Morgan Rielly Imagine

Morgan Rielly - Part Eleven

Shortly after I told Morgan I had my own board to play on, I realized I in fact did not. Now I'm standing in the board game aisle of my local store trying to decide if I like the special edition theme board better than the original.

A small part of me is holding a small thrill at the thought of tomorrow morning. Okay, maybe a big part. The last two days have been like night and day from my first couple weeks working for the most scrutinized hockey team in the NHL. It's like I had been pent up in a boarded house for the last five years and finally was able to pry open a window to breathe unfiltered air. Now my lungs are filled with the smell of spring and the scent of Morgan's scarf which is wrapped securely around my neck currently.

He had been right when he said it was more than just a cloth to keep me warm. Every time I get a little anxious, whether it be about a deadline I have to meet or when I think about Nick and our rough patch the last few days, I rub the worn cloth between my fingers and count in my head. A feat I learned in my anger management classes that seems to work in many other situations as well.

My mind wanders to Morgan as I stroll back towards the grocery side of the store, the special edition theme board game vibrating on the bottom of my cart. I can't seem to get him out of my mind. And ever since my dream last night, other thoughts about him have been creeping up on me no matter how hard I try to keep them at bay.

I'm attracted to him.

There's no going around it. But more than his physical appearance, I'm pulled to his sweet demeanor. Since I got here he's been the only person to go out of his way to talk to me about more than just what their schedule for media looks like. I listen to him talk to the other guys, talk to the reporters and fans, even on the ice. In all of those situations he's kept his head on his shoulders and been smart about what he says and does. He's kind.

And the way I catch him looking at me is defiantly a big factor.

In our shared conversations he watches me, he's engaged in what I have to say and what I think. And when he smiles softly when I fumble over a word or get flustered from another rude reporter, it makes me nearly melt.

Blindly, too distracted by my wayward thoughts, I throw various things that I think I'm running low on into my cart. With all of the emotions and thoughts I have about Morgan, I also have them when I think about Nick. Though those have turned a bit sour.

I had a long talk with Nick right after I left the rink this morning. He had apologized again and I had forgave him, or at least that's what I said. I'm still not sure I have yet though. He listened attentively to my thoughts and issues and when I was done, he told me his and we worked together.

I love Nick, I really do but the distance was beginning to put a strain on me and I think he could feel it. He knows he's walking on thin ice when it comes to issues in our relationship and I know he wonders how long until the ice finally cracks, exposing him to the frigid water below.

I know I should feel bad, guilty even when he already has a busy schedule and his own life in Pittsburgh. The NFL is no easy place to stay. He knows that as well as I do. But it takes two to make a relationship work, one person cannot be unhappy just to make the other's life easier.

"Excuse me?"

I startle and look up from the bunch of bananas I had been examining. A girl with long blonde hair and a stunning face looks up at me, several inches shorter than me.

"Sorry," I quickly apologize, moving my cart of the way.

"Oh no, you aren't in my way," the girl smiles at me, a perfect set of white teeth gleam up at me. "You're Y/N, right?"