Morgan Rielly Imagine

Just My Job

I step onto the bus first. Tardiness is my biggest pet peeve and if I had one goal in life, it would be to never arrive late to anything. The bus driver gives me a kind smile in the mirror, and I nod with a smile of my own. Most of the younger players, the ones that are more likely to be assigned to the Marlies at the end of preseason, arrive soon after me. Unlike the older players, all of these ones smile and greet me and I successfully remember all of their names.

               Much to my dismay, Mason arrives right behind them and when his dark curly hair bobs up the stairs, my smile fades into a scowl as he pushes past me into the window seat.

"Do you always have to sit by me?" I complain as he spreads his legs much wider than necessary and knocks one of mine into the isle.

               "No, but I can't pass up and opportunity to annoy you," he says, pulling his dark sunglasses over his eyes and sticking his headphones in.

               I sigh and force my legs back from the isle, kicking him until he gives in and gives me my space back.

               "You are a child," I hiss though he doesn't hear me and I hear a chuckle beside me.

               When I glance over I immediately regret it. Morgan is laughing silently to himself, his head back down looking at his phone laying in his lap. When did he get on? I wonder and then I wonder if he was actually laughing at me or something on his phone. And then I wonder why I care.

               You don't need friends here, Y/N. I say in my head again and face back towards the front and fiddle with the hem of my dress. With only a few more warm weeks left before fall comes, I'm taking every chance at wearing my light clothes as I can.

               After the rest of the team piles onto the bus, we are off. And I'm hyperaware of the boy sitting across the aisle from me. I don't know why. I've said maybe five words to him, he probably doesn't even remember my name. Working in media, most players just do as I say and then walk the other direction and that's the way I like it.

               But still, there's something that keeps bugging me about Mo and I can't lay a finger on it. Maybe it's the way he smells, like soap and some sort of cologne that's not too strong. Or maybe his blue eyes that seem to always be smiling. Or maybe... wait what?

               I physically shake my head, trying to remove all of those thoughts out of my mind. I have a boyfriend. Under no circumstance should I think about another boy's well... everything.  Instead, I try to focus on what Nick might be doing right now. Probably getting his dinner, then he will go back to his apartment and play Xbox until one in the morning and fall asleep on the couch.

               I flip my phone to face up and find a message waiting for me from him.

               Good luck your first night with the Leafs. Don't let the reporters beat you down

               And following the words is a winky face and heart emoji. I smile at the screen and lay my phone back down, leaning my head back against the seat and looking out the front window of the bus. Though from the corner of my eye I see Morgan glance at my phone, at me and then back out the window.

               Six hours later, I'm standing outside the Leaf's locker room eyeing the waiting reporters warily. It's like Black Friday and I'm blocking the doors to Target. I swear they can smell my fear. I hadn't realized that working for the Leafs organization meant being a part time body guard.

               "Alright," I say after Mason motions that it's time for the doors to open and they press forward. Dear lord. Good luck boys.