Chapter 27 I stand stock still, feet glued to the spot in the laundry room where Noah was just kissing me. My fingers press against my puffy lips as the echo of the sexiest words anyone has ever spoken to me-and probably ever will speak to me-ring in my ears. Wear that and wait for me. My stomach clenches tight at the memory of the scorching look in Noah's dark eyes as he rasped out those words with confidence, with utter certainty, that he knew I'd do whatever he asked me in that moment. I'm not sure how long I stand there in the laundry room-could be ten seconds or ten minutes-before I snap out of my post-kiss haze enough to function properly. I feel like I'm drunk, even though I haven't had a sip of alcohol in months. Honestly, I have no idea how Noah is going to drive himself to an ice rink so he can skate around and hit a puck for the next hour, because my legs are jelly, my head is spinning, and I'm totally intoxicated on everything that is him. Noah's jersey still clutched in my hand, I slowly make my way to the bathroom. As I peel off my tank top and shorts and duck into the shower, I realize how sensitive every inch of my skin feels, still lingering in the remnants of his touch. I've never been kissed like that in my life. Kissing Noah was a heady rush of sensation-every nerve ending in my body alive, sensitive, and responsive to his touch, his taste, his smell. I love how he kissed me without holding back, yet somehow let me feel like I was in complete control. Nothing makes sense right now, because I have no coherent thoughts running through my brain apart from the fact that I want-no, need-more Noah. I wash my hair, then shave my legs carefully. When I'm done, I wrap myself in a plush towel and stand in front of the mirror, looking at my swollen-lipped, flush-cheeked reflection in the mirror. I allow my imagination to dream up how good it will feel to kiss Noah again once he arrives home. We'll have the loft to ourselves. Just the two of us. After blow-drying and styling my hair, brushing my teeth twice, and moisturizing my body from head to toe, I practically dance back to my room. From the bed, Harry Styles studies me-but in a non-judgmental way...I think. 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 have no idea." "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 are not dating. 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 about that 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. Which means it's time. We can pick up right where we left off on that dryer. A dryer I'll never be able to look at in the same way again. My blood turns hot as my mind tumbles past a million scenarios of what could happen when I walk out to greet him in the living room: his mouth on mine, his lips tracing my neck, my collarbones, my hands making their way back to the planes of that incredible chest... "Allegra? Did I lose you?" Mom's laugh carries through the phone, shaking me from my blazing hot thoughts. I swallow. And then I smile. "No, Mom. You didn't." My words feel confident. True. "But I do have to go." "I'm counting the days," she says. "I love you, Mom," I reply, and as we end the call, I'm filled with hope and optimism...coupled with a sharp urge to get myself as ready as possible for whatever tonight holds with Noah. With a mixture of anticipation and nerves, I stand in the kitchen, my hand balling in the fabric of the oversized jersey as the door opens and Noah's large frame fills the entryway. When he spots me, his nostrils flare, which sends a zing of heat through me-but then the corners of his mouth turn down and my desire gives way to confusion. "Hey," I say, wrapping my arms around myself self-consciously. "Ally," Noah's voice cracks with regret, and I'm beginning to think that I've lost my mind. That this was all a big mistake. That he's about to tell me it should never have happened. But then, I hear Fisher's voice. "Move it, Downsby," he says as he shoves past Noah and throws his hockey bag on the floor before heading straight to the fridge. Noah's expression turns pained, and I immediately understand the regret in his eyes is everything to do with Fisher's presence and nothing to do with me. My entire body relaxes. "What's up, Ally?" Fisher asks as he buries his head in the fridge and starts loading his arms up with deli turkey, cheese, mayo, and tomatoes. "Want a sandwich?" "Uh, no, thank you." "I need a motherpucking beer," Penn announces as he makes his way in next, shrugging off his down jacket. But unlike Fisher, when he sees me in the kitchen, his eyes widen. "Why are you wearing an Arlington U jersey, Ally?" He peers at the thirteen on the arm, and his brows fly up-which in conjunction with his buggy eyes makes his expression almost comical right now. "More specifically, why are you wearing Noah's Arlington U jersey?" Noah's cheeks immediately redden, and I'm sure mine are scarlet to match as I stumble over my answer. "Oh, I-uh-I was doing laundry, and it was hanging up in there, so I pulled it on to cover myself when I heard you guys come in." I then try to hurriedly change the subject. "How was practice?" "It was fine." Penn's face morphs from surprised to smirky, clearly not about to let me off the hook that easily. "You do laundry in your underwear, Ally?" "Um, yes?" I lie, thinking that's the most feasible excuse as to why I threw on Noah's jersey. From behind Penn, Noah gives me a sudden, very sexy little smirk, and I just know he's thinking about earlier. The thought of him thinking of me like that makes my thighs involuntarily clench. Meanwhile, Fisher shrugs, clearly unaware of the tension currently fizzing between me and Noah. "Doesn't everybody? Sometimes I even do it naked if I've run out of boxers." "Don't ever do laundry when I'm home, then," Penn says in horror. "I don't want to accidentally see your balls." "Why? My testicles are magnificent, and perfectly manscaped. Plus, you've seen them a million times in the locker room already." "Don't remind me," Penn groans as he picks up a slice of cheese and throws it at Fisher. It sticks to his forehead for a moment before sliding off. While they're both distracted, Noah's dark eyes find mine again. "I'm sorry," he mouths at me. I bite my bottom lip. "Let's watch Matchmaker Mansion," Fisher says as he finishes assembling his gigantic sandwich. Penn, retrieving a bag of Doritos out of the pantry, nods in agreement. "There's a new episode out, right?" He looks at me to confirm, and I nod regretfully. "Right." "I might just call it a night," Noah says quickly, with a surreptitious glance in my direction. "Me too, I'm tired," I add immediately. Fisher shoots us both a withering look. "Stop pretending you hate the show when you clearly love it, Downsby. And make yourself a coffee or something if you're sleepy, Callahan. Roommate bonding time is mandatory, not optional." Noah heaves a heavy sigh, but doesn't argue, and the four of us take up our usual positions on the couch-Harry Styles curled up in Penn's lap tonight-as Fisher turns the show on. I sit with my legs curled up and pull a fluffy white blanket over me. Noah sits by me, his body only inches from mine. About five minutes into the show, he casually adjusts his position, and his thigh bumps against mine. Instead of pulling away, he leaves it there. A minute later, I feel movement beside me, and I look down in time to see his hand disappear under the blanket and his fingers find my knee-thank goodness I shaved my legs. His gaze stays firmly focused on the TV in front of us, his expression impassive as below the blanket-unseen to everyone else sitting here-he slowly, deliberately, runs his rough fingertips over my bare skin. The sensation that runs through me is so heady, that I have to sink my teeth into my lower lip to stop myself from audibly gasping for breath. Still watching TV like nothing is in any way untoward, his fingers begin to work, drawing circles around my knee before he begins to move, dragging his hand all the way up my thigh, then skimming along the hem of my shorts which makes me suck in a sharp breath I disguise as a little cough. Fisher looks over. "Okay there, Ally?" "Just, uh, drank some water and it went down the wrong way." I lamely wiggle my water bottle at him as he nods and turns back to the TV. Beside me, Noah's chuckle is quiet. Low. Meant for my ears only. I shoot him a look, and in response he smirks at me before his fingers return to their path along my legs. His touch is soft yet loaded with intention. He's teasing me...and I like it. The rest of the episode of Matchmaker Mansion feels like it takes forever, and I don't take in anything that's happening, nor any of the guys' running commentary on what's happening on screen, as all the blood in my body (and apparently my brain) has rushed to the point of contact of Noah's fingers on my skin. When the show is finally-finally-over, I'm on my feet in an instant. "Well, I'm off to bed." Fisher frowns at me. "You were really quiet all evening, Ally. Are you feeling okay?" "Yeah, just tired. I need sleep," I say lamely. Noah smiles at me lazily, and heat licks through me. "Me, too." "K, well enjoy being lame, you two," Penn rolls off the couch, phone in hand. "I'm going to call Natalia, see if she's up for hanging out." "Ooh, see if her friend, the hot one-Sarah?-is available too." "I got you, Fishy," says Penn, already tapping out a text. "Enjoy your double booty call," Noah says with a shake of his head. "Enjoy your beauty sleep," Fisher responds sarcastically, giving him the middle finger. "Oh, I will," Noah says softly, like it's a promise, and for the millionth time this evening, my insides curl with the thought of what's to come. Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!