Ching Pucca Novels & Stories

“Callahan! Quit showboating and run the power play again!” Knox laughed—actually laughed—and flicked the puck to a teammate so smoothly it looked choreographed. Then, because the universe clearly hated me, the puck took a weird bounce off the boards and rocketed straight toward the bleachers. Straight toward me. I had half a second to think, This is how I die, before it smacked the metal seat next to me with a sound like a gunshot. I yelped, jumped up, and promptly slipped on a rogue chunk of ice that had somehow migrated onto the floor. My arms windmilled. My dignity took a nosedive.

Luca By morning, the fight was everywhere. I woke up to forty-seven missed calls and a text from my publicist that was mostly capital letters. The clip had been viewed eleven million times before midnight. Sports analysts were doing frame-by-frame breakdowns of the moment I dropped my gloves. Commentators were calling it a meltdown, a loss of composure, a side of Luca Devereaux nobody had seen in a decade. One panel show ran a fifteen-minute segment titled The Captain Cracks and used photographs of my face mid-fight that I had not known existed until that morning.

Then the doors opened, and Carla Pucci, dressed in a blood-red skirt and jacket, strode inside. Her eyes found mine, and her lips immediately twisted downward. She took a few reluctant steps toward the table before looking around. “Nice plants... but I would never taint such a room with paints and brushes.” I breathed out a laugh. “I love to paint, and my husband thought this would be a perfect place for my workshop.” I gestured for her to sit in front of me.

POV: KAI The press box smells like musty coffee and old popcorn. I sit in the back row, laptop balanced on my knees, hoodie zipped to my chin. The collar still hides most of the mark, but I feel it every time I swallow. Like a reminder I can't delete. Game starts fast. Puck drops. The crowd roars. I type without looking down much—habit now. The Ice Hawks are up early, but it's not the score I'm watching.

As the time flies, Sheira began to become impatient, she texted Blake earlier the name of the restaurant where they should meet after going home early to prepare for the date, but he was still not there. "He won't break his promise, doesn't he?" she said. "Sorry, I'm late..." the voice said behind her and she immediately smirked devilishly and seductively turned around to him just to found out it was not Blake but Pocco. "The heck, Pocco? What are you doing here?" she grumbled. Pocco was stunned at how Shiera looked, she was wearing a fitted red mini dress that revealing her cleavage too much... and her makeup, her lips was as red as her dress.

A deep blush crept up on Stacy’s cheeks. Bruce let out a cough. "Are you done eating, Pookie? You know it's bad manners to scream while eating. You shouldn't do that again,” He scolded but Cherry didn't even pay attention to his scolding. "Pookie?” Stacy was a little surprised by the nickname Bruce had called Cherry.

“...Marcus.” The carnival booth looked like it had survived a small tornado. Wooden bottles were scattered on the ground. A table was tipped over. Stuffed animals were everywhere. One huge panda hung halfway off the counter. Juliet stood nearby with both hands over her face, trying not to laugh. Across from her, the booth operator was red in the face. “And I’m telling you,” Marcus argued, “these balls are too big for that little hoop!” “They are not!” “They absolutely are!” “They’re normal size balls!”

Target: Get drunk and get laid. So I moved through the dancing bodies, nodding my head to the beat and grabbing another cup as my previous one was empty. But as some of the girls sidled up to me, twirling their hair, my irritation grew. One puck bunny I’d seen sucking Matt’s dick under the stairs tried to slide her hand up my arm, but I just knocked off her ugly nails and glared until she backed off. Just great Dorian. I muttered to myself, aware I was blowing any chances I had with the ladies.

Peach is looking at the wall clock. Obviously not focusing on their teacher. And when the bell rang, she smile and run straight to the cafeteria. But a masculine body interrupt her happiness. Who ever owns this yummy body doesn't helo anything. She wants to eat. And here she is. She's about to run her mouth and say nasty thing but when she look up she saw her crush face. "What the heck do you want Prince Caspian?" Peach ask. Yes, she likes him but that doesn't mean that he can stop her from craving for takoyaki.

I’m just about to take a bite when I hear a loud crash. I look up to see Luca is raging. His pancakes are on the floor. The plate smashed as china shatters over the tiles. “Luca,” I ask, shocked he has a temper, but not normally like this. I walk around to his bench, staring down at him as all the chatter goes quiet. “Clean this mess up,” I demand as his bottom lip juts out. To my surprise, he puffs his chest out.