The Penalty Box - Teagan Kade Page 0,16

showers or gossiping in the corner. We’re alone. “It’s Nolan,” I confess.

And the razor’s back in flight. “What did he do? I’ll cut his fucking throat, I swear to God.”

I reach for her wrist and lower the razor back to her leg. “Easy, Hannibal. It’s nothing like that.”

“He’s not cheating on you?”

“No.”

“Addicted to porn?”

I screw up my face. “Not that I know of.”

The razor stops. “Shit. He’s not gay, is he?”

“Given the terminal case of lady blue balls I’ve got, I really don’t know.”

Carrie looks confused. “But I thought you guys already,” she humps at the air and almost loses her towel in the process. “Did the dirty?”

“‘Dirty’ is the appropriate word,” I tell her. “And it was incredible, but since then, nothing.”

“You can come on a bit strong.”

Only Carrie could get away with telling me that. I fold my arms. “So strong he hasn’t even tried to get into my pants since, not even a quick fingerbang behind the bleachers.”

Carrie shivers. “The bleachers. Ew. Bad memories.”

“Anyway,” I continue. “I have needs, you know.”

Carrie places the razor down and takes a seat beside me, bumps my shoulder with her own. “Maybe you just need to change your perspective a weensy bit, huh?”

“How?”

“Appreciate maybe he’s trying to take his time. Maybe he’s not like his brothers with their dicks out fucking the first thing they see.”

“You do know the other King brothers are spoken for now, right?”

Carrie waves it off. “Miracles will never cease, blah-blah-blah, but we’re talking about Nolan here. You said it yourself, he’s not like the others. He clearly wants more than sex. The question is, do you?”

And there it is, Carrie laying it out in legible black and white.

I nod firmly. “I do.”

Carrie stands and places her foot up on the bench, going back to shaving the Amazon forest that is her right calf. “My work is done.”

“Hmm,” I muse, looking back to the wall and thinking through this new so-called perspective. I do want more. I think I want more with him, and it’s there, in that newfound appreciation of his approach, I start to see the light.

“He’s not like the others,” I repeat to myself.

“What was that?” asks Carrie.

“Nothing,” I reply, smiling now and reaching for the back of my bra.

*

I send Nolan an eggplant emoji followed by a question mark.

He replies with a peach.

It would seem we’re both ready for another roll in the hay then. God knows I need it.

It’s Wednesday evening and I’m supposed to be meeting him at the Athenium for a movie. Offerings are thin in Crestfall. We’re usually running a month or two behind the mainstream releases in the US, though I wasn’t planning to do much watching, per se.

Practice has thrown me, though. Has seeing Nolan made my game suffer? It’s hard to tell. I should be behind that by now, a psychological concrete wall, impenetrable and impervious to external influence.

Should, I think, lingering on the thought.

I decide to double practice hours, spend extra time in the gym making up for it. The best cure for feeling sorry for yourself is action. My mother came up with that one, has always had that go-get-’em attitude of endless positivity. Fuck knows how she came to be with my father. The guy’s basically a black hole, sucking all life into it, feeding and feeding until there’s nothing left.

I shake my head and swipe my jacket from the back of the door, smiling to myself in the knowledge Nolan’s going to find something scant and lacy if his fingers do go fishing tonight.

I write Mom a note and leave it on the kitchen table, closing the front door behind myself and pulling in a deep breath. The weather’s welcome outside. It’s warm and fresh, the kind of world where even the wind seems full of possibility.

My car’s parked on the street. I’m halfway to it when I hear doors opening on the other side of the street. My eyes go to the black Mercedes four-wheel-drive parked there, two goons emerging from the back seat and powering their way over. They’re suited up and I don’t imagine it’s because they’re headed to the opera.

They run over to me, scanning the street for witnesses.

Fucking Dad, I think.

But they’re not getting their grubby hands on me.

I turn and prepare to sprint…only to collide straight into the brick wall that is goon number three. I hadn’t even seen him approach. Asshole was probably hiding in the bushes.

He grabs my wrist and twists my arm high