Page 11 of Rookie Season
Oh.
“Ye—yes, of course,” I stutter, feeling like a total creep for just standing here staring at him. I stoop to grab Harry and then make a run for it, my pulse hammering in my ears as I make my escape.
Back out in the living room I sink into the couch, heart still thumping a thousand miles a minute.
A few seconds later, Mr. Anderson stalks in, clad in a pair of gray sweatpants.Onlya pair of gray sweatpants, with his wet hair resting against his forehead.
There are beads of water on his bare chest, and for some reason, my mouth goes dry as the Sahara at the sight of this.
“Care to tell me why you’re in my house,Miss Ally?”
“I could ask you the same question,Mr. Anderson,” I reply, standing up and putting my hands on my hips.
“No, I’m not….” He trails off with a frustrated sigh then looks me up and down. “Are you hooking up with Penn or Fisher or something? Because that would be a weird coincidence, Paige’s dance teacher and one of my roommates.”
“What? No!” I point at the stack of my stuff by the front door. “I’m movi?—”
Before I can finish my sentence, the door swings open, and Fisher stands there, grinning and holding a huge brown paper takeout bag. The tattooed guy—Penn, I assume—is a step behind him, smirking as he looks at us.
“Oh good,” Fisher exclaims happily, throwing the bag down on the kitchen island. “Noah, you’ve already met Allegra.”
“Who’s Allegra?” The shirtless man next to me, Noah, lifts a brow.
“Our new roomie,” Fisher clarifies, looking a bit bemused as he points at me.
“No,” Noah corrects blankly. “That’s Miss Ally, my niece's dance instructor.”
Penn snickers. “Maybe she’s a dance instructorandour new roomie, Noah.”
Fisher, meanwhile, stares at him like he’s lost his ever-loving mind. “No, dude, that’s Allegra Callahan. We went to college together. She’s taking over Ivan’s room in his absence.”
“She’s what?!” Noah’s deep voice goes up by about an octave. “No. No way.” He mutters an expletive under his breath, causing Penn and Fisher to gasp in outrage.
Penn points to a large sticker chart that I hadn’t noticed until now tacked to the wall beside the refrigerator. The chart has all the guys' names listed, and there are several frowny face stickers next to each name. Fisher has the most.
“Sticker chart,” Penn says. He moves into the kitchen and removes a frowny face sticker from a sticker sheet and adds it next to Noah’s name. Noah groans.
I’m so confused. What happened to Fisher giving his roommates a heads up about me rooming here?
“Hey, Ally, I’m Penn,” Penn says as he puts the stickers away, like nothing strange just happened. He has a deep, almost gravelly voice that somehow also manages to sound totally calm. Like he just wants everyone to get along. As if to illustrate my point, he adds, “Oh cool, a cat.”
“His name is Harry,” I tell Penn as he crosses the room to pet him. “Harry Styles. The Third.”
“I can’t live with a cat,” Noah sneers. “And why would you name your cat Harry Styles?”
“And why aren’t you home with your wife and your daughter?” I whirl on him, a little sick of his attitude now.
Fisher coughs incredulously. Penn snorts with laughter.
Noah scrubs a hand over his face, his brown eyes flaringagain. “I’ve been trying to tell you; Paige isn’t my kid. She’s my niece. I’m notMr. Anderson—that title belongs to my sister’s husband. I’m Noah Downsby.”
I suddenly remember my earlier conversation with the kiddo— “my Uncle Noah has roommates.”
And I am now one of them.The absurdity of the situation fully dawns on me.
Because I have been living here all of five minutes, and I’ve already chewed him out for being late,andI’vewalked in on him naked in the shower.
Great first impression.Not.
