Chapter 5 This apartment is insane. Insane. In fact, apartment isn't even the correct word to describe this place. I stand in the doorway to Fisher's place, Harry in my arms, as we take it all in. It's a modern, industrial loft-fully open floor plan with double high, exposed ceilings and huge picture windows with gorgeous views of the city. Beautiful, classy modern art hangs on the red brick walls, and warm, cozy textures abound throughout. "Woah," I breathe aloud. It's a far cry from the off-campus housing I've just moved out of-a small corner room in a crumbling three story with plumbing issues. Originally, I was meant to spend my junior year this year sharing a sleek townhouse with four of my friends I'd been close with since we all met at freshman year orientation. We had it planned for months-had even all pitched in to buy patio furniture and endless fairy lights for the cute postage-stamp sized yard so we could throw parties there. But then, the day before the semester started, I could suddenly no longer access our group chat. Thinking there'd been a mistake, I messaged the girls individually. No response all round-except a clipped message from Nina, the bossiest of our group, letting me know my room had been filled by someone else, and I needed to find alternate housing arrangements. Then she blocked me before I could ask what was going on. At first, I couldn't understand what on earth had happened. But as I walked through campus on the first day of classes, enough whispers and stares followed me that I knew whatever it was, it was bad. I hadn't even seen the Instagram posts at that point. "Screw them," I mutter. I'm three thousand miles away from all of those lies now, and I need to free my mind of it if I'm ever going to move forward. A sudden wave of exhaustion crashes over me. I'm glad to have the evening here to myself, and with one more appreciative glance around the loft, I set Harry down. "Home sweet home." He immediately takes off like a bat out of hell, a streak of black and gray as he runs through the living area and veers off left down a hallway. "Harry, wait!" I call, chasing him. I don't want him to find a random open window and make a run for it. I race down the hallway to the right, half noting the trail of discarded clothing on the floor-undoubtedly from a messy boy who got ready in a hurry to hit up that bar tonight-as I skid through an open door... And through a billow of steam and a crescendo of spa music, I'm greeted by the sight of a bare-assed man in the shower. A very, very muscular ass, I might add. But honestly, that's the last thing on my mind as I stare through the glass shower door in horror. "Aghh!" I choke out, stepping backwards and immediately tripping over Harry, who's now circling around my legs. I move to the side, and Harry hisses, alerting me that I'm stepping on his tail. I jump, which of course sends me stumbling into a laundry hamper. "What the hell?!" The man's voice is equally choked as he whirls around to stare at me sprawled over the laundry hamper like a wet towel. He clasps his hands around his...er...junk, and when our eyes meet, I almost fall over again. Because the naked man in the shower is Mr. Anderson. Paige's dad. And he-quite understandably-looks mad as all hell right now as recognition settles over his handsome features. "You!" he exclaims, his eyes so wide, this would almost be comical if it wasn't the most embarrassing thing in the world. My instinct tells me to get the hell out of here, but my feet feel frozen to the spot. I look up at the ceiling so I can avoid any further eye contact with his very naked, very wet, and very hot and muscular body. "Do you mind?" he demands, and my eyes fly back to meet his. Which is a big mistake, because I can't help but notice how pretty his eyes are-long dark lashes framing coffee-with-a-splash-of-cream irises. And what is wrong with me? This guy is an asshole, and he's married to Paige's mom. "Mind what?" I ask, my mind in a total daze. His expression turns almost pleading as he tilts his head towards the door and says, "Can you please just get out of here so I can get a towel and cover up?" Oh. Oh. "Ye-yes, of course," I stutter, feeling like a total creep for just standing here staring at him. I stoop to grab Harry and then make a run for it, my pulse hammering in my ears as I make my escape. Back out in the living room I sink into the couch, heart still thumping a thousand miles a minute. A few seconds later, Mr. Anderson stalks in, clad in a pair of gray sweatpants. Only a pair of gray sweatpants, with his wet hair resting against his forehead. There are beads of water on his bare chest, and for some reason, my mouth goes dry as the Sahara at the sight of this. "Care to tell me why you're in my house, Miss Ally?" "I could ask you the same question, Mr. Anderson," I reply, standing up and putting my hands on my hips. "No, I'm not...." He trails off with a frustrated sigh then looks me up and down. "Are you hooking up with Penn or Fisher or something? Because that would be a weird coincidence, Paige's dance teacher and one of my roommates." "What? No!" I point at the stack of my stuff by the front door. "I'm movi⁠-" Before I can finish my sentence, the door swings open, and Fisher stands there, grinning and holding a huge brown paper takeout bag. The tattooed guy-Penn, I assume-is a step behind him, smirking as he looks at us. "Oh good," Fisher exclaims happily, throwing the bag down on the kitchen island. "Noah, you've already met Allegra." "Who's Allegra?" The shirtless man next to me, Noah, lifts a brow. "Our new roomie," Fisher clarifies, looking a bit bemused as he points at me. "No," Noah corrects blankly. "That's Miss Ally, my niece's dance instructor." Penn snickers. "Maybe she's a dance instructor and our new roomie, Noah." Fisher, meanwhile, stares at him like he's lost his ever-loving mind. "No, dude, that's Allegra Callahan. We went to college together. She's taking over Ivan's room in his absence." "She's what?!" Noah's deep voice goes up by about an octave. "No. No way." He mutters an expletive under his breath, causing Penn and Fisher to gasp in outrage. Penn points to a large sticker chart that I hadn't noticed until now tacked to the wall beside the refrigerator. The chart has all the guys' names listed, and there are several frowny face stickers next to each name. Fisher has the most. "Sticker chart," Penn says. He moves into the kitchen and removes a frowny face sticker from a sticker sheet and adds it next to Noah's name. Noah groans. I'm so confused. What happened to Fisher giving his roommates a heads up about me rooming here? "Hey, Ally, I'm Penn," Penn says as he puts the stickers away, like nothing strange just happened. He has a deep, almost gravelly voice that somehow also manages to sound totally calm. Like he just wants everyone to get along. As if to illustrate my point, he adds, "Oh cool, a cat." "His name is Harry," I tell Penn as he crosses the room to pet him. "Harry Styles. The Third." "I can't live with a cat," Noah sneers. "And why would you name your cat Harry Styles?" "And why aren't you home with your wife and your daughter?" I whirl on him, a little sick of his attitude now. Fisher coughs incredulously. Penn snorts with laughter. Noah scrubs a hand over his face, his brown eyes flaring again. "I've been trying to tell you; Paige isn't my kid. She's my niece. I'm not Mr. Anderson-that title belongs to my sister's husband. I'm Noah Downsby." I suddenly remember my earlier conversation with the kiddo- "my Uncle Noah has roommates." And I am now one of them. The absurdity of the situation fully dawns on me. Because I have been living here all of five minutes, and I've already chewed him out for being late, and I've walked in on him naked in the shower. Great first impression. Not. "Oh. Um, I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot," I start. "I'll say," Noah says, rolling his eyes before he stalks out of the room. I watch him go, trying not to think too much about how tense his shoulder muscles are. "Taco?" Fisher asks me, ripping open the bag and smiling like that whole showdown didn't just take place. "I thought you guys were going to be out late?" I ask, accepting a taco from him because I'm starving and they smell delicious. "We felt bad we weren't here to welcome you and help you move your stuff in, so we wrapped up our night early and came home." His comment catches me by surprise, and I'm a little mortified to feel my eyes burning at the thought of these two big hulking hockey players giving up their potential hookups for the night to be here with me. "Thank you," I say softly. I'm touched. And also grateful, because being here alone all evening with Noah after what just happened-what I just saw-would be...a little weird. "I don't think your friend Noah's very happy I'm here," I add cautiously, but Fisher just shakes his head. "Nah, that's just Downsby. He'll take a minute to process it, then he'll get over it. Right, Matthews?" "Right," Penn, who's now lying on the couch with Harry on his chest as he flips through TV channels, agrees. "He'll be fine, Ally." "Allegra," I correct automatically. My only nickname has ever been "Legs," a stupid moniker my Uncle Liam saddled me with when I was about three that unfortunately stuck. "Nah, I like Ally," Penn says with a devious grin. "Downsby can keep calling you Miss Ally, though." "I agree," Fisher pipes up. "Allegra's so long and fancy, it reminds me of my first name." "What, you don't love the name Archibald?" I tease, because I'm not going to lie, I don't hate Ally at all. Plus, fresh start and all that. Fisher throws a corn chip at me. "Ally it is then," I say with a laugh, suddenly feeling like I've walked right into a real-life episode of New Girl. Complete with a hot, grumpy roommate that I absolutely cannot and will not ever imagine naked again. Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!