Page 91 of Rookie Season
ALLEGRA
“You look ever so handsome,”I say as I finish straightening Harry Styles’s new pink checkered bowtie and then give him a satisfied nod. In response, my cat swipes at the bowtie with his front paw and then glares at me before turning his head away. “What?” I hold my hands up. “I think it looks great.”
Noah rolls over in my bed and chuckles. “He’s mad you’re dressing him in pink. My man Harry is more of a purple and turquoise guy.”
“Nonsense. This pink bowtie is the height of men’s fashion. Plus, he’s got to look his best for Grandma coming to visit today. She misses her favorite—and only—grandchild desperately. Especially since Harry Styles the second passed away last year, may he rest in peace.”
Noah looks up at me, all soft smiles and crinkly eyes. “You’re bonkers, you know that?”
“Stop pretending you’re not just as obsessed with Harry as I am.” I jump onto the bed next to Noah and lean over to kiss him. I’m just planning to give him a little peck, but when my lips brush over his, Noah wraps a hand around theback of my head, threading his fingers through my hair as he pulls me closer and kisses me hard. I immediately respond, angling my head to take the kiss deeper and tugging his bottom lip with my teeth in the way I know he loves. Noah makes a noise deep in his throat as his hands move to slide down my body and over my hips, and in one swift motion, he tugs me forward on the bed, so I’m straddling him. My loose hair waterfalls onto his bare chest and his arms wrap around me as he kisses me with a raw, almost desperate, passion that’s underlined with something achingly tender that I can feel in my very soul. This man lights me up from the inside.
“Forget the cat, I’m obsessed withyou, Ally,” he murmurs against my throat before pressing his lips to my skin.
“The feeling is mutual,” I tell him as I run my fingers lightly over his pectoral muscles, watching in fascination as they flex under my touch. “But as much as I want to stay here with you all day, you’ve gotta get that cute butt of yours up and out the door to practice. You have a game to win tonight, remember?”
“My butt’s notcute,” he grouches.
“Fine.” I snort a laugh. “Hot butt. Sexy butt. Manliest man-butt on the planet.”
“That’s better,” Noah says, nipping my collarbone playfully with his teeth as he sits up. He then rubs his eyes, still sleepy. “So, you’re picking your parents up from the airport at ten, then you’ll come by our practice facility after?”
“Yup.”
“And you know how to get there?”
“You sent me the directions. Twice. And I’ve been there before, on our skating date. Remember?”
“Just making sure.” Noah’s brow furrows slightly. “Areyou sure you don’t want me to send a car to the airport for them? Or get them an Uber?”
I shake my head. “I wanna pick them up.”
“Can you text me when you arrive at the airport?” he asks. His protectiveness is sweet, even though I’ll be fine. But Noah expressed to me how anxious he gets about me driving—especially with how he lost his parents—and if texting him my whereabouts puts him at ease, then I’ll gladly do it.
“Of course,” I answer. “We should get there in time to catch the last half hour or so of your morning skate, but if traffic’s bad or their flight is delayed or something, they’ll still get to catch you in action tonight.” Excitement bubbles up in me for the day ahead. Mom and Dad offered to take all four of us out to lunch so they can get to know my roommates before tonight’s hockey game, and the guys all readily accepted their invitation. I can’t wait. I’ve been on such a high since the audition yesterday—it felt incredible to nail that routine, my first public performance in months, and Noah was there to see the whole thing. Just like I’ll be there for him tonight.
“Thank you,” Noah says softly as he gets up from the bed. He’s just wearing gray sweatpants and a sexy smirk, and I feel like the luckiest girl in the world.
“Just don’t forget your lucky jersey.” I grin at my boyfriend.
“Nah.” Noah looks at me with a smile that melts me to my core. “Don’t need it anymore, not if you’re gonna be there.”
His comment has me smiling throughout the rest of the morning as we get dressed and eat breakfast before the boys head to the practice facility and I drive out to the airport. On the way, I blast the old One Direction songs my mom and Iused to sing along to in the car when she drove me to my dance classes growing up.
And a few minutes later, when I finally step into my mom’s arms, feeling her soft warmth and familiar cherry blossom-and-vanilla perfume surrounding me, it feels like the final piece of my happiness puzzle has been slotted into place.
“You’re here,” I say into her honey-colored hair—a few shades darker than mine—as I clutch her close, not wanting to let go.
When we finally break away, her kind brown eyes go from crinkled in happiness to dismayed, and her gentle hands come up to wipe away tears from my face I didn’t even know were falling.
“Hey,” my mom coos softly. “What’s wrong, Legs?”
“Nothing, I’m just happy.” I shake my head, smiling and crying at once.
“We’ve missed you so much.” My dad steps forward next, wrapping me in his strong arms and giving me a squeeze. Dad’s only a year older than my mom, and at thirty-eight, he’s still one of Hollywood’s most desired actors with his trademark blue eyes and winning smile—in fact, countless heads are turning in our direction already.
“Can we go?” Jamie says with a pout, all baggy pants and tweenage attitude. “People are looking again.”
“C’mere, squirt, you know you want a hug.”
