Page 18 of Rookie Season
My roommate doesn’t smile back. Instead, his usually stormy dark eyes are zoned in on where his hand touched my arm, and they look…troubled.
Concerned, even.
Embarrassment coils in my core as I realize it was him touching my arm before. It’s only now that I can process that the touch was gentle; a simple gesture to get my attention.
“Can you come with me for a second?” Noah asks, his eyes finding mine. “I need your help.”
“Beat it, Nepo Baby,” The drunk, leering man’s voice sharpens in annoyance as he looks down his nose at Noah. “Can’t you see you’re interrupting?”
“I need to borrow Ally for a moment,” Noah insists, dark eyes now sparking as he stares evenly at the man in front of us. “Her damn cat’s in my room again, and I need her to get him out.”
Ah.
“And I was just leaving,” I say, finding my voice as I lean towards Noah like a flower reaches for the sun.
The guy rolls his eyes, like Noah is some annoying little bug he’d like to flick away.
But as Noah steps half in front of me now, almost like he’s shielding me, the man seems to size up the situation and decide that it isn't worth his time.
“Whatever. You don’t look like the type that puts out, anyway.”
His words sting like a slap to the face, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me wince. Noah’s calm presence has centered me, helped me find my confidence when the edges were blurring.
So much so that I roll my eyes and retort, “Wow, your mother must be so proud.”
Noah, still at my side, coughs out a surprised laugh.
The guy’s eyes narrow, shooting daggers at Noah. “Girl’s got a mouth on her.”
“Hernameis Ally, and this conversation is over, Sandine,” Noah says in a crisp tone. With that, he’s striding toward the hallway that leads to our bedrooms, me trotting after him like a lost puppy.
When we’re safely down the hall, he stops suddenly and turns to look at me.
“I’m sorry about Harry being in your room,” I blurt at the exact same moment as he asks, “You okay?”
We stare at each other for a second before Noah shakes his head impatiently. “Forget the damn cat. Are you okay? Sandine can be a real dick when he wants to be.”
I laugh awkwardly. “I’m fine. He was just…drunk.”
“A drunk asshole,” Noah says.
“They exist, unfortunately.” I lift my shoulders in what I hope looks like a carefree shrug. “Want me to grab Harry so you can get back to the party?” I offer.
“Wasn't at the party.” Noah jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “I was trying to watch a movie in my room, but your cat kept using me as a damn pillow.”
“Yeah, he does that.” I flush. “I promise I’ll make sure he doesn’t find his way in there again. You’re…not into parties?”
“Nope,” he says in a clipped tone, not offering me any more than that.
For some reason, it’s a reassuring answer. “Me either,” I admit.
Not anymore, anyway.
We smile tentatively at each other, and a glimmer of warmth moves through me.
“Look, I, uh, I know that me moving in here caught you by surprise.” I tuck a sweaty lock of stray hair behind my ear. “And I know it must be annoying to have to share your bathroom. I’m sorry about all my stuff everywhere in there earlier. The bathroom has no drawers, so I went out and bought some containers and tidied it all up. I’ll keep it neater in the future, promise.”
I’m rambling, nervous as I extend my garbled verbal olive branch of sorts.
