Page 93 of Rookie Season
Blood is pounding in my ears, and my thoughts feel jumbled. What’s he doing here? Was helookingfor me?
“I saw you dance yesterday,” Tyler adds, still the picture of casual innocence.
“You did?” I ask, my stomach bottoming out as I look for a way to get out of here.
“Sure.” He smiles. “I had an inkling you’d be at that audition.”
“How?” I whisper.
“That photo of your little Lions-player boyfriend blowing kisses to his nieces was all over social media—and there you were in the background, looking at him like he’s prince charming. Didn’t take a genius to put two and two together and figure out that you’d gone crying to Fisher in San Francisco.”
My heart is in my throat. “So…you…came here to find me?”
“Yes and no. You left the auditions before I could speak with you, so I dropped by here this morning to have a word with Fisher, see if he’d tell me where you were working or living—but luckily for me, you’re here. What are the odds.” He says this like a statement, not a question. Like this is all some happy accident.
I’m so confused I can hardly think. “But why are you in San Francisco in the first place?”
Another smile. “My aunt is on the casting panel forExpressions, so I’m officially here to visit her. She scored your audition, you know.” He crosses his fingers. “We’re really close, my aunt and I. She values my opinion.”
The implications of what he’s saying—and not saying—are resoundingly clear, but honestly, I don’t care aboutExpressionsright now. I just want to get away from this creep.
“I have to go,” I say, forcing my voice not to wobble as I sidestep to move around him.
He steps forward at an angle, so his body is blocking my path to the narrow hallway. “Not so fast.”
I glance backwards, but where we are standing puts us perfectly out of view of all of the spectators watching the practice. My family can’t see me. On the ice, the guys are taking turns shooting the puck at the net, and I’m not sure anyone could hear me scream over the noise. The nausea in my stomach intensifies, but I channel every ounce of strength in me to keep my expression neutral, my voice calm. “What do you want, Tyler?”
“I want another chance,” he says, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was attempting to look…remorseful?
I blink, sure I’m seeing things. “You can’t be serious.”
“Let’s give it a shot. Tiffany and I broke up.”
“No,” I spit.
“Why not? We were a great team, perfect dance partners. And I feel like we had an opportunity to be more, but it slipped away when you moved so suddenly.”
I stare at him, shock and confusion pulsing through my veins. My head is spinning. I don’t understand any of thewords he’s saying to me right now, what he could possibly be getting at.
“You assaulted me, Tyler!” I exclaim.
“Assaulted you?” He chuckles richly. “Oh please, Allegra. You wanted me for months and you finally had your chance with me that night.”
“You and I both know that’s not what happened.” I’m trying so hard not to cry, my eyes physically hurt. “And then, you lied about it to everyone and made it look like I tried to seduce you away from your girlfriend.”
“Let’s not kid ourselves here. Who kissed who first? Who willingly came upstairs with me when I asked? You wanted me.” He blinks slowly, smirking. “You’re a handsy drunk, that’s for sure.”
I’m shaking all over, and I bring my hands to my temples, pressing my fingers there. He’s making me feel like I’m crazy, like I’ve somehow fabricated this all in my mind, added mental embellishments, when the facts are that I consumed alcohol. I went upstairs with him. I can feel myself starting to spiral…
But then, I look at him. Really look at him, right in the eyes.
Cold, cold eyes full of nothing but icy hatred.
He’s lying.
He’s at fault, you didn’t do anything wrong.
The voice in my head speaks in Noah’s voice, not my own, and in my mind’s eye, I see my boyfriend, my pillar of strength, looking down at me with those chocolate brown eyes of his that are filled with love—and not just love, but also respect. Admiration. Belief in me.
