Chapter 9 Light filters through my curtains, telling me it's well past the time I usually wake up. I squeeze my eyes tight, trying to stay asleep longer. This bed feels so warm, so comfortable, I never want to leave. Finally, I give up and stretch, registering something warm and soft against my torso as I do. That's strange. My eyes fly open, and I lift my comforter to find Harry Styles in bed with me, fast asleep. I groan and allow the covers to flop back down. The cat doesn't even stir. So much for Ally promising to keep him out of my room. I should kick the smelly cat out of my bed; he's probably shedding all over my sheets. The only reason I don't is because I'm still waking up. Not because it's surprisingly nice having him there. I sit up in bed and grab my phone off the nightstand, my jaw dropping when I see it's already noon. I jump out of bed and walk to my spacious closet, pulling out some sweatpants and a white tee. Harry finally stirs, crawling out from under the covers with a stretch and a wide yawn. He plops off the bed and trots over to rub himself against my legs. He's purring loudly, and I stare at him, unsure what to do. What do cats like? I lean down and give him one pat on the head. His ears flatten, and he seems to glare at me with his cat eyes. "Sheesh, sorry." The gray and black furball quickly darts out of my room through the crack in the door. Definitely closing my door tonight. I pad to the bathroom, closing the door and making sure to lock it. I don't need Ally seeing my bare ass again. After doing my business, I freshen my deodorant and glance at myself in the mirror. My hair is trimmed short, so it looks fine, but I have some serious dark circles under my eyes. Pretty sure the party went well past three in the morning, and it shows. With the thumping of music and echoes of drunk laughter, it was difficult to fall asleep. Never mind that Ally was on my mind for hours, the events of the night playing in a loop on repeat at the forefront of my brain. First, it was strange that Fisher-designated house party animal and wild child-was prepared to call off the entire party the second he looked at Ally after the game. What was that about? And then, when I saw Sandine closing in on her, it looked like she was shaking. And while she stood her ground, chin tilted defiantly as she stared up at my drunken teammate, her body language was tense. Rigid. Afraid. I know fight or flight mode when I see it. And she flinched when I touched her arm. Flinched. Like she thought I might hurt her...but then, when she saw it was my hand on her arm, sheer relief washed over her features. What the hell had that asshole said to her? I have no idea what caused her panic, but I do know I never want to see that look on her face ever again-because seeing her like that made me want to punch Sandine square in the face. Which would hardly help our already fraught teammate dynamic. I can't stand the guy, but we still have to play on the same line together, no matter my personal feelings towards him. While I'm washing my hands, I spot a bottle of what looks like perfume on the counter top. The bottle is shaped like some kind of flower, and the glass is purple. I pick it up, removing the lid and taking a whiff. It smells like Ally-er, vanilla and jasmine-according to the bottle. Opening the lower cabinet, I find all of her products are now neatly organized in small, clear containers. One is filled with makeup products, and another is full of pads and tampons. Puck me. I find a container with one empty spot and slide the perfume inside. I close the cabinet door before I stumble upon any more female products that will make me uncomfortable. I stand, glancing back at the door like someone might burst through, then for some reason, I open the cabinet again and remove the perfume. I spray the sweet fragrance once into the air and inhale, closing my eyes and enjoying the scent. It smells even better on Ally, the scent mixing with her skin perfectly. There's a knock on the bathroom door and I startle, nearly dropping the glass bottle. "What the hell is wrong with me?" I whisper to myself, shoving the perfume back into place and closing the cabinet door as quietly as possible. I've clearly lost my mind. "Just a second," I call to whoever knocked. I turn on the sink like I've been washing my hands this whole time, then open the door and find a rumpled Ally standing before me, all messy blonde waves and sleepy doe eyes. She's really pretty. She's wearing silky pink pajama shorts that show her long, toned legs...and a matching top that has tiny bows at the shoulders. Harry is sitting by her feet, and the tired expression on her face tells me she didn't get much sleep, either. "It's all yours," I say as I slip past, careful not to touch her-or look at her legs again. She gives me a sleepy smile and steps inside. Then she stops, her brow wrinkling. "Were you...using my perfume?" Harry follows her inside the bathroom, rubbing against her legs like he did mine earlier. I tut. "No, of course not." She smirks and closes the door. Breathing out a deep breath, I stride to the kitchen in search of breakfast but stop in my tracks when I see Fisher and Penn haphazardly sprawled across the expensive, leather sectional. Red solo cups and paper plates are scattered all over the kitchen counter, the floors, and spilling out of an overflowing trash can. So much for breakfast. I clap my hands loudly, earning a groan from Penn. Fisher remains lifeless. "Come on! Up! Let's clean this place and make some breakfast." Penn is shirtless, his shirt strewn over the lamp on the side table next to the sectional. Fisher is wearing a shirt, but his pants have been discarded onto the floor. For shit's sake. I stride over to Fisher and nudge him with the back of my hand, grabbing his jeans and throwing them on top of his head with the other. "Get dressed, Archibald. We have a woman living here, remember?" He whimpers but grabs his jeans and sits up. Penn looks around, and I snap my fingers. He looks at me, and I point to the lamp. His eyes widen when he spots his shirt and tugs it off the lamp and over his head. "I feel like I've been run over by a herd of elephants," he mutters, his voice raspy. Fisher is standing now, and he jumps into his jeans, somehow without ripping them. "You're Canadian; don't you mean herd of moose?" "We see more bears than moose where I'm from, honestly," Penn says conversationally. "What, so y'all don't ride your moose to Tim Horton's every day?" "Only on Sundays. Not as many Mounties out that day to ticket us." I roll my eyes and rest my hands on my hips. "Would you two puckwads shut up and help me clean this place?" With groaning and pouting that rivals my nieces being asked to pick up their playroom, the boys finally get to work. A few minutes into the process, Ally makes an appearance. She grimaces when she sees the disaster. Her hair is pulled up in a bun, and she's traded her silky pajamas for black leggings and an oversized T-shirt, thank goodness. Right away, without fuss, she jumps in and helps. She grabs a trash bag from under the sink and starts picking up red cups and random trash. I put away the alcohol that was used for cocktails last night and wipe off the countertops. In under an hour, the loft is spick and span again, mostly thanks to me and Ally. As if to illustrate what hungover wastes of spaces they're both currently being, Penn and Fisher plop down into two of the four barstools pushed up to the large island separating the kitchen from the living room. Penn lays his face on the cool cement countertop with a sigh. Fisher pats his back. "It'll be okay, buddy. We just need some food. And a gallon of Gatorade." Ally sighs and shakes her head. "You two are such babies. I'll make some coffee." While she gets the coffee started, working Fisher's fancy espresso machine like a pro, I pull the refrigerator open and find it stocked with fresh bell peppers, cheese, and eggs. I grab them all and get to work making omelets. "You're the bessht, Noah," Penn mutters with his face still smushed on the counter. "You owe me," I reply with a wry smile, not needing to remind him of the many, many times in college I dragged his hungover ass out of bed and made him an omelet so he'd make it to practice on time and escape Coach's wrath. As we make breakfast, I can't help but notice that Ally and I work around each other in the kitchen like we've lived together for years. She scoots out of the way when needed, and I do the same. When she wrinkles her nose at the peppers I'm chopping, I stop. "You don't want peppers in your omelet?" She feigns gagging. "No, thank you." "How about spinach instead?" "Hard pass." Penn finally lifts his head off the counter and looks at us. "Ally, you have to eat your veggies." "I've lived twenty years eating as few green things as possible, and I'm as healthy as an ox." Fisher smirks. "Ally, please remember that Penn's Canadian and he prefers if you use moose in all animal-related analogies." Penn shrugs, clearly not caring either way. "Fine. I'm as healthy as a moose," she says with a laugh. I barely hear the conversation, realizing Ally is younger than I thought. I assumed she was in the same class as Fisher, therefore the same age as us. But she's two years younger. So, how did she and Fisher even become friends? Fisher stands and walks through the kitchen, opening a cabinet full of protein powder and supplements. He pulls out my green drink mix that's full of vitamins and antioxidants. "I'll give you two options, Ally. Green juice, or veggies." "Hey, that's mine." I reach for my greens, but he spins out of my reach so I can't take it. Fisher hands the container to Ally, and she studies the label for a moment before unscrewing the lid and taking a sniff. "Blech! I am not drinking that." "Good, because it belongs to me," I grump, adding the peppers to the skillet. Penn suddenly chooses this moment to resurrect himself from the hungover dead and also comes into the kitchen, making it even more crowded. "It tastes better than it smells, trust me. Noah is ridiculously picky, and he's been drinking that stuff for years." Penn steps toward me and pinches my bicep. "And look how strong and pretty it made him." Ally's eyes linger on my bicep, and I feel my face growing hot under her perusal. I shrug my arm out of Penn's grasp and turn so no one can see my face. I need to get out of here soon...first I'm smelling her perfume, then I'm blushing like a thirteen-year-old when she looks at my arm. "Hey, I'm not the one who had five beers last night," I hear Ally say in her defense, and I smile to myself as I sauté the peppers. "I don't need a lecture about my health." The words, "she has a point," fly out of my mouth before I can stop them. The kitchen grows quiet, and I glance over to see the three of them staring at me. "What? She does. Leave her alone." I shrug, pretending I'm not also concerned about her health. I mean, seriously, how does she get any fiber into her diet? "See, Noah's on my side!" Ally crows, turning a big, triumphant smile my way that makes me feel even more ruffled. I turn back to my work and jump when I see Harry on the counter staring at me. "Ally, if you don't care about your health, that's fine, but get your damn cat off the counter." The words come out more harshly than I want them to, and when I see Ally's expression falter, I open my mouth to smooth things over but decide against it. It's nothing personal, Ally. But if I'm going to live with her, she needs to stay away from me. And more than that, I need to stay away from her. Focus on what's important here, which is having the best hockey season of my life. If I have to act like an asshole occasionally to make that happen, then so be it. No distractions. Not even my beautiful roommate, who smells too damn good and really needs to start eating some vegetables. Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!