Page 1 of One Pucking Secret
Prologue
Chloe
The wind whips throughmy hair as I pedal faster, my heart racing for reasons beyond just getting to the party. The late Saturday afternoon sun dips lower, casting the streets in a soft, golden glow. I’m cutting it close, but I refuse to miss this chance.
Wyatt Banks will be there.
The thought sends a jolt through my chest. Wyatt, with his effortless charm and those piercing blue eyes that seem to see through everything. He’s the guy everyone knows—popular, talented, completely out of reach. But tonight, I might actually talk to him, maybe even catch his attention.
The streets are mostly empty, but I can feel the buzz of the weekend in the air. As I swerve around the corner, my mind drifts to what I’ll say when I see him, how I’ll act cool and composed for once.
Then—out of nowhere—he steps into the street.
I yank the handlebars. Too late. My tires skid, my stomach drops, and before I can brace myself—
Thud!
I hit the ground hard, my bike toppling to the side, sending a jolt of pain through my body. I groan, wincing as my wrist throbs from the impact.
“Whoa—Chloe? Are you okay?”
I blink up, and there he is. Wyatt Banks, towering above me, wide-eyed, yanking his earbuds out. His blue gaze sharpens as he kneels beside me, worry etched across his annoyingly handsome face.
“I… uh, yeah, I’m fine,” I mumble, trying to laugh it off despite the sting in my knees and the embarrassment burning my cheeks. “Just testing gravity. Seems like it’s still working.”
He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You sure? You don’t look okay.”
His concern catches me off guard, and suddenly, the pain in my wrist is the least of my worries. I open my mouth to insist I’m fine, but the words get stuck in my throat. Being this close to him, feeling his attention on me—it’s like the world has shrunk to just the two of us.
“I’m fine,” I start to say, but my voice falters.
“Let me help you,” he says, cutting off any protest.
Before I can argue, he’s already slipping his arm under mine, lifting me effortlessly to my feet. His touch is warm, steady, and I hate the way my heart stutters from the contact. The last thing I want is to look even more pathetic in front of him.
“I can manage,” I insist, trying to pull away, but my legs betray me, wobbling under the weight of the fall. Wyatt steadies me, his grip firm but gentle.
“Right. Because you’ve totally got this under control,” he says, a hint of teasing in his voice as his eyes flicker down to my scraped knees.
I roll my eyes, feeling the embarrassment creeping up my neck. “Okay, maybe not. But I’m not going to fall apart over a little spill.”
“Good to know.” His lips curl into a smirk, and for a moment, I forget about the pain. He glances at my bike, lying in a sad heap beside us. “You heading somewhere important?”
I hesitate, glancing in the direction of the party. “Just… the party.”
“How about I walk you back to your dorm? You should probably clean up those scrapes before anything else.”
“I was heading to the party…” I start to protest but trail off when I catch his expression. His eyes lock onto mine, and I feel the air shift between us, something unspoken hanging in the space.
“You should take care of yourself first,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “The party can wait.”
“I don’t want you to miss it,” I murmur, glancing back toward the street.
He gives a small shrug, his lips quirking up into a grin. “Already made an appearance. Besides, I’ve got practice early tomorrow. Hockey season, you know?”
Of course, he’s dedicated to his sport. It makes sense he’d be off his feet early, prepping for his next big game. My chest tightens, a mix of admiration and nerves making my head spin.
I nod, feeling a strange flutter in my chest.
