Page 50 of Rookie Season
I skip over a bunch of the sexy, sultry tracks until I land on “Unstoppable” by Sia.
Perfect.
I smile. Press play.
And then, I let go. Turn my mind off and allow myself tofeelthe music coursing through me, the empowering words of the song guiding me as I move. It’s all improvisation—no choreography for now, just messy and wild and reckless, like I’m throwing paint at a wall and seeing what sticks—but nothing has ever felt so natural to me.
I’ve missed this desperately.
I get so carried away that when the song ends, I’m breathless and sweaty. A few loose hairs have escaped my bun and are stuck to my forehead.
I exhale hard, bent over with my hands on my thighs, a feeling of pure satisfaction pumping through my veins.
A slow, steady clap cuts through the labored sounds of my own breath, and I jolt my head up to see Noah filling the doorway of the dance studio. He’s dressed in his impeccably tailored navy-blue gameday suit, his hair glistening and damp from the rain, and he’s staring at me with pure admiration on his face. He claps once more and then stops and walks toward me.
“How long have you been standing there?” I demand.
He gives me a crooked smile. “Long enough.”
CHAPTER 20
NOAH
I know practicallynothing about dance. My entire life has been wrapped up in athletics, and I’ve been constantly surrounded by athletes. But I can confidently say I’ve never once seen someone move as gracefully and passionately as Ally just did. She’s talented. Incredibly so. I could have watched her all day. This woman was meant to dance, meant to tell a story through her art.
I now have two goals: having the best NHL rookie season I can…and getting Ally to dance again. In public.
She can’t hide this talent away from the world. I don’t know why she left her dance program at USG, or why she no longer dances aside from teaching classes, but whatever the reason is, it can’t keep her from doing what she was clearly born to do. I won’t let it.
“What are you doing here?” she asks, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. Her tone is carefully neutral, but there’s a flush painting her cheekbones, like she’s embarrassed.
I shove my hands into my suit pockets, feeling suddenly shy that I’m here right now instead of driving to the gamelike I should be. “When you texted saying you were still at the dance studio, I noticed it was raining and didn’t want you walking in this weather.”
She blinks up at me with those big brown eyes of hers. “Noah Downsby, you’re just a big softy, aren't you?”
Only for beautiful dancers who bake delicious cookies.
“Just being a good roommate,” I answer with a shrug.
She smiles. “More like just being a gentleman.”
“Are you about ready to go?” I ask, dodging the compliment, even as my cheeks heat.
“Yeah, let me grab my bag.” She disappears behind a door that has a staff sign on it then appears again a moment later with a sweatshirt pulled over her leo. She looks tiny in the baggy garment, and it has a smile tugging at my mouth.
“Ready.”
When we walk out the door of the dance studio, we both break into a run for my car. It’s pouring rain. By the time we slide into the car, we’re both laughing and wiping our wet faces.
“I’m glad you picked me up,” she says through her laughter. “Thank you, Noah.”
“It’s nothing.” I start the car and turn out of the parking lot to begin the short drive back to the loft. I keep my eyes focused on the road ahead as I say, “You’re really talented, Ally.”
In my peripheral vision, I see her glance at me before her gaze turns down to her lap. “Thank you,” she says softly.
“You should start dancing more…like outside of our kitchen.” I sneak a look at her and I’m surprised to see an expression of determination on her pretty face.
“Maybe,” she says quietly, like she’s saying it more to herself than to me, and once again, I find myself sure there’s more to the story here than meets the eye. And again, I feelalmost magnetically drawn to the idea of peeling back those layers of Ally’s, discovering more about the person she is under her bubbly and sassy but sweet surface.
