Puck Me, Stepbrother

Bryson's POV

I should have stayed home.

The thought hits me as I stand in front of Blackridge University's main gate, staring up at buildings that look like they belong in some fancy movie about rich people's problems. Everything here screams money. The stone walls are so clean they practically shine, and the grass is cut so perfectly it looks fake. Even the trees look expensive.

My phone buzzes in my pocket-another text from Mom.

"Have a great first day, honey! Remember to smile and talk to people. Maybe join a club or something fun!"

I shove the phone back without answering. Mom means well, but she doesn't get it. She's so happy about marrying Richard Hayes that she thinks everything will be perfect now. She keeps talking about how this is our chance for a better life, how I'll love Blackridge, how I'll make amazing friends.

What she doesn't understand is that I don't belong here.

I look down at my jeans. They're clean and they fit okay, but they're from the thrift store back home. The kind of place where everything smells like old fabric softener and costs five dollars. Around me, other students walk by in clothes that probably cost more than Mom makes in a week. Designer bags, perfect shoes, watches that catch the sunlight.

I feel like a fraud.

"You can do this," I mutter to myself. "Just find your classes and survive the day."

The campus map in my hands is already getting wrinkled from my sweaty palms. I've been lost twice already, and I'm starting to panic. Economics class starts in ten minutes, and I still have no idea where Hamilton Hall is supposed to be.

A group of girls walks past me, their designer heels clicking on the stone path. They're laughing about something, and I catch bits of their conversation.

"Did you see what Jessica wore to the party last weekend? So embarrassing."

"I know, right? Like, where did she even get that dress?"

They glance at me as they pass, and I see their eyes take in my clothes. One of them whispers something to her friend, and they both giggle. My face gets hot.

This is exactly what I was afraid of.

I check my phone for the time. Seven minutes now. I need to move.

The coffee shop on the corner looks busy, with a line of students waiting for their morning fix. I should skip it, but I barely slept last night, and I need the caffeine if I'm going to survive my first day. Plus, maybe if I'm holding a coffee cup, I'll look more like I belong here.

The line moves fast, and soon I'm walking away with a large coffee that's way too hot and costs way too much. But at least it smells good, and the warmth feels nice in my hands.

"Hamilton Hall, Hamilton Hall," I repeat to myself, checking the map again while walking. It should be around this corner somewhere.

My phone buzzes again. Another text from Mom.

"Don't forget what we talked about! This is a fresh start for both of us. I love you so much!"

I smile a little despite everything. Mom really is happy, happier than I've seen her in years. After Dad died, she worked herself to death just to keep us going. She deserves this. She deserves Richard and his fancy house, and not having to worry about money anymore.

Even if it means I have to suffer through this place.

I'm reading her text and trying to walk at the same time when I realize I'm going too fast. There's a corner coming up, and I should probably slow down, but I'm already late and-

CRASH.

The collision happens so fast I don't even see it coming. One second I'm rushing around the corner, the next I'm slamming into something solid and warm. My coffee cup flies out of my hands like it has wings, and hot coffee goes everywhere. I mean everywhere. It splashes across the stone floor, it hits the walls, and worst of all, it soaks both me and whoever I just crashed into.

"Shit!" I gasp, looking down at my now coffee-stained shirt.

Then I look up.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

The guy standing in front of me, dripping with my coffee, is the most gorgeous person I've ever seen in real life. He's tall, maybe six feet, with broad shoulders that fill out his expensive-looking shirt perfectly. His hair is this perfect brown color that looks like he just rolled out of bed, but in a good way, all messy and soft-looking. And his eyes...

His eyes are hazel, this amazing mix of green and brown that would be beautiful if they weren't currently looking at me like I'm something disgusting. He stepped in.

"I'm so sorry," I stammer, reaching toward him like I can somehow fix this mess. "I didn't see you coming. I was looking at my phone and-"

"Are you kidding me right now?"

His voice is deep and smooth, the kind of voice that probably makes girls melt. But there's nothing attractive about the way he's looking at me. His expression shifts from shock to something worse. Disgust.

His eyes move down, taking in my thrift store jeans, my old sneakers, my coffee-stained shirt that probably cost ten dollars new. I watch his face change as he puts the pieces together. Rich boy meets scholarship kid. Popular guy meets nobody.

I feel my face burning with embarrassment. Around us, other students have stopped walking. They're staring, whispering to each other. Some of them have their phones out.

Great. My first day at Blackridge, and I'm already the entertainment.

"Look, I'm really sorry," I try again. "Maybe I can pay for dry cleaning or-"

"Pay for it?" He laughs, but it's not a nice sound. "With what?"

The hallway has gone completely quiet now. Everyone's watching, waiting to see what happens next. I can feel their eyes on me, judging my clothes, my face, everything about me that screams 'doesn't belong here.'

This is my worst nightmare come true.

The gorgeous guy looks me up and down again, and I see something cold settle in his expression. His mouth curves into a smile that makes my stomach drop to my shoes. It's not a friendly smile. It's the kind of smile that means trouble.

"Interesting," he says, his voice carrying in the quiet hallway. "Very interesting."

I don't know what he means by that, but I know it's not good. Everything about his tone, his expression, the way he's looking at me like I'm some kind of bug he's about to squash...

My day just went from bad to catastrophic.

And something tells me this gorgeous stranger is about to make it infinitely worse.

Julian's POV

I can't get that little brunette out of my head.

It's been twenty-four hours since the coffee incident, and I'm still thinking about it. Not because I care about the ruined shirt-Dad's credit card can handle a dozen replacements. It's the way he looked at me afterward that won't leave me alone. Like I was the bad guy. Like I was some kind of monster instead of the victim who got drenched in hot coffee.

The disrespect is eating at me.

I don't let things like that slide. Ever. When you're at the top of the food chain at a place like Blackridge, you stay there by making sure everyone knows their place. And that transfer student clearly doesn't know his.

"You're quiet today," Marcus says, dropping into the seat across from me in the dining hall. "Everything okay?"

I shrug, stabbing at my lunch. Around us, the usual crowd is gathered. It always happens like this-wherever I sit, people follow. It's been that way since freshman year. Being captain of the hockey team, having the Hayes name, looking the way I do... it all adds up to a kind of magnetic pull that draws people in.

"Just thinking," I tell him.

"About what?"

Before I can answer, Jake slides in next to Marcus, followed by Tyler and Sean. My inner circle, complete and ready for whatever entertainment I might provide.

"Did you guys see that new kid yesterday?" Tyler asks, unwrapping his sandwich. "The one who dumped coffee all over Julian?"

My jaw tightens. "He didn't dump it. He crashed into me like he was blind."

"Still," Jake laughs, "watching you stand there soaked was pretty funny."

"Hilarious," I say flatly.

The truth is, it wasn't funny at all. It was embarrassing. And the way that kid looked at me afterward-like he was disappointed in me or something-that made it worse.

Who does he think he is?

I scan the dining hall while my friends talk, looking for him without really meaning to. I want to see him again. I want another chance to put him in his place, to make sure he understands how things work around here.

And then I spot him.

He's sitting alone at a table by the windows, completely focused on a textbook. His dark hair catches the sunlight, and even from here, I can see he's wearing another sad outfit that probably came from some discount store. A plain gray t-shirt that's too big on him and jeans that have seen better days.

Perfect.

"Guys," I say, interrupting whatever Jake was saying. "Look who decided to show his face."

I nod toward the brunette's table, and my friends all turn to look. Marcus grins.

"Oh, this is going to be good."

The thing about having a reputation is that it comes with certain responsibilities. People expect things from you. They expect you to be entertaining, to be confident, to never back down from anything. And right now, they're all looking at me like they're waiting for a show.

I can't disappoint them.

"Come on," I say, standing up. "Let's go say hello."

My chair scrapes against the floor, and several people at nearby tables look up. Good. An audience makes everything better.

I walk across the dining hall with my trademark confidence, the kind of walk that makes people notice. My friends fall in behind me like they always do, ready to follow my lead. I can feel other students watching us, whispers starting to spread through the room.

The transfer student doesn't notice us coming. He's too busy reading whatever boring textbook has captured his attention. Economics, I think. How fitting.

I stop right in front of his table, close enough that my shadow falls across his book.

"Well, well," I say, making sure my voice carries. "If it isn't yesterday's coffee delivery boy."

His head snaps up, and those dark eyes meet mine. For a split second, I see surprise, then recognition, then something that looks like dread.

Good.

"Remember me?" I continue, loud enough for half the dining hall to hear. "You know, the guy you decided to use as target practice yesterday?"

His face starts to turn red, but he doesn't say anything. Just stares at me with those big dark eyes like he's waiting for this to be over.

"What, no apology?" I ask, tilting my head. "No offer to pay for dry cleaning? That's not very civilized behavior."

A few people at nearby tables have turned to watch now. I can hear whispers, see phones being pulled out. Social media at Blackridge moves fast, and everyone loves drama involving me.

"I did apologize," he says quietly, so quietly I have to lean in to hear him.

"Did you?" I pretend to think about it. "Huh. Must not have been very memorable."

Marcus snickers behind me, and I can feel my confidence growing. This is what I'm good at-commanding a room, making people laugh, being the center of attention.

"You know," I continue, gesturing at his outfit, "maybe the problem is that you can't see where you're going because your clothes are too big. Have you considered shopping in the women's section? They might have things that actually fit."

The laughter from my friends is immediate and loud. Other students start laughing too, and I watch the transfer student's face get redder and redder.

But his eyes... his eyes aren't embarrassed anymore. They're angry. Really angry. For a second, I think he might actually stand up and fight back. Part of me almost wants him to. It would be entertaining to see what this little nobody thinks he can do against me.

Instead, he starts packing up his books.

His hands are shaking, I notice. Actually shaking as he shoves his textbook into his backpack. He won't look at me now, won't look at anyone. Just keeps his head down and focuses on getting his stuff together.

"Leaving so soon?" I ask. "We were just getting acquainted."

He stands up without saying a word, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. For just a moment, his eyes meet mine again, and there's something in them that I don't expect. Not fear or embarrassment.

Disappointment.

He walks away without looking back, and I watch him go, surrounded by the laughter and approval of my friends and half the dining hall.

"Damn, Julian," Jake says, clapping me on the shoulder. "That was brutal."

"Poor kid looked like he was about to cry," Tyler adds, grinning.

They're all looking at me like I just won some kind of victory, like I've proven something important. But as I watch the transfer student disappear through the dining hall doors, I feel... empty. Hollow.

Like I've won something that wasn't worth winning.

"Come on," I say, pushing the feeling down. "Let's get back to lunch."

We return to our table, and the conversation quickly moves on to other things. Hockey practice, weekend plans, and a girl Jake's been trying to ask out. Normal stuff.

But I keep glancing toward the windows where the brunette was sitting, and I can't shake the image of his hands shaking as he packed up his books.

Later that evening, I'm in my dorm room trying to focus on homework when my phone buzzes.

Dad: School bonding party this Saturday at the Morrison house. Make sure the whole team shows up. Good for morale.

I stare at the text for a minute, thinking. A party means the whole student body will probably show up. Rich kids at Blackridge never pass up a chance to drink expensive alcohol and show off their clothes.

Which means the transfer student might be there.

The thought should annoy me, but instead I find myself wondering if he'll come. If he has the guts to show his face after today's humiliation. Part of me hopes he will.

Another chance to put him in his place wouldn't go amiss.

I text Dad back: Got it. Will spread the word.

But even as I send the message, I can't stop thinking about those dark eyes and the way they looked at me like I was something disappointing.

Like I was less than what he expected me to be.

The feeling bothers me more than it should.

Bryson's POV

My phone has been buzzing nonstop for three days.

Every time I look at it, there's another text from Mom. Each one more excited than the last, full of heart emojis and exclamation points that make my chest tight with guilt.

"How are your classes going? Have you made any friends yet?"

"Remember what we talked about - this is your chance to really belong somewhere!"

"Richard says the campus has amazing clubs and activities. You should try something new!"

I stare at the latest message while sitting on my dorm room bed, trying to figure out how to respond. How do I tell her that her new husband's son's friends have made me their personal entertainment? How do I explain that I can't walk across campus without hearing whispers about the dining hall incident?

I can't. She's too happy.

Mom deserves this happiness after everything she's been through. After Dad died, she worked two jobs just to keep us afloat. She deserves Richard and his fancy house, and not having to worry about money anymore. She deserves to believe that everything is perfect, that her son is thriving at this expensive school she never could have afforded on her own.

Even if it's a lie.

"Everything's great, Mom. Still settling in, but it's good."

I hit send before I can change my mind.

The truth is, things have gotten worse since the dining hall. I found out the gorgeous asshole's name is Julian Hayes, and apparently, he runs this entire school. Everywhere I go, I hear his name. Girls talking about how hot he is, guys talking about hockey stats and parties at his place, professors mentioning his family's donations to the university.

He's like campus royalty, and I'm the peasant who dared to spill coffee on the prince.

The worst part is that I can't stop thinking about him. Not in a good way - well, not entirely in a good way. Every time I see him across the quad with his perfect hair and that confident smile, my blood boils. But underneath the anger is something else, something I don't want to think about.

He's gorgeous. Even when he's being a complete bastard, even when he's humiliating me in front of half the school, he's still the most attractive guy I've ever seen.

Which makes me hate him even more.

My phone buzzes again-another text from Mom.

"Oh! Richard mentioned that his family is really into hockey. Maybe you should try out for the team! Wouldn't that be amazing?"

I actually laugh out loud. The sound echoes in my empty dorm room, bitter and sharp.

Hockey. Right. Because what I really need is to embarrass myself even more, this time on ice in front of an entire arena.

But then I keep reading.

"I know it sounds scary, but you're so athletic! Remember how good you were at soccer in high school? Richard says the Hayes family has been involved with Blackridge hockey for generations. It would be such a wonderful way to fit in!"

The Hayes family. I wonder if they're related to that Julian Hayes guy who's been making my life hell. Probably not - Hayes is a common enough name, and there are lots of rich families at this school.

The idea is so ridiculous that I almost text her back to explain how impossible it is. But then I think about how excited she sounded when she called last night, how she kept talking about family traditions and bringing our families together.

She wants this so badly.

"I'll think about it," I text back.

It's not a lie. I am thinking about it. I'm thinking about how completely insane it would be to step onto ice I've never skated on in my life, wearing gear I can't afford, just to get demolished by Julian Hayes in front of the entire team.

But I'm also thinking about Mom's voice when she talks about our "new family." I'm thinking about how hard she's trying to make this work, how much she wants me to be happy here.

I love her enough to do almost anything for her happiness.

Even humiliate myself further.

The week crawls by like torture. Julian's friends have turned harassing me into some kind of hobby. Nothing obvious enough to report - they're too smart for that. Just constant little things. Bumping into me in hallways. Making comments loud enough for me to hear. Laughing when I walk by.

"There goes coffee boy," I hear Tyler say as I pass their table in the library.

"Think he's learned to watch where he's walking yet?" Marcus adds.

I keep my head down and keep walking, but my hands clench into fists at my sides.

Every time I see Julian across campus, that perfect smile on his face like he owns the world, I want to punch something. But I also can't stop staring. He moves like he knows everyone's watching him, confident and easy, like gravity works differently for him than it does for the rest of us.

It's infuriating.

It's also kind of mesmerizing, which makes me hate myself almost as much as I hate him.

By Thursday, I'm ready to transfer schools. I'm actually looking up application deadlines for other colleges when my roommate, Danny, bursts through the door.

"Dude, you have to come to this party tomorrow night," he says, dropping his backpack and flopping onto his bed. "Everyone's talking about it. It's going to be epic."

"What party?"

"The Morrison party. Jake Morrison's family has this huge house off campus, and apparently, they're throwing some massive thing. The whole hockey team's going to be there, plus like half the school."

My stomach drops. The hockey team means Julian.

"I'm good," I say, turning back to my laptop. "Parties aren't really my thing."

"Come on, man. You've been hiding in this room all week. When's the last time you actually had fun?"

I can't remember, honestly. But that doesn't mean I want to go somewhere I'll be surrounded by people who think I'm a joke.

"I said I'm good."

But Danny won't let it go. He spends the next hour trying to convince me, listing all the reasons why I should go. Free alcohol, hot girls, good music, chance to "expand my social circle."

What he doesn't understand is that my social circle here is basically him and the girl in my economics class, who sometimes lets me borrow a pen.

Friday arrives with more buzzing from my phone. Mom's texts have evolved into full paragraphs about hockey tryouts and family bonding and how proud she is of me for "putting myself out there."

I haven't put myself out there. I've been hiding like a coward.

Maybe that's part of the problem.

"You're coming tonight," Danny announces when he gets back from his afternoon classes. "I already told people you'd be there."

"You what?"

"Look, I know you're nervous about fitting in, but you can't hide forever. These people aren't as bad as you think they are."

If only he knew.

But as the afternoon wears on, something changes in my head. Maybe it's all of Mom's texts about being brave and trying new things. Maybe it's the memory of Julian's cold smile in the dining hall. Maybe I'm just tired of feeling like a victim.

Whatever it is, by the time Danny starts getting ready, I find myself digging through my closet for something that doesn't look completely pathetic.

"Wait, are you actually coming?" Danny asks, pausing with his shirt halfway over his head.

"Maybe," I say, pulling out the one decent shirt I own. It's nothing special, just a dark blue button-down that Mom bought me for high school graduation, but it's clean, and it fits okay.

"Dude, that's awesome! You're going to have a great time, I promise."

I'm not sure about that. But I'm sure about one thing - I'm tired of everyone at this school thinking I'm some fragile charity case who can be scared away by a few mean comments.

I'm tired of hiding.

If Julian Hayes and his friends want to see me as weak, fine. But I'm not going to make it easy for them by disappearing.

"Yeah," I say, looking at myself in the mirror. "Let's go to this party."

Danny grins and claps me on the shoulder. "That's the spirit! Trust me, this is going to be epic."

I'm not sure epic is the word I'd use.