Puck No

The night had been far busier than she had hoped her very last shift at Kenny’s would be, but the owner, Kenny, had insisted on staying open to accommodate the hockey fans that had filled the small sports bar beyond capacity. Morgan knew the importance of the game and the superstitious fans would not appreciate being moved, what with the fan favourite having come back from a three-goal deficit to force not one but two full periods of overtime. By the time Morgan thumbed the button on her key fob, it was almost 2 AM; Kenny hadn’t wanted to shut down the party when the fan favourite wound up winning, especially because the group ordered numerous pitchers in celebration. Thankfully, the exuberant fans, and surplus of alcohol, became increasingly generous with their tips, making the unplanned overtime well worth it.

Morgan dumped her small bag onto the passenger seat as she started the ignition, wincing as the volume of the radio shattered the silence she had otherwise become accustomed to since the sports bar cleared out. She had been listening to something - though, she couldn’t remember the song for the life of her - she hadn’t heard in a while on her drive in, and knowing that it was her last shift before starting her well-awaited dream job had been enough to warrant an impromptu karaoke session on her way to work. Turning down the bass-strong pop song, Morgan flipped down the visor and glanced at her tired expression in the mirror. Her eyes burned and she knew she wouldn’t be able to wait until she got home to get rid of her contacts.

A tear streaked down her cheek as she removed the first clear half circle, dropping it into the small container filled with solution she kept tucked away in her bag, and she did her best to blink back any more that sought to follow. The second contact was much more difficult to remove and she couldn’t blink away the tears that it brought. If anything, her eyes burned worse having removed the contacts than they had with them in, and she found herself irritated that she couldn’t have waited to do it at home with better lighting.

With her black-framed glasses finally resting on her nose, and most of the tears having been swept off her cheeks, Morgan shifted the vehicle into gear and slowly pulled away from the curb. Many fans, though she couldn’t be sure that they had all been in her sports bar earlier in the night, still littered the streets to celebrate the come from behind win that put the home team back as a contender to win the series in the Stanley Cup finals. She nodded at a cop directing the alcohol-saturated fans away from the middle of the street as he got a particularly ecstatic fan from her path, and smiled to herself when the fan hardly seemed bothered by his brief detour, his chants loud enough to be heard through her closed windows.

Working at Kenny’s hadn’t been terrible; Kenny was a reasonable man, and understood that life happened. He was considerate with the schedule and wasn’t so stingy as to pay a shit wage and rely on tips to supplement his employees’ pockets. Instead, he treated his employees as if they were his children, and didn’t put up with any bullshit behavior by any patron who decided to become handsy. But, having graduated law school only a few months prior, she was eager to get back into the law firm she had been able to article at before being called to the bar.

Happy to be home, and even happier that the prospect of relaxing in a warm bubble bath was closer than ever, she all but rushed towards the bathroom after engaging the lock to her apartment. They had stocked the bathroom with bath bombs, bubble bath, Epsom salts, and candles for long days like this, where they needed some well deserved me-time, and Morgan eagerly upended nearly an entire bottle of lavender scented bubble bath into the warm, running water. She revelled in the way the scent quickly spread throughout the small room and made quick work of shedding her uniform before settling into the blissful purple water that awaited her.

She rolled up a small hand towel and wedged it behind her head, far too comfortable to leave the muscle-relaxing warmth to fetch the water-proof travel pillow that they had stowed away under the sink. As the water level continued to rise steadily, Morgan toed at the faucet knob, debating whether or not to let it fill to the overfill plate. Exhaustion loomed over her like the hangman’s noose and she knew that she could quickly lose herself if she stayed in the warm cocoon she had crafted around her longer than necessary.

A few seconds passed in silence, save for the static-like sound of the bubbles slowly beginning to dissipate, before she heard the telltale sign of her roommate’s, Christine, door pulling open and the handle to the bathroom jiggle. Morgan nearly cursed in time with her roommate and forced her tired body to move; she hooked a finger through the loop in the drain plug and pushed herself to stand, trying to wipe off whatever bubbles still clung to her like a second skin with her hands.

“One second,” she called to Christine when the door handle moved again, stepping onto the plush rug next to the tub as she plucked the plush pink bath towel from where it hung against the back of the door. Morgan swiftly kicked her soiled work uniform towards the laundry basket, knowing full well it would remain there until the morning when she had the energy to actually pick it up.

Her fingers found the small lock on the handle as she secured the towel around herself. “Sorry, I forgot you usually have to get up in the middle of the night --” Morgan fumbled as she glanced up, expecting to see her blonde-haired, blue-eyed roommate and instead was met with a bare, albeit broad, chest. “-- to pee. Who the hell are you?”

The mass in front of her cocked an eyebrow in her direction before gesturing to the washroom behind her. “Happy to make your acquaintance, but I need to take a leak,” he said gruffly as he took a step back to allow her to pass. When she didn’t move right away, he added, “Look, I’ve got no problem if you want to stand there and watch, but, fair warning, I’m not --”

It was as if her brain had skipped – like a scratched CD – and it took a little too long for it to catch back up. She held up a hand to stop his next words and stepped forward, urging him to step back again to allow her to pass. The unknown mass of a male just smirked down at her as she stepped around him.

Morgan poked her head into Christine’s open bedroom door on the way to her room and she couldn’t fight her own smirk as she locked eyes with her roommate. “He’s cute,” she breathed, gesturing with a small move of her head towards the closed bathroom door at her back. “Where’d you find this one?”

Christine had flicked on her bedside light and Morgan couldn’t help but laugh when the no-so-coy smile flickered for a moment when she ran a hand through her sweaty hair and her fingers snared on a knot. Her roommate huffed, annoyed when her hair refused to relinquish its hold on her fingers, before just yanking them free with a heaping clump of knotted strands. “He asked for my number at work the other day, and made it really difficult to say no,” she chuckled in a breathless and overly suggestive tone that had Morgan rolling her eyes skyward. “What? He did!”

The toilet flushed and Morgan tapped the side of her nose with her pointer finger as she fixed her roommate with a devious smirk, stepping into her own room just moments before she heard the bathroom door open. Despite her best friend’s assertions, Christine was not the type to turn down a tall, dark mass of muscle, regardless of how ‘difficult’ she may have been when approached. The only mode of persuasion that she would have needed was a small wink, a dangerous smirk, and a quick ruffle of his hair and she would have been absolute putty in his large hands.

Morgan waited until she heard the front door shut the next morning before emerging from her bedroom with the full intention of grilling her roommate on Mr. Mass-of-muscle. She piled her hair in a haphazardous excuse for a bun on the top of her head and stumbled upon Christine staring blanking at the front door, a steaming cup of coffee clutched in her hands. She felt her lips curl upwards like a cartoon character as she approached.

“Morning,” she breathed, purposefully bumping her hip against her best friend’s as she plucked a coffee mug from the cupboard and quickly went to work making her own cup of joe. “Mind telling me where you really found that specimen that kept you company last night?”

If she didn’t know any better, she could have sworn her best friend blushed into her steaming mug. “How’d you know?”

Fighting back a snort, Morgan made herself comfortable atop the kitchen island across from her roommate and best friend and took a long sip from her cup. “Chris, you work at a fucking tech company. There’s no way that waltzed into your work, ever. Now, come on, spill. I want all the juicy details,” she chuckled.

Christine worked her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment or so before the smile she had been trying to hide finally broke free and stretched the length of her face. “Alright. He didn’t walk into my work,” she admitted after a few seconds. “But I did get the idea from work. One of the girls at reception had received a dick pic from an unknown number a few weeks ago. So, she writes him back and says that he must have the wrong number, right. Well, doesn’t he text her back that he, for one, hoped that she was a woman, and, two, had texted her number at random in hopes of meeting someone new!

“Anyways, he starts asking her questions about herself – her age, her name, to send a picture, like normal things you would want to know from someone you just ’met’. And doesn’t she go along with it! She eventually sent him a selfie – fully clothed, obviously – and they actually hit it off.” She paused to take a sip of her coffee. “Now they’re going out on date number three, I believe, tomorrow night.”

“...Right. So, are you trying to tell me that you sent an unsolicited dick pic or that you received an unsolicited dick pick from the hulking mass of muscle that just walked out of here?”

Morgan tossed back the rest of her cup of coffee despite its piping hot temperature and fixed her best friend with a cheeky look, ignoring the way she rolled her eyes skywards at the statement. She had debated defending her previous question by stating that it was something in her friend’s wheelhouse, but decided better of it and slipped off the counter to rinse her empty mug in the sink. It was probably best not to poke the well-satisfied bear.

“I’ll have you know that I sent a tasteful selfie to an unknown number, not a nude, thank you very much. And, besides, the person on the other end was a woman,” Christine recounted in a tone that suggested her behaviour was normal. “Thankfully, she has a brother who was more than willing to text a stranger.”

“And jump in bed with her at the first opportunity!”

Despite the glare that was directed her way, Morgan knew that Christine wasn’t as angry as she made herself appear to be; Christine was a self-appointed bachelorette who had no intentions on settling down until her late thirties, or if she suddenly met a “sugar daddy willing to take care of her for the rest of her life”. Christine dropped her coffee mug into the sink alongside Morgan’s discarded one and bumped her hip with a chuckle. “At least I’m getting some action,” she said before running a hand through her still-messy hair. “When was the last time you got laid, Mo?”

Waving the question off with a flick of her wrist, Morgan lifted herself atop the counter next to the sink and crossed her dangling legs at her ankles before levelling her friend with an ‘it doesn’t matter’ stare. “Nice deflection, Cassanova,” she snickered, smirking when Christine stepped way from the counter and halfway across the kitchen to their dwindling fruit bowl. “And, for the record, I was not poking fun at you getting any action - I was, however, poking at how you went about it. Maybe next time you could send me a text message, warning me that you’ve got company like that coming over.”

“He’s coming back tonight, though I don’t think we’ve secured a time.”

With her feet back on the floor and a look of mock-entitlement etched across her face, Morgan started back towards her room, throwing her last words over her shoulder. “Thank you for remembering that you live with someone before scheduling your next dick appointment, jerk!”

A clementine walloped against the back of her thigh and she couldn’t help but release a witch-like cackle as she skidded into the bathroom to properly start her morning routine. She was mid-way through brushing her teeth when she heard her roommate’s sing-song voice through the door calling her a prude and needing to live a little. Morgan only shook her head and grinned at her reflection in the mirror around a mouthful of toothpaste.

Sunday mornings had historically always been her day to raid the grocery store for the upcoming week, and this particular morning wasn’t any different. As per their roommate agreement, Morgan was responsible for the weekly shopping and, while she didn’t usually mind going out on her own, she did like the company Christine offered when she tagged along from time to time – and the help that would come as a result of it.

Morgan internally cursed herself for deciding to go to Costco for some of the essentials on their list and not bothering to bring the utility wagon they kept stowed away in a closet for this specific purpose. She blew out a breath as she hoisted the bags out of the trunk of her SUV and huffed, noticing the significant weight on both arms. Two trips are for the weak, she tried to remind herself as she attempted to rearrange the reusable bags so that the heavier ones were thrown over her shoulders, there were some nestled in the crook of her elbows, the few light ones dangled by her wrists, leaving her hands free to pile the cumbersome Costco-sized merchandise on top of each other. A curse fell from her lips, first in exuberance then in utter annoyance, when she managed to lift it all from the trunk only to have it dawn on her that she would have no way to close the trunk nor would she be able to open the door to the building.

Bags tumbled from her shoulders and elbows to crash against the much softer ones at her wrists as she all but slammed the Costco haul back into the trunk in frustration, and she could only picture the squished bread and cracked eggs held within. With all the weight suddenly in one spot, Morgan did her best to wiggle free from the strangled grip of the handles to fish her phone from her purse and call in the reinforcements. She groaned when gravity eventually won out and she wound up dropping the bags with much more force than was necessary to the asphalt behind her vehicle.

“For the love of God, pick up,” she muttered under her breath as she thumbed through her recent calls and pressed on Christine’s name, angrily glaring at the heap of reusable bags at her feet. Thoughts of squished bread and cracked eggs were the least of her worries when it dawned on her that she had bought a jar of pickles, among a few other jarred goods, and another curse fell from her lips as the lined continued to ring.

Stashing the phone between her shoulder and ear, Morgan sucked in a breath and decided it would be best to assess the damage before she lugged any of it up the stairs and created a further mess. She riled through the first bag, huffing in annoyance when only continued to ring, and was onto the second when Christine’s machine picked up, eliciting a further expletive up and out of her throat. Morgan was in the process of dropping the phone back into her hand to redial the number – cursing her roommate’s ability to completely disregard and otherwise lose her phone entirely in moments where she otherwise was needed – when she located her first casualty in the third bag: a bag of oranges that cushioned the fall of the pickle jar.

She straightened up, ran a hand through her hair, and dejectedly dropped her phone back into the depths of her purse when it, again, rang through to Christine’s voicemail. A sigh tore from her lips as she looked skywards, her frustration level at having not bothered to bring the wagon with her reaching an all-time high.

“Can you use a hand?”

Morgan all but jumped out of her skin and clutched at her chest to keep her erratically beating heart from escaping from the confides of her chest before whirling in the direction of the owner of the voice, frustrated to find that he had managed to invade her personal bubble undetected. The hulking mass of muscle that had offered to allow her to watch him use the washroom just the night before stood in front of the mid-morning sun with a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and his hands casually stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. She watched as his eyes roamed over her for a fleeting second before dropping to the cargo that had been dumped onto the asphalt and in the trunk of her SUV.

The unnamed Adonis lifted a single, solitary eyebrow towards his hairline and Morgan internally cursed herself for getting so caught up in the groceries that she had misplaced her surroundings. Raising a hand to run through her hair, Morgan finally let go of her chest to cross her arms in front of her. “Did Chris send you?” she said briskly, annoyance at her best friend ignoring her calls washing away all of the other emotions that had suddenly flourished over the last several seconds. “The bitch could have at least answered my calls to tell me she was sending reinforcements.”

He chuckled briefly at her words before soundlessly stooping to collect the discarded bags littering the asphalt behind her SUV. She watched as he moved a few of them around, no doubt trying to balance out the weight in a similar manner that she had only a few moments prior, before he extended two of them towards her. When she didn’t immediately grab for them, the mystery man gestured to the heaping pile of Costo-sized items that were still in her trunk. “It would make it a lot easier, and much more attainable in one trip, if you just take what I hand out and stow the attitude,” he drawled out. “At least, for the time being. Feel free to call me a chauvinistic asshole, or whatever your heart desires, once we’re no longer standing around your car like idiots.”

“I’m not sure who you’re used to hanging around – and I certainly don’t want to know,” she quipped back with a smirk, taking the bags from his outstretched arms before moving to the side to allow him access to the trunk and the treasures it held within. “But I can multitask quite effectively, thank you.”

Morgan could see him smirk out of the corner of her eye as she set about arranging the cumbersome boxes into two manageable piles, albeit the one she erected for the mystery man beside her was far more than her own. She watched as he picked it up without a moment’s hesitation before stopping down to gather her own and adjusting it on her hip so she could pull the trunk closed and engage the locks. By the time she turned, the Adonis had already started towards the building, carrying everything with the efficiency, and silence, of a pack mule.

Chris can keep him around, she thought with a chuckle as she jammed her key into the lock and heaved, thoroughly surprised when he wedged the door behind himself and gestured for her to go through first. He certainly squeals less when weighted down than the wagon does!

She hauled her foot back and let it fly towards her apartment door when she finally came upon it, her arms beginning to tire from being stuck beneath the weight of the Costco boxes for so long; the one elevator in the building was apparently being used by a series of individuals whose legs couldn’t bend enough to take the stairs, it seemed. On more than one occasion, Morgan had to physically bite her tongue to keep from snarling at the people that got off the elevator – without a single thing in their hands, mind you – or the inconsiderate assholes that had been waiting for it before she had shown up. She’d expected at least one of the individual riders to invite her and the Adonis on her heels into the metal box, but, instead, they all jammed their fingers into the button to close the door and rode solo.

On her third swing the door opened and she narrowly missed socking her roommate in the shin. “Jesus, Mo, you don’t have to be so – oh! Will, I didn’t know you were stopping by today.”

“Now is not the time, Chris. Here, take this.” Without warning, Morgan stepped forward to dump a good portion of the Costco boxes onto her unsuspecting roommate and she internally thanked Mr. Hoff – Christine’s father – for ensuring that the girl had good reflexes; the last thing she wanted was a pile that large tumbling down on her. “You would have known just how large this haul was if you bothered to pick up your phone.”

Despite not being able to see her blonde best friend’s face, she could practically hear her rolling her eyes in between her scoffing and groaning and Morgan did little to bite back her own grin as she toed off her shoes and padded through the kitchen towards the much-too-large dining room table. She heaved her bags up before turning towards Chris and with a wicked smirk said, “You and the pack mule can put the stuff here on the dining room table, and I’ll deal with it all. Thank you.”