The Penalty Box - Teagan Kade

CHAPTER ONE

NOLAN

A guy wearing nothing but a pizza box walks past. He starts hitting on a girl with a skirt made out of condom wrappers—surprisingly, a fairly cliché choice for a party like this.

The Anything but Clothes party is a Crestfall classic. I’ve attended my fair share, but now, as a senior, I’ve seen it all before. That includes the short blonde in a life jacket and her friend in a bra of hundred-dollar bills.

I’ve gone for the beach towel. It’s simple, effective, and easy to remove should the situation call for it. But I’m not feeling it tonight. There was a time we’d head out together, the twins and me, Peyton once or twice if we could pull him away from the mirror. These days all three of them are too busy with their better halves for juvenile shit like this. In many ways I’m looking forward to leaving this place.

“Nolan King.”

I let my eyes drop to a mousy brunette who’s speaking to my abs. She’s wrapped in a Twister mat, points to the blue circle over her left breast. “Your turn, if you want it.”

Pass, I reply internally, winking instead. “Another time.” I press off the wall and move back into the main throng of the party. Someone’s spinning up Toosie Slide by Brake, dancers doing their best to look simultaneously slick yet apathetic.

“I’m, like, really flexible,” comes the shout of desperation from Twister girl.

I keep moving until I end up at the back of the loungeroom. I pull up next to Clay, our team goalie. He’s gone with the old duct-tape wrap. Given what I’ve seen in the locker room, the poor bastard’s going to be screaming blue murder tearing that shit off.

“See anything that takes your fancy, King?” he asks, scanning the crowd.

I breathe out and slowly shake my head. “Just a whole lot of STDs and regret.”

He elbows me, beer sloshing out of his Solo cup. “Jesus, lighten up, Holden Caulfield.”

“A Catcher in the Rye reference? Fuck me. And here I was thinking all you were good for is catching hockey pucks.”

“And pussy,” he corrects me, with a wagging finger. “Lots of pussy.”

I nod downwards. “If you can even get your dick free of all that duct tape.”

He takes my shoulder, smiling. “Hey, you know what Coach says, ‘Weakness becomes my weapon, and pain my pleasure.’”

“He was talking about working out, not waxing your balls,” I tell him, spotting Twister girl again and doing my best to slink deeper into the shadows—not an easy task considering the place is lit up like Las Vegas.

I’m pretty sure Clay is a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but he’s harmless enough. I don’t know where I’ll end up next year, but I’ll miss the boys—the entire team.

A girl I recognize from the track squad stops in front of Clay, the cling wrap she’s wearing leaving little to the imagination. Her hands glide over Clay’s chest. “It’s like you’re a big birthday present,” she chirps.

Who the fuck wraps birthday presents in duct tape? I want to ask her, but I bite my tongue.

Clay side-glances to me before grinning back to her. “I’m all yours for the unwrapping, baby.” He takes her hand. “Shall we?”

They go off, Track Girl giggling away. I have to laugh thinking about the poor thing dealing with all that duct tape, Clay messing with the cling wrap in return. It will probably be sun-up before either one is naked.

I watch the crowd and once again get the feeling I’m past this. Unlike my dear brothers, I haven’t slept my way through Crestfall. Some say I’m the odd King out, that my shy and reserved demeanor doesn’t suit the surname, but I think it’s a strength. I don’t want a series of quick flings I’m going to forget the following morning. I want something real and lasting, an actual relationship. I’d never openly admit it, of course. That would be high treason around our household.

I think of the kind of relationship my father and mother had. I hated it as a kid, thought their constant tongue-wrestling and pinches on the ass were disgusting, but now I look back at what they had with a kind of deep-seated envy. Even though Dad’s been with Alissa for a number of years now, he’s admitted to me many times, even in front of Alissa, he’d still be with Mom if she hadn’t died.

I indulge in the occasional hookup, have had a couple of relationships—a loose definition of the term—but