Chapter 38 "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 the back 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 with you, 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 not cute," 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. "Are you 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 I used 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." "I hate hugs," my brother declares, but he can't hide his smile as I hug him close. As Dad piles luggage into the trunk of my SUV, my mom squeezes my arm. "I'm excited to meet Fisher and Penn and especially Noah...." She lets his name dangle in the air, sentence unfinished, and I love how while I haven't told her anything yet-I was waiting to introduce them in person-she has already worked everything out. Probably from my constant babbling about him every time she calls. "We're together," I confirm with a smile. "He's really excited to meet you guys." Mom looks delighted. "I did see that picture of him on social media with his nieces at that one game-you know, the picture you're in-and he seems like such a nice boy." "Man," I correct, because there is nothing boyish about Noah. "Man," Mom echoes happily. "My mistake." It's going to be a good day. When we walk into the Lions' practice facility forty-five minutes later, Dad whistles in approval, and even Jamie looks impressed as he looks around him. I smile at the memory of my first date with Noah here as we make our way to the rink. Fisher, Penn, and Noah are all on the ice with their teammates, skating drills. Penn sees us first, eyes bugging a little as he takes in my dad. He waves before poking Noah in the side to get his attention. Noah looks up and it's almost painfully adorable how nervous he looks as he nods and smiles at my parents. Fisher, meanwhile, is staring at my young, pretty mom with his mouth practically hanging open. "That's them?" Mom asks, looping her arm through mine. "My guys," I confirm. "Well, my two guys and my man." "Well, let it be stated for the record, your man is very handsome." "Ridiculously so," I agree. "A very fine hunk of man," Mom adds, then makes goo-goo eyes at Dad. "Just like your father." "Damn right," Dad preens. "Gross, you guys!" Jamie exclaims. Mom throws her head back and laughs as we make our way to some nearby seats. It's not super busy-several seats are filled sparsely with a few friends and family of players, what looks like a high school hockey team-who are studying the guys on the ice intently-and the Lions' media team. "I'm hungry," Jamie whines as he flops down in one of the turquoise plastic chairs. My dad rolls his eyes. "You ate your meal, half your mom's meal, and the nice old lady in the seat beside you's meal on the plane." "That was like, two hours ago." Dad looks at me, blue eyes sparkling with humor. "He's a bottomless pit at the moment." "I can go get you some chips or something," I offer. Noah gave me a tour of the facility last time we were here, and I know where the closest vending machines are. "I want a Snickers bar. And a Mountain Dew. Oh, and Lays, barbecue flavor." "Anything else, sir?" I tease. Jamie gives me the death glare. "I told you, I'm hungry." "Such a ray of sunshine." Dad ruffles Jamie's hair. I hop out of my seat and make my way out of our row. I take the stairs two at a time, then turn the corner to walk towards the back hallways. It's strangely quiet back here compared to the noise of the practice arena. Eerily so. I'm suddenly aware of how alone I am, then a cold stickiness that settles over my skin and makes me feel like I need a shower immediately. "Well, well, well...fancy seeing you here." My blood goes cold at the sound of a familiar but chilling voice. I turn around slowly and find myself face to face with Tyler Whelan. "Allegra Callahan, you're alive," he says with a saccharine smile. I always used to like when he directed that smile at me. Now it makes me sick to my stomach. "We were all worried about you when you seemed to drop off the face of the planet like that, but it turns out you were just here in San Francisco, hanging out with our good friend Archibald." Another cutting smile. "And getting cozy with his teammate." Blood is pounding in my ears, and my thoughts feel jumbled. What's he doing here? Was he looking for 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 for Expressions, 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 about Expressions right 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 the words 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. A confidence in me that makes me feel brave. I swallow. Take a deep breath. And then, I tilt my chin up and hold his gaze as I say, "You're gaslighting me, Tyler. And sure, some of what you just said is true. I agreed to come upstairs with you. I willingly kissed you. And yes, I had some drinks that night at the party, and I was underage. But being buzzed and wanting to kiss you does not make me culpable for what happened. You are guilty of sexual assault, and you should be glad that Fisher came in and intervened when he did so you're not also guilty of more." I shake my head. "But either way, you're the one who has to live with that. Not me." I watch as Tyler's expression morphs from benevolent to enraged as my words land. "You hypocritical little bitch." He steps forward, and I take another step backward, cornered. "You act all holier-than-thou with me and won't put out at the last second, and that's somehow my fault? Then you move across the country and slut it up with half a damn hockey team." He throws his hands up, and I involuntarily flinch as he closes the gap between us... But suddenly, he stumbles backwards. Someone's grabbing him by the back of the neck, pulling him away from me. It's Noah. My Noah. Relief floods through my veins, but it's short-lived, because next thing I know, Noah's fist meets Tyler's face. And then all hell breaks loose. Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!