Morgan Rielly Imagine

Morgan Rielly - Part Fourteen

Morgan let me listen to his headset one day when they were in a tournament that lasted long into the night and I had had to remove them after just a few moments. I can take vulgar language, but some of the things they were saying had me fifty shades of red and I felt the need to cleanse my soul afterwards.

Since then, I just sit back and listen to what Morgan says in response to unheard jabs. I think he tones down his own language when I'm with him, he shoots me nervous looks when he says something particularly vulgar.

But right now, it looks like I finally broke him.

"So," I start, examining my nails, "does this mean I don't have to play anymore?"

Morgan rolls his head to the side at me again, that same skeptical look in his eyes that he gave me the first week I was here.

"Absolutely not! Just right now I think I need a little break," he grabs the remote from the coffee table and switches the input of the television to regular programming and we are met with a steamy make out session between two characters of Morgan's favorite show.

I look away suddenly embarrassed and Morgan clears his throat, another tick when he's nervous.

"So, ready for Pittsburgh next week?" He asks me loudly, probably trying to drown out the wet sounds of the two actors on the screen.

"Yeah," I say just as loudly, "it will be fun."

I still hate when Morgan mentions Nick. I still get that uncomfortable feeling in my stomach at the mention of his name. Because even if my friendship with Morgan has taken a bigger hold on me, I still have to make myself stop staring at him at times. And it makes me feel incredibly guilty.

Morgan nods and finally has the realization that he can change the channel and suddenly we are watching some paranormal show.

"Change it! Change it!" I squeal, covering my eyes and leaning back in my seat.

"What? Why?" Morgan startles, nearly dropping the remote at my outburst.

"I can't watch these!"

"Why?" He laughs at me.

"I scare too easily and I live alone! Those two things don't mix!" I exclaim, pulling my legs up onto the plush couch as if putting more of my body between the screen and me would protect me.

"It's just a show, Y/N," Morgan says between laughs and I scowl behind my hands.

"You don't know that!" I snap.

"We live in a secure apartment complex, what do you think is going to happen to you?"

"Ghosts don't care about security guards!"

"You think there are ghosts here?"

"Shh, don't talk too loud. They might hear you," I whisper at him, sliding down in my seat so my back is nearly on the cushion beneath me.

At this Morgan laughs even harder and grabs my wrists to try and bring my hands away from my face. I squeal and pull my hands back.

"Y/N!" Morgan says once again pulling my wrists and in the moment I'm annoyed that he's so much stronger than I am. "You're being ridiculous."

"I am not! I'm being respectful to the dead!"

He finally manages to claw one of my hands away from my face and his eyes dance with humor as he stares down at me, much closer that I would have expected.