Page 3 of The Penalty Shot (Totally Pucked 5)

He shakes his head, glancing down at the sketchbook next to him. “Still working on the dragon. I was talking to my teacher this week, and she told me that she thinks I should submit this to our art fair. I don't know, Ash…I feel like I’ll get made fun of even more.”

His words cause my spine to stiffen. I fucking hate that he’s getting picked on at school, and I’m not entirely sure what to do about the situation. He confided in me, swore me to secrecy, but fuck, I'm worried about him.

“Did you do what I told you to?”

“Yeah, but they still flushed one of my drawings down the toilet.” He shuffles uncomfortably on the couch, swallowing. “I’m not strong enough to take on all those guys, Ash.”

Leaning forward, I hold his gaze, my jaw ready to crack from the pressure of gritting my teeth together. “You hold strong, kid, and don’t let them have that power over you. Tell a teacher, tell your mom, hell, punch him right in the dick if that’s what it takes.”

Alex giggles. “Pretty sure I’ll get suspended if I punch someone.”

I shrug. “Better than him tormenting you every day. Have you tried mentioning it to your mom?”

“No, I don’t want to, you know, stress her out any more than she already is. She has a lot of stress right now.”

Fuck, this kid is only eight years old, and he’s being bullied in school, and all he can think about is the stress his mom is under. Not the fact that he’s getting his ass handed to him almost daily from these asshole little kids.

“Talk to her, Alex. She needs to know what’s going on.”

For a moment, he’s silent. He gazes out past me to the buildings and skyline beyond, then after a few moments, he nods.

I don’t press; I just pull my sketchpad out and get to work because this is what we do. We work in silence together, offering the other company to be a little less lonely, and at the end of the day, I want to be someone he can confide in. I want to be up here, so he’s not alone, and so I can make sure that he’s okay. I’m really starting to worry about the bullying though, and if he doesn’t tell his mom soon then I’m worried I am going to have to go to her.

As I finish the outline of my drawing, I begin setting the framework for her body. For the rest of the night, the only thing that infiltrates my mind is Neighbor Girl.

Chapter Two

Asher

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,”comes from the voice from behind the oversized brown grocery bag. The bag is almost as big as she is, obscuring her face, leaving only her cut-off jean shorts visible from the waist down. She’s trying to juggle the bag, keep the elevator door from closing, and see where she’s going all at once.

“Here, let me help,” I say, stepping in front of the door to keep it open. I reach forward and carefully lift the bag from her hands.

Only then, does her face come into view.

Neighbor Girl.

Her cheeks are flushed red against her pale skin that’s lightly speckled with freckles. They’re scattered along the delicate bridge of her nose and along her cheeks. She’s not wearing makeup and her hair is in a long braid with only the smallest amount of that fucking lip gloss that haunts my dreams dabbed on her cherry red, ripe lips. So innocent. Or so you’d think when looking at her.

“Oh, uh, t-thank you. You don’t have to do that, I can just set it here on the ground.” She averts her gaze, laughing nervously, and it hits me directly in the gut. The sweet, melodic sound filling my ears like the best symphony I’ve heard.

And then I realize. This is the first time we’ve ever actually spoken. And suddenly, I feel like I’ve swallowed my damn tongue.

“Not a big deal. We haven’t met yet, I’m Asher,” I say, holding out my free hand for her to grasp. Her soft, tiny palm slides into mine, and I grip it gently and shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hi-i, I’m Auden. Nice to meet you too.” Her cheeks are rosy red as she nervously plays with the ends of her hair after letting go of my hand.

Auden.The name rolls around on my tongue, tasting far sweeter than I had anticipated.

At the same time, we both reach for the button on the elevator, choosing the same number, seeing as how we’re neighbors. I’ve seen her exiting her apartment a few times as I was coming home from the gym or practice, but I’m not sure she’s ever really seen me. Our hands bump as we both reach for the same floor and she pulls her hand back quickly, rubbing the spot where our skin touched as if she was singed.

“Oh, you’re going to twelve too?”

I nod, a small smile threatening to turn my lips up. “I’m in twelve J.”

Realization hits her, and her pale blue eyes widen in surprise. “Oh wow, I’m twelve K. We’re neighbors.” Another nervous giggle. She looks down at her hands and fidgets, still mostly avoiding my eyes.

I can’t help how my eyes drag down her body, drinking in the simple pair of jean shorts and t-shirt she’s paired with it. Plain black sandals on her feet. Nothing about her screams over the top, and if anything, her makeup free face, the braid, and nervousness makes her that much more beautiful.

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