scoring you

Chapter 22

Aiden

My mind reels and my heart feels broken, my head feels broken.

What the fuck?

What the actual fuck?

A couple days ago Alyssa lashed out on my like a boil of rage. It came out of nowhere and fucking freaked me out.

The words keep replaying in my head like a bad dream. 

You are such fucking dick head, you always fucking have been Aiden! You just pretend that I'm some fucking object that you can prod around- well guess what? I'm fucking not!

I still don't understand what half that shit means but it unsettles me and I fucking hate it. 

Yesterday, in the lecture hall Alyssa walked straight past me like a was un-used bait left to burn in the sun.

She had her hood covering her face and had air pods tucked into her ears with her dirty blonde hair tucked into a messy bun, loose strands covering her face.

She's found a new seat at the very back left corner of the hall next to a group of chatty girls whom she ignores.

I probably seem like a massive fucking creep to anyone watching, but I honestly don't give a fuck because I can't figure out anything with that girl. I often turn around to watch her, hoping to catch her eye for her to actually communicate with me in any fucking way! Even with her fucking eyes, that's how desperate I am!

Though she never tears her eyes away from the professor then when the class ends she tucks her head down and swiftly walks out of the classroom, basically running out of there. And somehow- in some unbeknownst way of which I have no understanding- she is running away from me.

"Aiden!" Coach bellows, "are you listening?"

"Yes coach," I rehearse. 

All of the guys on the team are lined up in unison on the ice.

Alyssa is yet to turn up.

"Where's ya girl, man?" Matthew whispers so only I can hear.

I sneer, "she's not my girl."

"Sure she isn't," he smirks, "she's just a girl who you so happen to like."

"Exactly," I stiffen.

Then the two glass doors open wide and Alyssa steps inside.

She looks flustered, she looks hot- like she's actually fucking sweating which makes zero sense because it's 50 degrees outside and even less in here.

"Your late." Coach states, calling her out Infront of everyone.

Her face turns a bright red, "right. Sorry."

"Do you have an excuse this time?" He asks.

"Coach, c'mon man," Steven says surprising me, "she's just a couple minutes late, no harm done."

He checks his watch, "twenty minutes late," he ticks.

"Same difference," Matthew shrugs, "your just wasting more time now."

Coach opens his mouth before abruptly closing it again, "don't be late again." He says directly to her.

She nods in return before shakily sitting in her usual bench spot.

I carefully watch her ignoring every word exiting the Coach's mouth.

She has her head ducked down in a pile of files which she always seems to be doing. Coach is just too fucking lazy to do his own paper work, I doubt his every done it a day in his life he just finds joy in yelling the fuck outa us.