Chapter 7 "You're where?!" My mom cries through the phone as I make my way out of the packed arena, carried along in a sea of turquoise and purple jerseys. "At a Lions game." I raise my voice so she can hear me better. "Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?" Mom's playful tone makes me simultaneously laugh and ache with missing her. "I have no idea," I reply with a smile. Because she's right. I've never liked hockey. There, I said it. My dad's charity organization frequently partners with the local NHL team in Atlanta, the Cyclones, to give underprivileged youth opportunities to play. Because of that connection, I've been to a lot of NHL games with my family over the years. My thoughts on hockey were always that I'd take a theater with dim lights and beautiful music and a dance performance that moves me to tears any day. But that all changed tonight when I saw Noah Downsby take to the ice. Because ho-ly, that hot, broody, hulking man moves with more poise and more grace than half of the dancers I've worked with over the years. I was in awe, my eyes automatically tracking his every movement, following the number thirteen jersey on the ice without even meaning to. And that goal? Even I couldn't help but leap up and cheer my lungs out when the puck sank into the back corner of the net. "I mostly just came to support Fisher and his friends," I tell my mom. I was tired after a day of unpacking, organizing, and hitting up Target for everything I needed, but I wanted to show myself to be a supportive roommate to the guys, especially Noah, who is so put out by my mere existence that he appears to be avoiding me at all costs. Which is super mature of him-not-but Fisher is being nice enough to let me stay at the loft, so I want to make an effort with them. All of them. "You settling in okay there?" Though her tone is bright, I know her well enough to pick out the carefully concealed note of worry in her voice. "I'm doing great." I step out onto the concourse and begin making my way to the players' area to meet the guys. "Really great. But hey, I gotta go here... I Ubered to the arena earlier, and I'm going to catch up with Fisher for a ride home." "Okay," my mom says, unable to keep the hint of sadness out of her tone this time. Which makes me feel terrible; I hate upsetting her. "Be safe, honey. And you know..." She hesitates. "You know I'm always here if you need to talk, right?" "I know." I close my eyes for a moment. "I love you, Mom. Dad and Jamie, too." My dad-who's actually my stepdad, but officially adopted me after he married my mom-is amazing. So's my half-brother. And how amazing they are is part of the reason I had to get away. "And we love you, Legs." "I'll call you again soon," I promise and hang up the phone, feeling like an awful weasel of a person for making my mom worry about me. My mom is my best friend in the world. She had just turned eighteen when she had me, and until I was eleven years old, it was just the two of us. I can't stand lying to her, or even lying by omission. I'm used to telling her everything, and keeping secrets from her feels weird and wrong. Because she had me, my mom didn't even get the opportunity to graduate high school, and I know she was excited for me to be a college graduate, cheering me on every step of the way. And while she's been more concerned than anything else since I announced my abrupt departure from USG, I can't help but feel that I've let her down. Let everyone down. It's why I got a job so quickly when I got out here, so that I could pay my own way and not have to ask my parents for money to support me in what I'm sure they think is either an act of rebellion or a bizarre quarter-life crisis. But better they think that than know what really happened. I pocket my phone and smooth my hair behind my ears, pasting on a big, happy smile as I see the boys approaching. They all look freshly showered and just this side of exhausted, but two of them are smiling broadly. The third wears a look of sulky indifference as his dark gaze registers my presence. "You guys were amazing tonight!" I say, trying my best to appear unruffled by Noah and his unnerving glare. "Thanks, Ally," Fisher says with a beaming smile, puffing his chest out with mock bravado. Or possibly real bravado; it's hard to know with this guy. "Glad you were here to witness our greatness." "Was just the first win of many for us this season." Penn nudges me, his blue eyes sparkling. "You ready to party it up in 3B to celebrate?" "Hmm?" I ask. "Party at our place," Noah cuts in, his voice sarcastic. "Gonna be a real blast." Oh. As much as I try to still my mind, it immediately starts spinning. The anxiety starts in a breathless rush in my chest, then moves in a wave through my body. Memories I want to forget attempt to make their way to the forefront of my brain... Penn snorts and gestures at Noah. "Dude, you scored your first NHL goal tonight, and you're acting like someone taped your hockey stick the wrong way. Parties are meant to be fun, you know. They're not a punishment." "We haven't even broken the new place in yet," Fisher adds in a whine. "It's like a housewarming party mixed with a celebration party mixed with a welcome to our new roomie party." "Exactly," says Penn happily. "So, you're in, Ally?" My head continues pounding, and I can physically feel the color drain out of my face. "Oh, no, I'm...uh-" I stutter out. Understanding suddenly dawns in Fisher's eyes. "Shit, Ally. I for-" He glances at his friends, then coughs. "I mean, uh, I forgot to check if you were okay with us having a party." His concern is clearly meant kindly, but it just serves to make me feel even more pathetic. Weak. "Didn't seem to mind not checking with me," Noah grouches. "We can call it off," Fisher decides. "What? Why?" Penn cries indignantly. We're out in the players' parking lot by now, standing by Fisher's vehicle-a souped-up G-wagon that I imagine draws a lot of attention, but then again, Fisher seems like the type of guy who loves being in the spotlight. As he unlocks it, I take a deep breath. I'm not going to let my issues get in the way of my roommates living their lives. "No need to call it off," I say, my voice firm as I level my eyes on Fisher across the hood of the vehicle, hoping he will take my words at face value. "I'm totally cool with you guys having a party. Seriously. I was going to hit up the building's gym tonight, anyway." Thankfully, Fisher studies me for a moment, then nods. Smiles. "Okay, if you're sure." "I'm sure." I smile back, glad to have smoothed the moment over, but as Penn babbles obliviously about how I should definitely come, and a girl named Lauren whom he hopes will come, I can't help but notice the curious look Noah shoots Fisher as he slides into the back seat next to me. He doesn't look at me at all. Meanwhile, I look down at my hands, steeling my spine against the shiver currently creeping down it. My roommates are good guys. It's just a party. A party I won't even be at. Everything's fine. Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!