Lucky Ball

by Lisa N. Paul

  LUCKY BALL

  a novel by

  Lisa N. Paul

  Lucky Ball

  Copyright © 2016 by Lisa N. Paul

  Cover design by Sommer Stein of Perfect Pear Creative

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  To those of you who lost your way, drifted from your path, or lost faith in yourself (even momentarily)…

  To those of you who knew exactly what you were doing, where you were heading, and just how you intended to arrive…until you didn’t…

  Learn from your mistakes, laugh at your silliness and move forward on your life’s journey.

  You may be different from the people around you, that doesn’t make you strange it makes you…

  LUCKY

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Prologue – From This Night On

  Chapter One – Where You’ve Allowed Yourself To Settle

  Chapter Two – Never Ceases To Amaze Me

  Chapter Three – Kiss Some Cuties

  Chapter Four – You’ll Have No Regrets

  Chapter Five – Does That Chick Have A…

  Chapter Six – I’ll Worship Your Body

  Chapter Seven – My Sources Say No

  Chapter Eight – I’m Busy, Take Care

  Chapter Nine – There Are Three Choices

  Chapter Ten – Can I Get You A Lick

  Chapter Eleven – I’m Not Going Anywhere

  Chapter Twelve – Mr. Meowgi

  Chapter Thirteen – Dave The Douche

  Chapter Fourteen – Just Can’t Bring Myself To Do It

  Chapter Fifteen – Logan Ender’s Kiss

  Chapter Sixteen – My Dreams Will Now Be Sweet

  Chapter Seventeen – Relax, Fred Flintstone

  Chapter Eighteen – Touch This Cookie and I’ll Break Your Fingers

  Chapter Nineteen – Pimps And Hos

  Chapter Twenty – What, This Old Thing?

  Chapter Twenty-One – Go Be A Rock Star

  Chapter Twenty-Two – Loud And Clear

  Chapter Twenty-Three – Rock God Possibilities

  Chapter Twenty-Four – The Fortune Ball Is Never Wrong

  Chapter Twenty-Five – Come Pick Your Balls

  Chapter Twenty-Six – Wishing I’d Made Different Choices

  Chapter Twenty-Seven – My Reply Is No

  Chapter Twenty-Eight – Desperate Times

  Chapter Twenty-Nine – Lucky

  Chapter Thirty – Where’s Your Side Kick?

  Chapter Thirty-One – All Signs Point To Yes

  Epilogue – The Only Answer I’ll Accept

  Preview of BLOCKED

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Prologue

  From This Night On

  “Do you wanna go first?” The smooth orb rested in Wren’s hands. Its weight sent a thrill zipping up her spine.

  “No way. First turn is yours, birthday girl. So shake it, baby, shake it. Make that ball your beeyatch,” Emmy chanted, excited in the way only a best friend could be. “Bring it to your lips and ask the question out loud, Wrenny. That’s how these kinds of balls work, you know.” Emmy winked, mischievousness sparkling in her pale gray eyes.

  Earlier that morning, during their routine flea market shopping excursion, Wren and Emmy had happened upon a table covered with retro toys and tees—the kinds of things sixteen-year-old girls squealed over—and squeal they did. Parting with hard-earned cash wasn’t easy for Wren, but shopping with Emmy made it worth the while.

  “Here, I saw you looking at this and knew you would never buy it for yourself.” Emmy had handed Wren a bag as they strolled through the crowded parking lot back to Emmy’s car.

  “It’s the Fortune Eight Ball! Emmy, you shouldn’t have. Eeep! But I’m really excited you did.” Wren had wanted one of those balls. The Ouija board game freaked her out, but the cute little black ball was… adorable.

  “It was three dollars, Wrenny. Your birthday was a month ago, and I still haven’t given you a gift, so it truly was the least I could do.” Emmy was the most generous person, even if she wasn’t the most careful. Backing her car out of the garage before opening the door—again—meant Emmy was reimbursing her parents instead of buying birthday gifts.

  “This truly is the coolest gift, Ems. Thank you.”

  Sitting on the bed in Wren’s room, Wren rolled her gift from one hand to the next.

  “Wrenny Jamison, if you don’t shake that ball in three seconds, I’m gonna take it and use it myself.”

  Sure, Emmy may have giggled after she spoke, but Wren had no doubt her impatient friend would do exactly as she promised.

  Damn it. Wren wanted to ask her new toy a specific question, but a niggling sense of anxiety made her fear the answer. So instead, she tossed out something safe. “Should I wear my white tank top to the party tonight?”

  After giving the black ball a sturdy shake, she stared at the small window until the answer appeared through the dark blue liquid.

  –My Reply Is No–

  “What? But that’s my favorite top,” Wren whined as she stared at the words in hopes that they would somehow change.

  “Of course you should wear the white shirt. You look amazing in it. Besides, that was a lame question.” Emmy plucked the ball from Wren’s hands. “Will I be the prettiest girl at the party tonight?” Emmy’s gaze met Wren’s. “Present company excluded, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  Emmy shook the Fortune Eight Ball as if the outcome of mankind rested on the pending answer.

  –It Is Certain–

  “See?” An infectious smile curved Emmy’s mouth. “That is one smart ball. Now”—she shoved the sphere back to Wren—“ask it the real question.”

  Sighing, Wren cradled the ball in her palms. There was no use in playing dumb. For years, she and the rest of her high school’s female population had been admiring Thurston Mills from afar. A grade above Wren, and practically a Greek god, the boy held “look but don’t touch, stare too long and melt” status. However, over the past few weeks, something had changed. Something that made Wren’s insides mushy and her superior intelligence vaporize when she needed it most.

  Thurston seemed to have taken quite a bit of interest in her. Maybe it was her new haircut or the little bit of makeup she had just started wearing (things she had resisted for years until recently, thank you, Emmy Thomas). Whatever it was, Thurston Mills had noticed Wren.

  Wren had caught him staring at her during the c
ouple of classes they shared. She felt as if someone was watching her, and it turned out it was he—from across the room. Thousands of butterflies flapped in her belly, making her giggle and making her nauseated.

  Naturally pretty, with dark hair and blue eyes, Wren had caught the attention of teenage boys long before Thurston Mills, although that attention probably had more to do with her cup size than the color of her irises. Yep, her boobs—or as she affectionately referred to them, her melons—had developed at a young age, rendering her a mystery to boys and a threat to girls.

  After years of rejecting requests from her male counterparts to prove her melons were in fact… organic, Wren had chosen to keep her body to herself. Therefore, at sixteen, the only things she had ever shared with boys were kisses, and that was fine with her.

  Until Thurston’s stares had turned into smiles, his waves to winks and conversation. Walking from class to lunch became the greatest four minutes of each day.

  Things Wren had never before felt began to simmer inside, leaving her to question what was real and what wasn’t.

  People were noticing and talking—“the Football God and who?” It was practically front page news in the school paper. Wren didn’t revel in attention; she also didn’t hide from it. However, the thought of being gossip fodder for the whole school made her apprehensive.

  Thurston had kissed Wren for the first time at her front door. He’d waited for her in the parking lot after school, flashed his dimples, and asked Emmy if she would mind if he borrowed her driving partner for the afternoon. Emmy had thrown Wren in Thurston’s direction and sped away before Wren could say a word in protest. His kiss took her off guard while taking her breath away. It may have been short, but it packed one heck of a punch. Best kiss ever.

  That night, the text messages began. Thurston sent short sweet notes, which surprised Wren at first since she hadn’t given him her own cell phone number. He was cute, adorable even, proving once again that he was nothing like the arrogant jerk she had expected the high school golden boy to be. Judging a book by its cover, Wren, shame on you.

  After the second week, other than the texts and a few quick calls, Wren had only seen Thurston at school. While his glances stayed heated, he seemed a bit distant otherwise. So when he offered to drive her home midway through the week, thoughts of another kiss had Wren practically panting with excitement.

  That time, the embrace took place in the front seat of his car. The kiss was like none she’d ever experienced—even better than their first. He’d cupped her cheek, his tongue deepening the kiss and consuming her. He took her to a place her young body had never known. As goose bumps spread across her skin, Thurston moved his hand from her cheek to her shoulder, sliding slowly until he reached the side of her breast. Something instantly tightened in Wren’s stomach. Indecision? Fear? Without thought, she slowly broke the kiss while gently moving his hand from her shirt-covered chest to the console between them.

  His dark brows raised in confusion before narrowing in understanding. “Oh.”

  “I’m… it’s just… not yet, okay? Soon though, all right?” The weight in her gut felt heavier by the minute.

  “No problem, yeah. I get it,” Thurston replied, a blank look on his beautiful face. “You’re still, ah… coming to the party on Saturday night, right?”

  “Do you want me to?” Wren questioned.

  “Of course.” The glint in Thurston’s eyes looked like excitement.

  Okay, maybe I didn’t mess up this whole thing by rejecting him. “I’ll be there.”

  She wasn’t sure if he could see the relief on her face, but she felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders as she got out of the car.

  A good guy will wait until you’re ready. Her parents’ advice resonated in her ears. Obviously Thurston Mills was a good guy. It didn’t matter that she had barely heard from him since that day. After all, three days was no big deal. Right?

  “Wren, I’m aging over here.”

  Emmy’s whining snapped Wren from her memory-induced haze. The Fortune Eight Ball was still firmly in Wren’s grasp, waiting for the next question to wake it up and make it do its job. “Okay, fine, here goes nothing. Should I let Thurston Mills get to second base with me tonight?”

  Emmy’s hand rested on Wren’s shoulder as Wren shook the new toy. Her heart thumped in time with each heavy shake, uncertain as to which answer she truly wanted to appear in the small round window.

  –My Reply Is No–

  Before Wren could decide if the answer was good or bad, Emmy grabbed the ball and tossed it onto the bed. “That ball is crazy. It’s stupid. It’s a crazy stupid toy, Wren, and it should not be listened to.”

  “Um, that’s the same ball you claimed was practically brilliant just a few minutes ago when it said you would be the prettiest girl at the party tonight.” Wren giggled.

  Pouting, Emmy stared at the bed. “Yeah well, it’s obviously on the fritz now. Damn thing needs to take a nap or something. You know that Thurston is a great guy. He’s hot, Wrenny. Like super hot. All he wants to do is touch your boobs. I know it’s a big deal for you. You’re waiting for someone special, but maybe it’s him. I haven’t seen him with anyone else at school. I think he’s really into you. So give the boy a chance to squeeze the organics. You’ll love it, I promise.”

  Even though uncertainty bloomed in the back of Wren’s mind, she decided Emmy was right. Thurston had been nothing but a gentleman, and maybe he was the special guy she had been waiting for. “Okay, I’m gonna let him get to second base.” With her mind made up, a smile slowly stretched over Wren’s lips. “There will be melon squeezing tonight.”

  Giggles erupted in the room, and the planning continued throughout the afternoon and into the evening. Emmy convinced Wren that a special bra was in order for the girls’ debut, so they decided a quick trip to Victoria’s Secret, followed by a late lunch at The Cheesecake Factory, was the best way to start their preparations.

  By eight o’clock, each girl was tricked out with the right hair, outfit, and shoes—everything that makes for the perfect entrance into a high school party.

  “Eeep, the whole basketball team is here—as well as the football team.” Emmy’s gray eyes bugged as she squeezed Wren’s hand. “There’s a whole lot of hotness in one house.”

  Wren glanced around the large rooms, seeing who was in attendance but mostly noticing who wasn’t. “I don’t see him, Em. Do you think he’s a no-show?”

  Disappointment threatened to consume her. The fear that she might never get to kiss Thurston Mills again felt icky. If only she could turn back time and not push him away.

  “Wren, Wren, did you hear that?” Emmy’s eyes met hers, excitement clear in her face. “He’s here! I just heard someone say he’s in the pool house outside. Let’s go.”

  Blades of cool grass tickled Wren’s feet through her sandals as she and Emmy hurried through the yard. The chilly night air didn’t seem to stop people from playing in the pool and hanging out half naked on the deck.

  “Jeez, I thought they were cute fully dressed”—Emmy ogled a few of the guys in the pool—“but shirtless… wow. After we find your guy, I’m nabbing one of those for myself.”

  Wren shook her head, muffling her giggle behind her hand. With her other hand, she laced her fingers through Emmy’s, hoping to absorb her friend’s bravery or, at least, gain physical support as she walked the last few feet to the pool house where she would offer part of herself to the boy she’d been dreaming about for over a year.

  “It looks like you lost this time, Thurston, so pay up.” A high-pitched voice traveled from the pool house through the door that had been left ajar.

  “Yeah,” a second feminine voice said. “Even you, with all your charm, couldn’t get to second base with Little Miss Prude before the Memorial weekend party.”

  Emmy’s grip tightened on Wren’s hand, but neither of them moved away from the door. Rooted to the ground, they listened as Wren’s n
ightmare unfolded inside the tiny house before them.

  “Had I had a few more days, I’m confident I’d have rounded that base and most likely stolen third.” Smugness laced every one of Thurston’s words. “Not that it matters, girls, ‘cause from where I’m standing, even though I lost that bet, I still won. Drop your panties, lay down, and I’ll gladly pay my debt—one Thurston Third Base Orgasm each.”

  The girls squealed like piglets as bile churned in Wren’s stomach. She was about to walk away and leave the scum where it belonged—outside on the ground.

  And she would have… until Thurston said, “Hurry, gotta make this quick, girls. I heard she was coming tonight, and bet or no bet, I’ve put time into this project. I plan to get my mouth on those—”

  “What?” Not a clue as to how her feet had taken her from the grass into the pool house, Wren’s blood surged, carrying anger and humiliation to every cell.

  Barely seeing her two classmates hurrying to cover their naked bodies, Wren trained her eyes on the once painfully beautiful, and now just painful to look at, boy on his knees in front of her. Just because causing a scene wasn’t how she normally operated didn’t mean she couldn’t think on her toes. Quick wit and fast comebacks were one of the things she and Emmy had in common.

  “Wren—” Thurston stood, his eyes wide while his face remained blank.

  “I was a bet?” Wren turned her attention to the girls now dressed and kneeling close together on the carpet. “Thurston must have wanted your third base a whole lot more than he wanted my second… hmm, that, or you two are a whole lot easier than I am. Judging by the looks of it, I’m thinking either option is possible.” She returned her attention to Thurston. “You put time into me? A few text messages and some kisses?” Without thought, Wren stalked up to the boy who had occupied her fantasies and now crushed her dream. “Do you see these?” She cupped her white-cotton-clad chest, the new bra making her boobs look better than ever. Courage, or maybe insanity, took control over her brain as she squeezed her breasts. “This is the closest you will ever get to them.” She jerked her chin to the girls still on the floor. “You want boobs so badly, there’s four to enjoy.”