Page 54 of Rookie Season
“You don’t need any makeup,” I say hurriedly, yanking my fingers away. “Your eyes are so dark already.”
He turns those dark eyes on me, and we hold eye contact for a beat before Fisher cuts in.
“Okay, Ally, go get showered and dressed so we can get this party started!” He’s standing by the fridge, pulling out an assortment of alcohol-free beers and what looks like canned mocktails, and once again, I am touched by the thoughtfulness of these boys and their willingness to alter their night to accommodate me coming with them.
“You know, if you guys wanted to go out and party, let loose a little, I’d be totally fine with hanging out here tonight,” I offer as guilt tugs at my stomach. I’m sure these guys want to actually enjoy their Halloween instead of babysitting me.
But in response to my offer, all three mob bosses in front of me cross their arms menacingly.
“Get outta here!” Fisher exclaims in a ridiculous gangster voice, giving me a finger gun. “You’re coming, and that’s final. You’re the mob wife!”
I look from him to the others.
“It wouldn’t be a roommates’ night out without you,” Penn says simply as he scoops up Harry Styles in his arms and starts stroking his head like he’s Dr. Evil or something.
“Go get dressed, Ally,” Noah says, his tone telling me there’s no arguing with him.
This whole conversation makes my heart feel achy, but in a good way. After all of my college friends of almost three years turned their backs on me when the rumors started, these guys accepting me as part of their little family means everything.
“Thanks, guys,” I say a little thickly as I head off to get ready.
I take a quick shower then dart into my room and open my closet so I can examine the nightmarish mob suit Fisher ordered for me. I step into the costume and eye myself in my floor-length mirror, screwing up my face at my reflection. While the suits accentuate the boys’ buff masculine frames, I look like an absolute idiot in mine. Even though it’s technically a girl’s version of the same costume, it’s way too big, hanging off my shoulders and about six inches too long in the legs.
“Why do I even care what I look like tonight?” I mutter to myself.
But deep down, I already know the answer to that question.
I’m happy to be seen as one of the boys, or a loveable kid sister, when it comes to Fisher and Penn…but the more time that goes by, the more I realize that Ireallydon’t want Noah to see me like that.
Not one bit.
I know there’s going to be a million girls at this party dressed up to look gorgeous and glamorous, and, well…I also know that it’s going to be hard for me to watch Noah checking them out.
Looking at them in a way that I want him to look atme.
It’s not that I want to put on a stereotypically “sexy” costume and be ogled. Nothing like that. I just want to feel comfortable in my own skin again.
I alwaysusedto feel comfortable with my body. I liked that I was strong. Agile. Graceful. And I was proud of the hard work I’d put in to get to that point. But for the last few months, that pride has been replaced with shame, and all I’ve wanted to do is hide away, be invisible to the male gaze.
And then I met Noah, who’s making me feel things that Ithought I might never feel again…and making me feel safe at the same time.
So much so that tonight, I want him to look at me the same way he looked at me during his hockey game a few days ago, right after he scored his second goal. With a scalding heat in his eyes that set me alight inside, even in a frozen arena.
But instead, he’ll probably laugh when he sees me in this stupid suit. With a sigh, I remove the ugly costume from my body and hang it back up in my closet. I cannot leave the house in that thing, but I’m also not going to be the killjoy who ruins the evening, so I rummage through my clothes for ideas, and as I do, I catch a flash of gold sequins glinting at the back of the closet.
A dress I’d completely forgotten about.
I reach for the flapper dress. It was part of a costume I wore for a Gatsby-inspired group performance of the Charleston in my freshman-year dance showcase, and frankly, I have no idea how it even ended up among the stuff I packed when I moved out here.
It’s short, covered in golden sequins, with a V-neck and a black fringed hem that reaches the knee. The dress also comes with elbow-length black gloves and a double stringed pearl necklace. It’s fun and playful and feminine…and would make a perfect female accompaniment to the boys’ 1920s gangster get-up.
With a grin, I grab my curling iron and get to work.
CHAPTER 22
ALLEGRA
“We’re goingto have the best costumes in the whole place,” Fisher declares as the four of us are walking up the steps to Deja Vu, the three boys flanking me like big, sexy bodyguards as we make our way to where the bouncers are standing.
