Page 65 of Rookie Season
I pull on my satin pajama shorts—the ones that always make Noah’s eyes glaze over when he sees me in them—and then slip into Noah’s lucky jersey. Lucky number thirteen. The cool fabric glides over my body, immediately surrounding me with the smell of Noah’s soap.
The desire in his eyes right before he kissed me was blazing, but somehow still gentle.
Like he’d be careful with me.
At that moment, my phone vibrates on the nightstand,snapping me out of my thoughts of him. I reach for it clumsily.
“Hello?” I gasp around the word, apparently a little short of oxygen.
A warm rasp of laughter fills my ears. “Allegra?”
“Yeah?”
“Okay, just checking.” My mom chuckles. “You sound weird.”
I look down at the jersey I’m wearing. “I was just…doing laundry.”
“Sounds like quite the exciting Friday night.”
I exhale slowly as I sink down to sit on my bed. “You havenoidea.”
“I really don’t,” Mom says in her sunshiny, agreeable way. “But that’s why your dad and I were thinking we could come out to visit in a couple of weeks? Jamie has a few days off school, so we were thinking we could come see where you’re living, check out your new city, and, you know…see you.”
Mom sounds wistful, and I know she misses me as much as I miss her. But for the first time since I arrived here, I actually feel like I would be able to see her without totally breaking down. Like I could see her and hug her, and everything would actually be okay.
“I’d like that,” I whisper softly, fingertips tracing the paisley pattern on my duvet cover.
“Really?” She’s trying to act casual, but she’s a terrible actress and the glee in her tone is obvious.
“Really,” I say. “There’s a nice hotel just down the block from our loft; I’ll send you a link.”
“Perfect. I can’t wait. It’ll be so good to see you, Legs.” Her use of my childhood nickname pulls at something deep inside me.
“It’ll be good to see you too, Mom,” I reply with a smile as I get to my feet and make my way into the hallway. “You can meet my roommates and see the dance studio I’m working at.”
I can hear the smile in her voice as she says, “Ah yes, these famous roommates of yours.”
Mom will love the guys. I can see her in my mind right now, standing in our kitchen and stocking our fridge with an insane haul of groceries as she laughs off Fisher’s inevitable “MILF” comments, compliments Penn on his tattoos, but saves her special attention for Noah, asking him gentle questions about himself and listening intently to his answers. My mom is the most intuitive person in the world, and when she finds out Noah lost his parents tragically at a young age, she’ll want to treat him like another son…fuss over him and bake him endless batches of cookies.
Dad will love Noah, too. Sure, he’ll try to act like the tough, stern father figure with a whole intimidating “hurt my daughter and I’ll break your face” speech, but secretly he’ll want to be Noah’s new best friend and be thrilled I’m dating an athlete…
Whoa.
Way to get ahead of myself. Noah and I arenotdating. We’ve kissed once. Like, an hour ago.
But still, the very thought of being Noah’s girlfriend, of wearing his jersey—his name across my shoulders—out in public, at his games, owning the label of being ‘his,’ sends a little thrill down my spine.
One step at a time, I remind myself.
I have no idea if Noah wants or desires a relationship in general. And I also have no idea if I’m even capable of a romantic relationship right now.
What I need to focus on before I can even think aboutthat is myself. On healing the part of me that has felt broken for months now, but Noah has begun picking up the pieces without even knowing.
His kiss awakened something in me again. Something that I desperately want to keep exploring. Something to replace those awful memories with ones that make me smile.
I hear a key turning in the lock, and my stomach flutters in anticipation.
He’s home.
