The Boyfriend Game by P-HarpercollinsPubl


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									The Boyfriend Game
Author: Stephie Davis

I rested the ball on my hip and walked back toward the equipment shed. In the dark.Alone. With a boy.I
would be completely freaking out over varsity soccer tryouts if it weren't for the new student, Graham,
who's helping me practice. He has the most amazing green eyes, curly brown hair, and perfect legs.
Plus, we have lots in common, since all we both care about is soccer! Well, that's all he cares about. But
my heart beats so fast when we're on the field together . . . and I don't think it's just from all the running

The afternoon sun was beating down on my shoulders as I watched an evil leer light up the face of my
best friend, Sara Myers. Her long legs were like sticks below her shorts, and there was the faintest gleam
of sweat over the upturned nose that she swore was her only decent feature. "Just try and stop me,
Trisha," she taunted, her dark curls bouncing with each step."Just try and get by me," I shot back,
grinning as she got closer. It might be just a routine one-on-one drill on a Thursday afternoon of JV soccer
practice, but it was always a lot more than that when I was going one-on-one with Sara.Sara was better
than me at soccer. And she didn't even try. I busted my butt. And she was still better. Totally bugged
me.But she hated the fact that over the summer, I'd gotten a real figure and she was still as skinny as
ever, so we were even. Especially since we'd totally make the trade if we could. She'd take all the
attention I got from guys in a heartbeat, and I'd give that up in a minute if I could have her soccer skills.
Actually, I'd give it up in a minute for free, if I could. Only six weeks into my freshman year of high school
and already I was tired of the boys treating me differently than they used to. Hello? What was wrong with
noticing I played good defense, instead of commenting on how my shirt fit?Sara's smile faded into
concentration, and I focused on every angle of her body, trying to anticipate what move she'd pull to try to
get past me. My muscles tensed, and I felt the zip of adrenaline that I loved, the sensation of power that
had me running for the soccer field every afternoon, totally pumped to sweat and yell and forget about all
the baggage of my day at school. On the soccer field, it wasn't about boys and girls or how I looked. It
was about how good you were. It was my favorite place to be."Hey, Trisha! Looking good out there!"Sara
sucked in her breath, and I scowled at the sound of Kirk Nichols' obnoxious voice, not even bothering to
glance at the sidelines where I knew he'd be standing with his loyal shadow, Ross Crane. Probably
wearing Nike sunglasses, baseball hats, and faded jeans, like they always did, knowing just how to dress
to look good.Well, they were cute, but they were also idiots, so I shut them out and concentrated on
Sara. Her gaze flicked toward Kirk, and I grinned. Oh, she was so busted. Keep yelling, Kirk. One little
distraction was more than enough for me to take her out."Trisha! Hey, Trisha Perkins! You gonna come to
Pop's tonight with me, or what?" Kirk shouted.Sara scowled at me. I bit my lip and quickly adjusted to
her sudden increase in intensity. Great. So now she was going to take it out on me that Kirk was yelling
my name and not hers. Classic Kirk. Always screwing up my life."Sara! Tell her she has to come!" Kirk
shouted.Sara's cheeks turned pink and she shot a quick look in his direction. I lunged forward to take
advantage of the distraction, my cleats grabbing the turf as I plucked the ball from between her feet. She
spun around, and I dodged her, making a snarky face at Kirk, who was yelling something about how he
liked my new haircut. He should be shouting about my great steal, not making some stupid comment
about my hair. So typical of Kirk, and of guys in general. I turned my head to glare at him . . . and noticed
a guy standing next to him and Ross.The guy was taller than them, had short dark hair, and was wearing
soccer cleats. And shorts that showed off his oh-so-muscular soccer legs. He was holding a soccer ball
against his hip, his arm hanging loosely over it. Who the heck was he?Before I knew it,...
Author Bio
Stephie Davis
lives with her husband and two black Labradors, Oscar and Kip, in Beaverton, Oregon. You can visit
Stephie online at

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