Page 1 of Pucking Only

PROLOGUE: GIRLS ARE GROSS

SKYLER

“Skyler,what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Frowning, I look up from the Electronic Gaming Monthly magazine I’m reading and meet the bright blue gaze of my best friend, Grace. I’m sitting on her bedroom floor, my back pressed to the wall. She’s on her stomach on her bed, kicking her feet in the air behind her. Grace’s room is girlier than mine, but I like being here. Her walls are painted a soft pink and covered with posters of her favorite boy bands and teen actors. The posters are lined up perfectly, matching how organized and tidy the rest of her room is.

“Ummm…” I murmur, shrugging. “I want to make video games.”

Grace lets out a burst of laughter. “But video games are for boys. Do you know of any women who are game designers?”

“I don’t know, but by the time we’re adults, I’m sure there will be tons,” I insist. “Why shouldn’t I be able to make them? Just because I’m a girl… it’s so fucking dumb.”

Grace flinches at my curse word. She tucks a loose strand of her brown hair behind her ear and says, “That’s just the way it is. It’s not fair, but what can you do?”

“What do you want to be?” I ask, curiously.

Grace sighs and waves her own Teen Vogue magazine back and forth as she considers her answer. As I watch her, I can’t help but admire how pretty she is. Her hair is thick and wavy. She always wears cute clothes, like flowy pink dresses and colorful leggings. She dresses like most other fifteen-year-old girls do. Meanwhile, my dirty blonde hair is always in a ponytail because I don’t know what else to do with it, and I have to wear stupid, nerdy glasses. I’m usually content with my regular jeans and t-shirt, but today — considering what I’m planning to do while I’m here — I wish I had cuter clothes, like Grace. My Super Mario T-shirt is not likely to turn heads.

“I like taking pictures with my mom’s camera,” she finally answers. “Maybe I could be a photographer or something.”

“I could definitely see that,” I nod. “You’ve got a real eye for detail. I love your photos.”

“Thanks,” Grace says with a wide grin. “There’s got to be something I can do. Something creative. Something that makes me, I don’t know, matter.”

“You matter,” I tell her with a frown. “Why do you think you don’t matter?”

She shrugs. “It’s hard to shine in my superstar brother’s shadow.”

I’m just about to interrupt Grace to tell her how wrong she is, when we both hear her mom calling her from downstairs.“Grace? Can you come down here, sweetie? I need your help with something quick.”

“Coming, Mom!” Grace shouts back. She jumps to her feet and looks back down at me. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

“All right,” I reply, as she runs out of the room.

Waiting until I can’t hear her footsteps anymore I scramble off the floor. This is my chance. I couldn’t sneak away when Grace was in the room, but now that she’s distracted, I can godo what I’ve been planning since I got here. Grace is my best friend and I come to her house all the time to hang out, but today, I’m not here because of that. I’m not here for Grace. Not really.

I’m here for Carson.

Sneaking out of Grace’s room, I hurry down the hall toward Carson’s room. I pass the bathroom and quickly make a stop to check my reflection in the mirror. I push my glasses up my nose and try to smooth back some wispy strands from my ponytail. After a few seconds, I give up. There’s not a ton I can do right now, so I just have to go with it. Turning from the mirror, I continue down the hall to Carson’s room. His door is open. I poke my head inside, but he’s not there. I frown. Dang it! Where could he be?

I gaze around his room for a moment, marveling at the difference between Grace and Carson, even though they’re twins. Unlike Grace’s immaculate space, Carson’s is a mess, like any typical boy’s room would be. Hockey posters are plastered across his walls, along with images of hot actresses in action and comedy movies, like Angelina Jolie, Jessica Simpson, and Megan Fox, which make me roll my eyes. Clothes litter the floor. His bed isn’t made. Being this close to his personal space makes my heart race, even if it’s messy and a little gross.

Leaving his doorway, I continue down the hall to the back staircase, which leads to the back door of the house. If he’s not in his room, he might be out in the yard. He doesn’t usually hang out with us when I’m over, and he spends a lot of time in the backyard by himself.

I tiptoe down the stairs and reach the back door. Pausing, I listen to make sure Grace and her mom aren’t coming to find me. Their voices are soft and sound far away, so I think they’re still toward the front part of the house.

Sucking in a deep breath, I cross to the back door and open it. Slipping outside onto the deck, I pause and look around the yard. My gaze lands on Carson, and my heart immediately starts to race. He’s got his street hockey stuff setup, and he’s shooting goals from the same spot over and over again. I watch him for several moments. He’s already the tallest boy in our class. His dark hair is slightly longer on the sides, so there's a bit of curl around his ears. He’s so cute, and I’m not the only girl to think so. Plenty of other girls from school would kill to be standing right here, watching him like this.

I’m not entirely sure when my feelings for Carson changed. I’ve known him my whole life, obviously, because I’ve been best friends with Grace since we were in diapers. Growing up, he was always like an annoying brother — teasing us, pulling pranks, and telling us we couldn’t play with him because there were “no girls allowed,” or whatever. Most of my childhood was spent arguing with him or avoiding him. Then, one day, something shifted. I just looked at him and he was…different, somehow. He wasn’t a little kid anymore — the height, the more angular face, the new confidence that just radiated off of him. Suddenly, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Couldn’t help but find excuses to be around him. I didn’t even mind his teasing anymore, growing to like it and the attention I felt he gave me when he was doing it.

I want him to see me like I see him. Not as a sibling or a buddy. I want him to see me as an actual girl. And today, I’m going to make that happen.

Remembering I don’t have much time before Grace comes back, I hurry down the steps of the deck and cut across the backyard. As I get close, I can’t help but stop to admire him again. He’s wearing a tanktop and basketball shorts. Sweat is dripping from his forehead and his cheeks are flushed. Carsonis so focused on what he’s doing that he doesn’t notice me until I’m practically on top of him.

“Carson,” I say, sharply.

He looks up at me in surprise, his dark blue eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.

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