Packed in the penalty bo.., p.1
Packed in the Penalty Box, page 1
part #1 of Pucking Alphas Series
Packed in the Penalty Box
Melissa Huxley
Contents
A note from the author:
Chapter 1
Molly
Chapter 2
Molly
Chapter 3
Grayson
Chapter 4
Molly
Chapter 5
Molly
Chapter 6
Molly
Chapter 7
Grayson
Chapter 8
Molly
Chapter 9
Grayson
Chapter 10
Molly
Chapter 11
Grayson
Chapter 12
Molly
Chapter 13
Molly
Chapter 14
Maverick
Chapter 15
Molly
Chapter 16
Molly
Chapter 17
Grayson
Chapter 18
Maverick
Chapter 19
Molly
Chapter 20
Zach
Chapter 21
Molly
Chapter 22
Molly
Chapter 23
Grayson
Chapter 24
Nils
Chapter 25
Molly
Chapter 26
Nils
Chapter 27
Molly
Chapter 28
Molly
Chapter 29
Molly
Chapter 30
Grayson
Chapter 31
Molly
Chapter 32
Molly
Chapter 33
Molly
Chapter 34
Maverick
Chapter 35
Grayson
Chapter 36
Molly
Chapter 37
Molly
Chapter 38
Zach
Chapter 39
Grayson
Chapter 40
Maverick
Chapter 41
Molly
Chapter 42
Molly
Chapter 43
Grayson
Chapter 44
Molly
Chapter 45
Molly
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A note from the author:
Hello there! Thank you for reading Packed in the Penalty Box. This book is written in British English so if some spelling is a bit odd to you, that’ll be why! If you find any issues with the manuscript feel free to ping me on facebook or at melissahuxleyauthor@gmail.com.
Chapter One
Molly
All I wanted was a quiet night in—was that too much to ask?
When I happened to be rooming with the human equivalent of a golden retriever . . .
Yes. Yes, it was.
I had a test on the Plantagenet succession on Thursday, and I didn’t feel prepared for it in the slightest. Having gathered textbooks, procured copious snacks, and donned my comfiest pyjamas, I’d settled on the sofa and prepared to cram. I had just started reading a chapter of Marxist learning theories when Alexis, my roommate, came in through the door, dressed impeccably as always in skintight black jeans, ankle boots with a heel impossibly tall, and a tight white T-Shirt with a deep V neck, her blonde hair flat ironed to perfection.
Two steps into our small apartment, she peered over me—penguin pyjamas, hair in a messy bun, and raccoon eyes because I made the mistake of wearing mascara to class that day—and let out a sigh.
“You cannot be serious, Molly! It’s Friday night. What are you doing here?” Placing her keys on the kitchen counter with a loud jangle, she rounded the breakfast bar to look at me in disappointment.
I groaned internally. Why was my roommate such a social butterfly? Putting down my book, I pinned her with a stare. “Well, isn’t it clear I’m planning world domination here?”
Alexis snorted. “Liar, plus the only fun domination is the bedroom kind, and I think it’s been a while since you saw any of that! Trent doesn’t count.” She plopped down unceremoniously next to me, her familiar cocoa scent comforting.
“Once I graduate, I can focus on that kind of fun. Now let me work!”
Pulling the book away from me, Alexis snorted. “No, not happening. What sort of friend would I be if I didn’t convince you to leave this sad little setup? Your exam is days away, one evening out won’t kill you.”
Raising my eyebrows, I pinned Alexis with a glare. “If memory serves, death was a very real possibility when hanging out with you during the first few weeks of first year. I recall an alpha frat party?”
“I was acclimating! I had no idea what my alcohol tolerance was, it was a baptism by fire. At least now I know just how much tequila it takes to make me happy, and how much it takes for my pants to suddenly disappear for any sporty boy that comes along. It’s not my fault you spent our first year going on historical walks and other boring things like that. You’re an omega, Molly! Have some fun.” Her nose scrunched as she spoke.
“Lex, we live in a historical city with buildings that are centuries old! Don’t you find that the least bit interesting?” There was more to life than boys and sports, but those were Alexis’s favourite pastimes.
“I was interested for like, ten minutes. I quickly became more interested in the clubs and various activities that are way more fun. Now, get out of those penguin pyjamas and come to the game with me.”
I groaned. Hockey. While I didn’t loathe the sport to the extent I hated football and other sports, I’d never considered myself a sporty person. Never enjoyed doing them or watching them. If someone loved sports or played them, then more power to them. My roommate, on the other hand, was a bona fide Puck Bunny.
Puck Bunny was an American term that had delighted me once I discovered the meaning, because it fit my stunning roommate to a tee. They were girls who went to games and desperately attempted to exclusively date hockey players. In our early days of living together, I made the mistake of asking her what the appeal was, and I received an hour-long lecture on how the rigorous training and exercise that hockey players were forced to undergo meant that they were gifted with rather impressive physiques. Alexis didn’t use those words, exactly. Instead, she simply explained about their bodies and proceeded to make several panting noises and grabby hand gestures to indicate her interest.
Normally a swift no to her prodding for a night out would have worked, but Alexis had recently been cheated on. While she did her best to act aloof and uncaring, I knew her well enough to ensure there was always ice cream in the freezer. Usually Alexis would drag her boyfriend or one of her close female friends to the game, but given the recent issues with her ex, she was suddenly a lot more isolated than usual. My friend was hurting, and if there was anything I could do to make her feel better, I had to.
“You won’t stop bugging me until I agree to come, will you?” I knew it was a mistake to study in the living room. I should have just hidden in my bedroom, where Alexis wouldn’t find me. Maybe I should have pretended to be asleep. Who am I kidding? Alexis would have dived into the bed and woke me up while jumping on the bed in excitement.
“Nope, so go get changed!” Alexis pulled me off the sofa, grinning in victory.
“Okay, let me feed Potato and get dressed,” I said.
Alexis grinned. “Deal.”
Groaning, I got up and headed to my room, ignoring Alexis’s demand I put something sexy on, or at least something with a bit of cleavage. Instead, I opened my wardrobe and grabbed the first pair of blue jeans my hands touched, ankle boots, and a large yellow hoodie. Since white and gold were the Polar Blades team colours—as Alexis had reminded me many, many times—the hoodie seemed appropriate.
I quickly filled Potato’s food dish, my sweet, chocolate Mini Lop. She hopped right up to me as I fed her but gave me a right grumpy glare when I popped her back into her enclosure. I couldn’t have her running free—the adorable rabbit would eat all my cables.
Alexis gave a small sigh of disappointment when I exited my room and she saw my clothing, but I pinned her with a look that made it clear she would accept my more modest choice of clothing, or I just wouldn’t go. I had my limits, and Alexis knew that.
“You could have at least done something with your hair.” Alexis moaned as we gathered our keys and phones to leave.
I shrugged. My hair was secured in a topknot, and despite how tight it was, some of my bangs and small tendrils of hair were still falling out. “It needs a wash, so it’s this, or I go wash it and we miss the game . . .”
Alexis’s eyes widened, and she quickly finished gathering up her things. “Never mind! It will do, even though you could borrow some dry shampoo, give it some volume . . .”
“I’m good. Trust me, it’s past dry shampoo. This is the only acceptable hairstyle if you want to be seen with me in public.”
“Say no more, my greasy little French fry. To the abs!”
I rolled my eyes. Alexis’s obsession with male abs was almost comical at this point.
The tram ride down was quiet. We lived only a short ride from the City Centre, where the arena was located. I had been there a few times because there were two Olympic-size ice rinks. Our city was the only one in the country to have two. When I first started attending the university, I had visited several times and attempted to skate. Af
Alexis had changed into a T-shirt with the team logo emblazoned on it. Originally a high neck shirt, Alexis had taken some scissors to it in order to aptly show off her considerable . . . assets. Due to this, she was getting plenty of looks on the tram, but I did my best to ignore it. I was happy for her.
The arena was bustling when we got there. We’d both brought small bags, so it didn’t take long to get through the bag search. Although, Alexis lingered at the bag check point, making a point to lean forward and make small, simpering noises she thought would attract the young, relatively handsome security guard. Once through, she linked arms with me in a playful manner, grinning.
I shook my head at her. “I swear, the way you act, it’s like you’re a total airhead. Most men must have an aneurysm when they realise you study engineering.”
“Guys don’t like a smart girl who is going to earn more than them. Usually, as soon as they learn my projected income upon graduation, they get all self-conscious. I don’t plan on keeping any of the men I meet while studying. They’re more for . . . entertainment purposes. This way, I can wait until my future job to meet a guy I want to settle down with, have babies with and all that wonderful stuff.” She paused in thought for a moment. “Or I’ll bag a super high-up hockey player. His income will dwarf mine, and he won’t be self-conscious as a result!”
I should have known Alexis would soon be talking about hockey players.
“Where are we sitting?” I asked as we entered the arena, lining up to get our tickets scanned and head into the rink.
“Block fourteen, front row! I thought they would be good, plus we are right by the home team bench, so maybe we will see some of the players, you know, up close and personal. They sometimes even give out their sweat towels!”
“Firstly, eww. I don’t want sweaty athlete towels. Secondly, why do you?”
“Because, maybe when they pass it to me, they’ll see what a catch I am. Our eyes will meet and boom! Love at first sight. Do you want any food?”
We lined up at the stalls just outside the rink and ended up getting a frozen Coke for me, a glass of wine for Alexis, and a large portion of fries to share. I had never really noticed the sheer size of the arena—it must have held thousands—and there were people bustling around, all of them decked out in jerseys or team-themed sweatshirts. The fans were clearly proud of their team; they turned out in droves. It was enough to make me feel slightly claustrophobic.
“Is it always this crammed?”
“It’ll be better once we get to our seats. Follow me, the player warm-up should have started by now!”
The ice was empty as we took our seats, the players about to come out for warm-up. We were rinkside, with a clear view of the entire rink, and a few seats to our left was a barrier between us and the bench for the home team. We were seated behind the barriers, which were a solid blue for the first foot, then clear plastic, there to protect us from any errant pucks, apparently.
“We seem to be directly in the line of fire,” I said, leaning over so Alexis could hear me over the noise in the arena as we sat on the plastic fold-down seats.
“They’ll probably crash into the glass a few times, but don’t worry, it’s safe. Look at all the puck marks and dents. This stuff has taken a beating without breaking. Just always keep an eye on the puck, and don’t be too startled if some players crash into the barrier, okay?”
“Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you!” I chuckled, praying that I didn’t jump too much if anything hit the barrier. I was a scaredy-cat and didn’t want to embarrass myself.
Alexis offered me a fry, smiling. “You’ll be fine, just enjoy the show. Here they come for warm-up now!” She nodded toward the ice and, sure enough, almost twenty hockey players glided out, one of them tipping over a box containing multiple pucks, which they all descended upon, taking one and gliding off with impressive speed.
The whole arena was surprisingly warm, considering we surrounded what was essentially a field of ice. I was starting to regret my decision to wear a hooded sweatshirt. I had naively assumed that ice meant cold, but the thousands of bodies packed into the arena had resulted in a considerable rise in temperature.
Alexis excitedly swatted at me, her eyes never leaving the ice. “Look! There’s Moskoviz—he’s Canadian, built like a tank, with long hair. He can say hello to me any day!”
I struggled to determine which player she was pointing at, they were all moving around so quickly. “Which one?”
“Number fifty-four. You can see him there, his hair is clearly visible,” she said, knowing the number made it a lot easier for me to spot them.
“How can you even tell how he looks? You can’t see anything through all those pads and helmets!”
“I’ll show you a picture of him out of gear on my phone during the break, You’ll be drooling.”
I opened my mouth to say I doubted it, but was interrupted by a puck hitting the barrier not far from us with a resounding bang that made me jump. It hit several feet away and still startled me, much to Alexis’s amusement. I worried how I would react if it hit a bit closer or if a person hit the barrier.
“So, the game is played in three periods, each twenty minutes long, with a twenty-minute break between each. Our teams are in their white and gold jerseys tonight, and the Arctic Flames, our opponents, are in blue, so we shall be able to tell them apart easily.”
“What happens if the team we are up against has a similar jersey colour? It must be pandemonium.”
“We have three different coloured jerseys we could potentially wear—the yellow and gold, a black one, and a green one. They tend to pick whichever colour contrasts with the opposition’s best, to ensure the folks in the cheap seats can see well. Didn’t you notice all the different coloured jerseys for sale before we entered the rink?”
“Oh yeah, now that makes sense.”
The booming voice of the commentator filled the arena, halting our conversation, as it would be impossible to hear each other over the music.
“Welcome to the Polar Blades! Tonight's a league game sponsored by our local building society. Can I hear you make some noise for the Polar Blades? Good!”
I joined the audience in cheering. It was hard not to; the atmosphere was infectious. The fans didn’t hide their enthusiasm. The commentator announced the mascot, who came gingerly onto the ice, dressed in their polar bear suit, and roused the crowd into clapping. After a few more statements of player changes and advertisements, it was time to announce the players as they individually came onto the ice. Leaning close, Alexis took the opportunity to give me her own special commentary as each of the players came out.
The Polar Blades glided onto the ice, their grins noticeable. Each player was announced by the commentator, and graphics and photos appeared on the jumbotron. Alexis took the time to discuss every player.
Now he is practically ancient for a hockey player, but I would still go there.
He’s been here for a few years now, I even met him once.
He signed my shirt once, his hands were so close to my boobs I almost fainted.
Golden boy of the season, he’s scored the most out of any player.
Nobody likes him, I think he will be off the team before the season is over.
He’s new this year, from America, got exiled over here after he beat the living crap out of a referee on the ice.
Ah, I love the Swedish players, so handsome!
I did my best to keep up with the rather one-sided conversation while keeping an eye on all the players skating out. They all looked alike to me; their helmets covered most of their faces, and their uniforms were all the same. One or two had shoulder-length hair that they’d refrained from tying back, opting to let it hang out from their helmets instead. I could only really identify them by the large numbers plastered across their backs and in smaller print on their sleeves.
