaming.”

  “So, I am staying?”

  I roll my eyes again, cringing even as the word passes my lips. “Fine.”

  Pushover. Stupid, stupid, just-like-every-other-girl-he-pulls-this-crap-on pushover.

  Dalton grins, like he already knew I was going to give in. “You’re a peach.” He yanks his hoodie off, tossing it over the back of my desk chair and standing there in his jeans and a v-neck t-shirt. “So, where’s my bunk?”

  I smile sweetly and point to the floor.

  “Ouch, darlin.”

  “You don’t have to stay, you know.”

  Dalton arches a brow at me, a smirk on his face. “Naw, it’s fine.” He looks past me. “So how are these crappy dorm beds, anyways?”

  He suddenly moves past me, and before I can even open my mouth, he’s slumping down across my bed, totally wrecking my neatly organized preparation.

  “Dalton!”

  “What?” He jerks his head up.

  I groan. “Damnit, you’re laying on my stuff.”

  He sits up and looks behind him sheepishly. “Oh, whoops.” He gets up off my - until then - nicely folded clothes. “Shit, my bad.”

  “It’s fine,” I mutter.

  “Hang on, I can fix this.”

  He turns and starts to paw through my clothes.

  “Wait, Dalton-”

  He suddenly turns back with a cocky little grin on his face, holding my freaking panties in his hand.

  My face goes red. “Put those down!”

  “You don’t seriously wear these, do you?”

  I glare at him, feeling my face burning up. “Of course I wear them!” I go to snatch them out of his hands, but he lifts them above my head. I scowl at him. “And what is wrong with them?”

  He laughs. “They’re like grandma panties, that’s what’s wrong with them.”

  “They are not! They’re comfortable.”

  He whirls, twirling my damn underwear around his finger. “Damn, I didn’t even think girls wore shit like this anymore.”

  I roll my eyes before I quickly yank them out of his hand and glare at him. “Not everyone is a skank, you know.”

  “Hey, lots of girls like thongs, you know.” He turns and strolls across the room to my dresser. “What else you got in here?” He pulls open the top drawer and starts to poke around.

  I groan loudly as I march over and yank his hand out, slamming the drawer shut. “Damnit, get your hands out of there!”

  That grin creeps back to his face. “What?” He winks at me. “You don’t like my hands in your panties?”

  I feel that embarrassingly heated flush creep through me, and I quickly look away to hide my bright red face. “Look, I have to go brush my teeth and get ready for bed. Just behave, okay?”

  “No promises.”

  In the bathroom down the hall, I look up into the mirror above the sink. Water drips from my face before I pat it dry with my towel, slipping my glasses back on and taking a deep breath as I slowly shake my head.

  Dalton Cole is sleeping in my room tonight.

  Yeah, no big deal. I’ve been at college for all of six days, classes haven’t even started yet, and I have a boy sleeping over.

  Oh don’t be ridiculous.

  I glare at my reflection, squashing down the stupid, idiotic feelings of illicit excitement that threaten to flutter up like butterflies inside of me.

  This isn’t a boy, sleeping over - and certainly not like that.

  This is Dalton - gross, obnoxious, annoying Dalton.

  My stepbrother.

  Nothing is going to happen, even if he insists on trying to rile me up and riddle me with crude innuendos and dick-references just to get to me. And I know he’s just doing it because he seems to take pleasure in making me blush and squirm. But I am not one of his little groupie skanks, fawning and giggling over everything he does or says, just waiting for a chance to try and “get with” him.

  Now quit letting him get to you, I mutter to myself with a final quick look in the bathroom mirror before I grab my stuff and head back to the room.

  It’s no big deal, it’s just Dalt-

  I yank open the door to my room and suddenly collide right into him. I gasp as his hands go around me, catching me as I trip back over my own feet. And suddenly, I’m right against him, looking up into those sharp blue eyes with my hands flat against his bare, chiseled chest.

  “Oh!” I blink and swallow thinly as his eyes burn into mine, his arms wrapped around my body and his hands warm on my back through my t-shirt.

  “Uh, sorry, I was just going to piss.”

  “Yeah, I-” I swallow the lump that forms in my throat, feeling my breath catch and my pulse race in my ears. I’m so close to him, inhaling the scent of him and feeling my head swim. He smells like man, and his body is so hard and hot against me.

  He grins down at me. “I -uh, still have to piss.”

  I blink, the spell lifting as I quickly shake my head and step away from him. “It’s a girls’ floor, Dalton.”

  “I don’t think they’ll mind, do you?” he says with that grin that’s somehow gone right back to infuriating.

  “Just, don’t make a scene,” I say quickly as he steps past me into the hallway.

  The most infamous, conspicuous man on campus turns and flashes me a smile, standing there shirtless in just a pair of jeans in the middle of the hallway. “Hey, it’s me,” he says with a shrug before he saunters off towards the bathroom.

  Yeah, exactly what I’m afraid of.

  I’ve cleared my bed and squirmed under the covers by the time I hear the door open. I hear him shuffling behind me before he clears his throat.

  “Can I get, like, a pillow or something?”

  I sit up and grab one of my extra pillows to toss his way. “Uh, yeah, sorr- Dalton!”

  The shuffling sound was apparently him pulling his jeans off, because he’s standing there all but naked in my dorm room in just a pair of black boxer-briefs.

  He shrugs with a grin. “What?”

  “Jesus, Dalton, put some damn clothes on.”

  “Hey, I sleep naked at home,” he drawls, winking at me.

  I throw the pillow at him. “Well don’t you dare try and pull that here or I really will kick you out on the street.”

  “No problem, sis.”

  I wrinkle my nose and toss him the folded quilt from the end of my bed. I turn my back to him again and pull the covers up. “Goodnight, Dalton.”

  “Night, Hails.”

  He shuffles around for another few minutes before I finally hear him lie still. Slowly, his breathing becomes regular as I lie there in the dark, still feeling my heart hammering in my chest while I list
en to him fall asleep.

  Dalton Cole is spending the night with me.

  Yeah, not with me, but I still frown at the stupid, silly grin that manages to creep across my face.

  Dalton Cole - the man with the reputation.

  The man with the self-centered, arrogant attitude.

  The man with the legendary cock.

  …Is sleeping in my dorm room.

  I quickly squeeze my eyes shut and try and will myself to sleep.

  12

  Dalton

  Needless to say, practice the next day is a fucking bitch. I’m hungover as fuck, my head’s pounding, and I can’t even think straight.

  The first two are entirely booze related, but it’s that third one that has everything to do with my morning wake-up. Because coming to consciousness feeling like shit on a dorm room floor sucks. When that dorm room floor belongs to a girl who I didn’t sleep with, it sucks even more.

  But, opening my eyes to the sight I saw this morning?

  Yeah, better than all the Tylenol in the damn world.

  I’d barely been able to open my gritty eyes - my mouth like sandpaper and my brain about to melt out of my skull. But I’d managed to go from personal hell to absolute heaven when I laid eyes on Hailey.

  Holy shit.

  Hailey Garrison, still asleep, but with all the covers kicked off. Hailey Garrison, facing me with her eyes closed and this damn angelic look on her face, a stray lock of hair draped across her face.

  More importantly though, Hailey Garrison with one leg outstretched with the other curled up beneath her, wearing only a pair of fucking panties and a t-shirt.

  Yeah, I was feeling better in a damn second.

  It’s not like she was wearing anything explicit or anything sexy - actually, they were the same pair I’d caught that quick glimpse of the night before when she opened the door. But damn if they weren’t molded to that tight little ass of hers.

  Shit, I mean whoever would have thought that nerdy little Hailey Garrison had the best looking ass I’ve ever fucking seen?

  That nerdy Batman t-shirt was pulled up a little, flashing her bare hip and stomach, and pulled tight across her tits. Her nipples were hard and poking through the thin cotton, and the whole thing had me more alert than a strong cup of coffee the second I laid eyes on her.