Morgan Rielly Imagine

Neighbors

My first week in Toronto goes better than I had expected. Preseason ended and the real fun began. And with all the fun, came the bloodbath that is the Toronto reporters. Morgan hadn't been exaggerating when he said that media scrums are worse back home.

Within the first two games, my voice had nearly disappeared and I had to schedule a meeting with an anger management counselor. Mason had jokingly suggested it after I nearly ripped the throat out of a man who refused to leave the locker room without talking to Auston Matthews, who had already vacated the area. I had taken it literally and called my counselor back home in Montreal for a suggestion on where to go.

Now as I collapse onto the couch in my temporary living room, having friends in all the right places always comes in handy, I have never been so happy to just lay and watch the time pass me by. I spent one night in a hotel once I returned from Detroit and then had spent the next day calling everyone I knew in the Toronto area to find a place that was willing to lease less than a year. I had been ready to give up after looking at one of the trashiest apartment complexes I had ever seen, when one of my old friends from Edmonton called me back.

Her grandparents had a place in Toronto where they lived during the summer months before heading down into the states for the colder months. The place was vacant from October to May. And the place was nicer than I had ever expected. A high rise condo in downtown Toronto with more space than I would imagine an elderly couple needed, but I wasn't complaining. Plus, while the building was very modern and industrial looking, the couple made the space their own and the homesickness I had been stomaching since leaving Montreal had left me during my first night here.

I startle when the buzzer by the door goes off.

"Hello?" I ask, pressing my finger onto the intercom.

"Delivery," comes a female voice and my mouth waters at the thought of the Chinese food I had ordered.

"Be right down," I reply and bound through the door after grabbing my keys off the table.

I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for the elevator to bring me down the nineteen stories where my food awaits. The girl is just barely over sixteen and looks extremely annoyed whilst popping her gum when I meet her in the lobby.

"Thank you," I smile at her while handing her a tip and she just rolls her eyes at me while pocketing the money and exits the building. "You have a nice night as well," I mutter under my breath and retreat back to the elevator.

I huff out an annoyed sigh when the doors don't open right up as I thought they would, as no one had entered the building and it was after ten on a Tuesday night. I watch the floor level flip from the 'garage' to 'lobby' and move in front of the right elevator as the doors open.

I move to take a step forward and stop in my tracks when I see the other body already in the elevator. Dressed in the suit he had left the arena in, Morgan Rielly stares back at me with equal confusion.

"Y/N?" He asks surprised and I just widen my eyes.

I stand there awkwardly as I go through my options, all of which end in me embarrassing myself one way or another.

"So are you going to get in?" He asks after a moment of prolonged silence.

"Oh," I blink and shake my head quickly, "right."

I step into the elevator, my food no longer sounding appetizing. I reach out to press the ninetieth floor but lower my hand when I see the number is already illuminated.