Unhealthy Obsession With My Stepbrother

Jessica’s POV

Hockey, no way.

Up until a few weeks ago, I had never watched that sport or even showed a bit of interest in it but here I was, sitting on the bench in the stadium packed full with people.

The stadium was buzzing with bright lights glaring overhead. The sound of skates scraping the ice and the fans screaming every time someone made a shot got louder with each passing second.

I should have been focused on the game, like everyone else. My mates screamed with every near goal, jumped with each hit, and cheered for the boys who were sweating it out on the ice.

But me? I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

Nate Lincoln; the new guy, the golden boy, the one who skated like the ice was made for him.

He transferred just a few weeks ago and already had the school wrapped around his finger. Tall, with tousled dark hair that looked like it never obeyed a comb, and eyes sharp enough to slice you in two.

Every time he moved, it was like watching a movie I didn’t want to end. Every girl noticed him, and every guy either wanted to be him or beat him.

“Seriously, Jess. Can you not drool for five minutes?” My friend, Hazel, nudged me hard in the ribs, laughing as she waved a popcorn in front of my face.

“He’s just a guy with a hockey stick.” She added as I shoved my hand into the popcorn cup.

I didn't respond, I just rolled my eyes, still watching Nate weave past two defenders and with a hurried aim, the puck slammed into the net, and the crowd went wild.

With the spotlight now shining on him, he threw his arms up, grinning widely as his teammates engulfed him.

“He’s more than that,” I mumbled, not caring that I sounded ridiculous.

“You’re just being obsessed.” She groaned, chewing noisily on her popcorn. She always chewed noisily whenever she was brewing something stupid in her head.

Just like I had thought, she shifted her gaze back to me and with a hand resting under her chin, she said, “I told you about Caleb, remember? He asked about you again.”

“And unlike Nate freaking Lincoln, Caleb is actually normal. He studies Computer Engineering like us, and doesn’t think the sun rises and sets with his own ego.”

“I’m not interested in Caleb,” I said flatly.

“You don’t even know him!” she protested.

“I don’t want to know him.”

She crossed her arms on her chest, a disappointing look splashed on her face, “You’re wasting your time, Jess. Guys like Nate don’t go for girls like us.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, snapping my head in her direction as my eyes watered slightly.

Hazel’s expression softened, but she didn’t take her words back.

“You know what I mean. He dates girls like Skylar and Naomi, the I***a models with lips full of gloss and nails sharp enough to kill. Not someone who spends Friday nights studying algorithms and drinking lukewarm coffee.”

“Whatever,” I muttered.

Hazel didn’t get it. My obsession with Nate wasn’t just about the fact that he was hot. It was the way he carried himself like he had nothing to prove but still made everyone look his way.

This made me want to know him, I wanted him to see me but no matter how hard I tried he didn't look my way.

The game ended with a win, of course and our school erupted into a wild celebration. While on the other hand, I just sat there, watching the team members as they took one last shot before they returned to the locker room.

“I’ll head home later,” I said, pulling away from Hazel’s grip.

“Why?”

“I just want to take a walk, I need to clear my head.”

Eyeing me suspiciously she whispers, “Don’t stalk the hockey team, Jess.”

“No promises.” I chuckled, suddenly weighing it as an option. Today might be my lucky day, who knows.

“Alright then, see you on Monday." She waved me off only to disappear into the crowd the next second.

Now outside the stadium, I looked around before I started to wander aimlessly through the streets until I passed a bar lit up with neon blue and gold.

Cheers and loud music enough to make a deaf person hear again poured out through the door.

Curious, I peeked through the windows, and there they were, the school hockey team.

Nate was in the center of it all. He had his head thrown back in laughter and was surrounded by people patting his back and buying him drinks.

Hazel was right that he wasn't interested in girls like me but I couldn’t look away.

I stood there, hidden behind a pillar, watching them celebrate like they had just won the national finals.

His smile was different outside the pitch, it was looser and a little wild.

After refilling his glass, he lifted it and someone raised a phone to snap a picture of him and then he saw me.

I froze.

His eyes met mine through the glass. He had a steady gaze on me, curious, or maybe even amused.

With his attention now on me, he tilted his head slightly, like he was trying to place me.

Scared, I turned to run away with my heart racing rapidly but before I could take a step, the door opened behind me.

“You know, it’s rude to stare,” a low voice said.

I didn’t have to turn to know who it was. Still, I did. He was even more dangerous up close.

“I wasn’t staring,” I lied through my teeth.

Nate smirked, pushing a hand into his pocket. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The look of a girl hoping the guy she’s watching comes over to talk to her.” He spat out.

“I don’t—” I paused, taking a deep breath. “Maybe I was just curious.”

“Curious?” He lifted his perfectly carved brow.

“Yeah. I’ve never seen someone skate like that. You’re… good.”

“That almost sounded like a compliment,” he said, a grin playing on his lips.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he said, stepping closer as his cologne hit my nostrils. It was warm and clean with a hint of spice. I tried not to let it affect me, but my pulse betrayed me.

“Jessica, right?” he asked.

“You know my name?” I blinked as I swallowed the lump that had risen in my throat.

“You sit in the back of Linear Algebra. Always chewing on your pen like you’re solving the world’s problems.” He shrugged.

“You’ve noticed me?”

“I notice everything.”

Something inside me fluttered. I bet this is a good sign. We haven't talked and I was not a part of the cheerleaders or the school hot girls yet he knew my name, that means he is also interested in me.

But then he leaned against the wall, his gaze sweeping over me with an ease that made me feel both seen and entirely exposed.

“You’re not really my type, though,” he said casually, like he was commenting on the weather.

The flutter I felt earlier turned to shards of glass.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t take it personally. You seem cool and smart too. You are just not… my kind of girl.”

“What is your kind of girl?” I asked shamelessly.

“You know, party girls, loud girls. Girls who wear red lipstick and don’t ask too many questions.” He gave me a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You look like you think too much.”

“And you look like you don’t think enough.” I spat out in fury, my chest rising and falling in sync.

The look in his eyes showed he was surprised.

Lifting his brow, he let out a laugh, this time, louder. “Fair enough.”

“You’ve got that look again.” He said after a while.

“What look?” I wanted to stop talking with him but I just couldn't.

“The look of a girl who just realized the guy she was curious about is a bit of an asshole.”

I bit back the urge to cry, instead, I nodded, “You’re right.”

Leaning close so that his hot breath was fanning my face, he said, “If you level up a bit and quit being a nerd, maybe there can be us.”