Chapter 3 Soon after Penn and Fisher leave for their night on the town, I nestle into my king-sized bed and turn on ESPN pre-season highlights. I plan to spend the evening learning how the other teams are playing and familiarizing myself with key players I need to watch out for this season. It might be difficult not to fall asleep though. Fisher's family didn't skimp on the place, and each room has a top-of-the line mattress. When Penn and I met Fisher during the Lions' training camp and he offered to rent us rooms in his family's loft apartment, I hesitated. I like my solitude. But then we saw the place and couldn't say no. Fisher's family is quite wealthy, and it shows. My room is simple with some art hung above the platform bed frame that probably costs more than my car. Modern lamps sit atop the matching nightstands, and the window has a gorgeous view of the Golden Gate Bridge. The loft boasts four large bedrooms, two on one end of the loft and another two on the opposite end. There's a bathroom separating the rooms on both ends and an open concept living room and kitchen in between. It's perfect for four teammates. Except our fourth roommate experienced a career-ending ACL injury a week before training camp ended and moved home to Russia to heal. So now the room opposite mine remains empty, which is honestly even better. My phone vibrates on the bed beside me, and I glance down at the screen. A photo pops up of my sister, Andie, posing with her and Mitch's three daughters-my adorable nieces I'll accept no criticism on. I close my laptop and answer it. "Hey, Andie." "Noah," she rasps before breaking into a fit of coughing. "I need a favor." "What do you need?" I ask, sitting up straight and alert. "I'm dying of the black lung," she says dramatically. "Mitch was supposed to pick Paige up from dance, but he got stuck in a late meeting, and then traffic. And the dance studio is so close to you..." Her hoarse voice trails off. I'm already up and walking into the short hallway that leads to the main area of the loft. "I can get her. No worries." "You're a lifesaver." She breathes a sigh of relief. "Mitch will meet you at the loft to get her in about forty minutes, okay?" Andie starts coughing again. "Sounds good," I tell her. She thanks me again, and we hang up. Fifteen minutes later, I'm pulling up to the small, brick dance studio called Golden Gate Grooves. The parking lot is almost completely empty, and I wonder how long ago Paige's dance class ended. Worried Paige has been waiting a while, I make my way inside quickly. In the lobby, there's a small room with a desk and some chairs, then a large glass window where parents can watch the dance classes. Spotting Paige through the glass, I note that she's the only child still here and internally grimace. When I step through the doorway, I see a young woman smiling and talking to my niece. She's wearing a purple leotard and gray shorts rolled at the waist band. She's incredibly fit with toned legs and arms. Her blonde hair is in a ponytail, and it sways as she speaks to Paige. She's stunning. Maybe I should've taken dance as a kid instead of hockey. I snort a laugh to myself at the thought. Dance? I'm definitely not graceful enough for that. Although, arguably, neither are my nieces. Mitch keeps trying, and failing, to convince Andie to put the three girls in youth hockey instead of dance. Paige looks up and spots me. Her face is the much cuter version of my brother-in-law's as she gives me a glare to tell me she's not pleased with me being late. "There you are!" she exclaims. Paige has her father's features with hazel eyes and dark hair. She also has more of his personality than her two younger sisters, Laini and Harlow. She's intense and focused. But she's much less grouchy than Mitch Anderson is. She stands and runs toward me, hugging me around the legs as tightly as a seven-year-old can. I grin at her, flipping her ponytail with my hand. The blonde woman walks toward us, her expression miffed. Even with her face scrunched up in annoyance, she's cute. More than cute, actually. She's one of the more attractive women I've seen in a long time. She stops in front of me and crosses her arms. "Mr. Anderson, I'm not sure you're aware, but we have a policy for late pickups. If you could pick up more promptly next time, we'd really appreciate it." Oh yeah, she's definitely annoyed. "I'm really sorry it's so late; but I'm not⁠-" She waves a slender hand dismissively. "It's fine," she says in this brusque tone that suggests it's not fine at all. "But I need to get going." The woman smiles at Paige. "See you next week, sweetheart." She offers my niece a kind smile, then turns back to me. Her smile falls. I try one more time to explain the situation. "This isn't a usual occurrence. You see, my brother-in-law got stuck in traffic, so⁠-" The woman sighs. "Mr. Anderson, there's no need to explain. Just please be on time next week." She gives me a curt nod and spins on her heel, quickly crossing the room. "What the hell was that?" I mutter to myself, watching as the tightly-wound dance teacher kneels in front of a gray crate. The angle affords me a very nice view of her very nice backside. Squeezing my eyes shut, I remind myself I don't have time for women. Especially the ones who hate me for no reason. Women are just a distraction from hockey-and my one goal for this year is to have a flawless NHL rookie season...so I'm officially off the market until I hit that goal. No distractions. And actually, it doesn't even matter in this particular case, because I will never see this woman again. With that reminder, I take one more peek at her ass. It's a free country. "Are you staring at Miss Ally's cat? Isn't he cute?" Paige asks. I clear my throat, glancing down at my niece whom I'd forgotten about. Uncle of the year over here. "Um, yeah," I answer, glad she's too young to realize what I was actually looking at. The woman, Ally, lifts up a giant crate, and that's when I hear a cantankerous meow. Ugh, cats. Gross. I'm out of here. I grab Paige's hand and lead her out of the building and toward my practical Honda Accord. Thankfully, I still have Mitch and Andie's spare booster seat from when I took the girls to the aquarium last week. Once we're on the road, I glance at Paige in my rearview mirror. "So, what time does your dance class end?" "Eight," she answers. My eyes flit to the time on my dash. It's eight thirty-five. No wonder the dance teacher was so annoyed. "How come you picked me up, Uncle Noah?" "Your mommy's sick, and your daddy got stuck in traffic. We'll wait for your dad at the loft, okay?" "Okay!" she says, and there's a smile in her voice. The girls think the loft is so cool. "Can I use the hot tub?' I huff a laugh. "Not tonight." There's a jacuzzi on the rooftop with LED lights and hydrotherapy jets. It's perfect for massaging sore muscles after practices. Soon, we're pulling into my designated spot in the parking garage and going up the elevator to the loft. I hit the button for level three, and the doors close. It's only a three-story building, and the elevator doors are soon opening again. Mitch is standing there, already waiting for us. He holds his arms out, and Paige runs to him. He picks her up easily and rubs his beard against her cheek. Paige shrieks and pulls away. "Daddy, stop!" Mitch steps forward, slapping me on the back. "Thanks, Noah. I owe you." I almost mention the first line thing, and ask if he can move me, but I want to be on the first line. Instead I simply say, "No problem." I eye the shiny red door that's bare except for a gold, metallic 3B attached to it. "You want to come in?" He wrinkles his nose. "There's absolutely no part of me that wants to know what goes on in there." I snicker. I could tell him no one else is home, but I really just want to take a proper long, hot shower and go to sleep on that luxury mattress. "See you on game day," Mitch says, walking into the elevator, Paige still in his arms. I nod, and Paige waves as the elevator doors close again. When I'm back in my room, my laptop is still sitting on my bed, and I remember the ESPN highlights. But my eyes feel heavy and tired, so I put that off until tomorrow because the steam shower is calling my name. Stripping my clothes off, I walk naked to my bathroom. Turning on the water as hot as I can stand it, I watch as it cascades from the top of the shower like a waterfall. Steam soon billows around the spacious, tiled room, and I step into the hot water with a deep sigh. I inhale the steam and relish how the hot stream of water soothes the muscles in my back and legs. The only way this could be more perfect, is if I had some music to relax to. My eyes snap open, remembering Fisher said this is a smart loft and every bedroom and bathroom has speakers. It creeped me out at first, but maybe it'll come in handy. "What was the name of the smart assistant...oh right." I shake my head. "Archibald, play spa music." There's a quick blink of an LED light, and then soothing forest sounds emit from the hidden speakers in the room. I close my eyes again, smiling to myself. Is it weird to call out my roommate's name while showering? Probably. Archibald always goes by his last name, Fisher. Understandable, since he doesn't look like an Archibald at all. I'm completely relaxed for the first time all day, the locker room drama and Paige's dance instructor finally filtering out of my head... Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!