“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.